He didn’t answer. No surprise there. I closed the freezer door and started rummaging through the cabinets instead. When I suddenly felt his presence close behind me. The smell of alcohol muffled by the stench of a woman’s cheap perfume assaulted my senses. My breathing hitched when the warmth of his chest pressed against my bare back, my eyes falling to his hands resting against the counter at my sides.
“You wear that little get up for me, pretty girl?” Rebel reached up, skimming my shoulder to grab the box of Cheerios. Setting it on the granite surface in front of me, he leaned in close to my ear. His breath hit the side of my neck, causing shivers to course through my entire body. “I’m hungry, Mia. You gonna feed me?” he rasped, softly caressing along my arm, leaving goose bumps in his wake. A groan escaped his lips, igniting a tingling feeling deep within my belly.
Where did that come from?
I abruptly turned around, causing him to move away from me rather quickly. Taking the box of cereal with him. Our eyes connected. He sucked in his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth, looking me up and down with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Grinning as he popped pieces of Cheerios in his mouth, slowly chewing in a way only Noah could make look sensual. He’d never been this forward with me before, but I knew it was the alcohol talking.
“You look good, Mia.”
I nodded, smiling. “I feel good.”
“I know.” He winked. “I remember.”
“When did you get back?” I asked, ignoring his last remark.
“About an hour ago. Thought you were sleepin’, didn’t want to wake you.”
“Were you with a girl?” I blurted, mentally kicking myself for it.
He arrogantly smiled. “What if I was? It bother you?”
“No.”
“No, huh?”
“What you do with your personal life, Rebel, is none of my business.”
His glossy eyes zoned in on me, trying to see if I was lying. “You're awful cute when you’re jealous. Even if I was, it don’t matter. She ain't the one I want.”
I didn’t have to ask whom he wanted. I knew he was referring to me. “Rebel, you can’t—”
He was in my face, pushing me further into the counter. Caging me in with his arms, a little too close for comfort. “What, Mia? What can’t I fuckin’ do?”
“You’re drunk. Go to bed and sleep it off.”
“Only if you tuck me in.”
“Reb—”
“You ever think about that night? The night I made you mine. I was the first man to ever make you come... wanna know how I could tell? Cuz of the way your tight pussy squeezed the fuck out of my fingers. You’d been waitin’ for it. Fuckin’ cravin’ it. You always remember your first, Mia,” he stated in a low, raspy tone. Brushing his fingers along my belly. “I’m already inside of you, sweetheart.”
The same unfamiliar feeling resurfaced again, deep within my core. I should have moved or pushed him away, but I couldn’t get my arms or feet to move. It was as if I was watching a train wreck right in front of me, unable to look away. His touch seemed so familiar, and that confused me more than anything. There was something about him in that moment that captivated me, drawing me into his hypnotic pull.
His lips pursed together like he knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling. An internal struggle he was causing.
“I’m Creed’s,” I simply stated, for I don’t know who in particular.
“We’ll see.” With that, he pushed away from the counter, backing up. Never taking his eyes off me until he had to, leaving me with nothing but unease.
I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. Thinking about what the meaning of his last words could have meant. They lingered all night, along with the feeling he stirred inside of me. I guess it would be normal to have some feelings for the father of my child, but it wasn’t only that.
I admired Noah.
I liked having him around. I enjoyed talking to him, even though it was always a one-sided conversation. He never answered any of my questions about his life, only wanting to know about mine. He listened when I spoke, and not in that I have to be polite kind of way. He really wanted to know as much as he could about me.
At first, I thought he felt obligated since I was the mother of his baby, but tonight proved to be something else entirely. I mean, I allowed him to touch my belly all the time. It wasn’t anything new. He would do it every chance he got, saying he was talking to his baby girl. Forming a bond before she came into the world. She even started responding to the sound of his voice by kicking or moving around when he spoke. I didn’t think anything of it at first. He was the father. Her father. Touching her, not me. At least that was the way I saw it, though now I wasn’t so sure.
Whatever it was, I needed to put a stop to it. At the end of the day, I loved Creed. I’d always loved Creed.
He had my heart.
I woke up the next morning by myself in a haze from the lack of sleep. Reaching over, feeling the cold sheets beside me. Wanting nothing more than Creed’s arms holding me close. The warmth he radiated, to cover me like a blanket, barricading me with his love. I laid there staring at the speckled ceiling, coming to the decision to not tell him about what happened between Noah and me, the night before. It was pointless. It wouldn’t do any good, and the last thing I wanted was to come between two brothers.
I needed to clear the air with Noah. Make it known that we were just friends. Close friends. And that we had a baby girl to raise together, that was it. Last night couldn’t happen again. I thought about it all morning, going about my normal rituals—eating breakfast, lounging on the couch, reading a book, getting lost in a captivating story, while I waited for Noah to wake up. It was well into the afternoon by the time he finally came out of his room. Part of me thought he might have been avoiding me. Although, I hoped it was just from him being too hungover and needing to sleep a good part of the day away.
He froze in the doorway when he saw me sprawled out on the couch, glancing up from my book. Trying to keep his emotions in check as he stood there in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, hanging low on his hips. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, his body already covered in tattoos, much like his brother’s. He started rubbing the back of his head like he was lost in thought, peering all over the room looking for answers. A few awkward seconds passed by before he finally made his way over to me, still not uttering a word.
I threw my book on the coffee table, turning to sit sideways to look at him, tucking my legs underneath me as he took a seat beside me.
“Mia, I-I-I...” he stammered, figuring out what to say first. Struggling to gather his thoughts. He shook his head, locking eyes with me, sighing, “I was drunk. I know that’s no fuckin’ excuse, but it’s all I got.”
“I know.”
“No you don’t. Not even fuckin’ close.”