Page 25 of Broken Love (Love 2)
The surfer approach: Dude, your life is about to get totally gnarly.
The casual approach: Hey, do you know if they make integrated car seats for your Bentley?
The scarf approach: Chow down on dinner and when he notices the massive intake casually mention that I'm eating for two.
The barf approach: Wait until I have morning sickness, barf all over him, then scream, It's all your fault!
The textual approach: Send him a text, telling him I can't come over tonight because I'm sick. When he asks with what, I reply, Pregnancy.
The violent approach: Punch him in the face while yelling, You bastard, you knocked me up!
The pathetic approach: Burst into tears and sob, hoping he will ask what's wrong.
The indirect approach: Hide a baby rattle in his bathroom and let him find it on his own. Preferably when I'm not there.
The Chinese takeout approach: Stuff a fortune cookie with this message: Oh, boy, dude, is your life about to change. Like if you want it to. Like if you want to be part of the baby's life. Like we know it was from a crazy, wine-driven screw, but, whatever. Confucius say, It is what it is.
I shake my head to get all the stupid ideas out. It's not a big deal. You are an adult. It doesn't matter if he wants to play daddy. You will raise the baby yourself if you have to, and you will be an incredible mother.
Possibly.
Shit.
Stop freaking out. Don't even tell him tonight. Give yourself a day or two for this to all soak in, then you will be more level-headed when you break the news.
That's it. That's the plan.
I'll wait.
When I step off the elevator, the first thing I notice is the wonderful aroma of tomato sauce mingling with Italian herbs. Cade steps into the entry wearing a pair of jeans, a white dress shirt only half buttoned, and a blue suit jacket, the lapel half flipped up. He looks undone, sexy, and devastatingly handsome. His facial hair is at a three-day scruff. His dark blond hair is pushed back off his face, and all I can think about is running my fingers through it.
With his eyes locked on mine, he takes a step closer, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me tightly against him.
"I've missed you," he says, lowering his lips to mine, causing the air to pulse with anticipation. It's only been a couple days since we last kissed, but the simple brush of his lips across mine leaves me aching for him.
I push my fingers through his thick hair. The tantalizingly musky scent of his cologne draws me to his neck. I nuzzle my nose into it then rapidly suck-kiss my way back to his waiting lips and give him a soul-searing kiss.
Our tongues are tangled. Our limbs entwined in a tight embrace. The fire inside me burning out of control.
I feel his arousal pressing against my core as he takes my face in his hands and deepens our kiss. The sound of him kicking the door shut heightens my desire, and I sigh into his mouth when without breaking our kiss, he lifts me up and carries me to his bedroom.
We land roughly on his bed, his tongue deep in my mouth. My fingers slip inside his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his muscled chest.
He abruptly stops kissing me. Stands up. Tosses his jacket to the floor. Undoes his pants, sliding them down just far enough.
"I fucking need you, Palmer," he says, pushing my skirt up and pulling my panties down with a feral force then flipping me over and pulling me to my knees on the edge of the bed.
He leans forward, his chest pressing against my back, gripping my hips and moving himself into position. I can feel his erection pressing against me and am so turned on I can barely function.
He pushes himself into me in one swift motion, filling me and holding it in place, grinding it inside of me.
"Holy fuck," I mutter out.
"You like that?" he says into my ear. "Tell me you like it if you want me to keep doing it."
"I like it, Cade. Love it," I groan, waves of pleasure pulsing and causing me to tighten around him.
He lets out a devious chuckle and leans back, almost completely pulling out then slapping my ass.
"Do you want me to do that again?" he asks, his voice rough and sexy.
I can't say anything, just mutter a pathetic, "Please."
He responds in the way I want, pushing deep inside me, and making the grinding motion that takes me over the edge. My breathing speeds up, and even though I've orgasmed, I'm aching for more.
"Harder," I manage to whimper, moving my hips back and forth in an attempt to get what I desire.
He curses, adjusts his grip on my hips, and pounds me roughly with a frenzied abandon. I scream his name, pleasure coursing through me as he's climaxing.
He holds me tightly in place for a few moments, our still bodies a contrast to their motion a moment ago. He leans down and kisses the back of my neck. "I guess I really missed you," he teases as we collapse onto the bed. "These got completely ignored." He moves his hand up to fondle my breasts.
"What's that smell?" I ask, suddenly realizing something is burning.
"Shit!" he yells, leaping off the bed and running to the kitchen. I jump up and follow him.
When I get to the kitchen, he's pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven, the crust black and smoking. He drops the pan in the sink and runs water over it, but the smoke alarm starts beeping anyway.
He shuts the oven door then waves a dishcloth in front of it, causing the beeping to stop.
"Did I make you forget about food, Cade?" I tease.
He pulls me into his arms. "You make me forget about everything."
We get dressed, then he seats me at a table on his balcony, which I notice he's preset with placemats, china, and even a small bouquet of roses.
"Those are for you," he says, pointing to the flowers. I was supposed to give them to you when you got here."
"They're beautiful," I reply, leaning in to take a whiff. "And they smell wonderful." I watch as he bangs pots around in the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Nope, you just sit there and look gorgeous," he says, handing me a glass of wine. I start to take a sip then remember that I'm pregnant.
After a few minutes, he places a big bowl of pasta covered with red sauce in front of us along with a plate of meatballs.
"This is what I've been doing all afternoon."
"You cooked all this?"
"Yep. Mom's recipe."
I look across the table at him and smile, my heart melting into a puddle. "That's really sweet."
"My plan was to feed you before I attacked you," he admits. "But then you had to go and kiss me."
"Oh, so it's my fault?"
His hair is mussed, his eyes bright, his smirk flirtatious. He's downright adorable. "Absolutely."
Pike
I'm enjoying a cold beer and watching the latest on demand big-budget action flick. Although I'm grateful that my sister allowed me to move in with her while I recover, I will admit that it's cramping my style.
I haven't gotten laid in weeks.
I toss back the rest of the beer, pause the movie, and scroll through my phone. Just because the cast is awkward and clunky, doesn't mean my dick doesn't work. And Palmer will be out late.
> Hmm.
I decide to text Cameron.
Me: Are you back in town yet? I'm dying to see you.
I want to say my dick is dying to see her, but I'll throw that into the conversation later.
I take another sip of beer and stare at my phone.
Cameron: Remind me again why we broke up?
Me: Because you were off doing movies and only flew to my games when you wanted the kind of hot sex your male costars couldn't give you. And we stopped seeing each other because you didn't want a commitment.
Cameron: We were so young. The first time.
Me: We weren't so young the second and third times we dated.
Cameron: We're getting older, Pike.
Me: I love when you call me that.
Cameron: Everyone calls you that.
Me: It always sounds the best coming from you. If I were a girl, I'd say I was swooning.
Cameron: Bullshit. I literally just landed. I was going to call you tomorrow.
Me: Come see me.
Cameron: I'm jetlagged.
Me: I have a cure for that.
Cameron: You still rehabbing at Palmer's house?
Me: I am. But she's out for the night.
Cameron: I knew I should have shaved my legs this morning.
Me: I love stubble.
Cameron: You're just horny.
I don't reply. She's right. I am. And she knows it. But she also knows that I was in love with her. The first time we dated. The second time we dated. And the third. And pretty much the whole time in between. Cameron has always been the girl who got away. Again and again and again. I rub my palm down my face, not even believing she's coming over.
If there was one girl in my life who made me consider the whole marriage, white picket fence, and having babies thing, it was her. She's fun, sexy, sweet. But god damn is she elusive.
She recently was engaged to a rocker. Everyone thought she was finally ready to settle down. I may have done a little internal cheer when I saw in a tabloid that she broke it off. I tuck my nose under my armpit and take a whiff, making sure that I don't stink. I grab my crutches, hoist myself up off the couch, and go brush my teeth.
