Sweet Possession

CHAPTER 7

Male voices drifted through the screen as Angelina approached the door leading into the backyard. She paused for a moment to rub at her aching back. Micah was so sweet and attentive. If he knew her back was giving her problems, he’d be rubbing it. She was tempted to drop a hint because right now she’d give anything to have his hands soothing away the discomfort.

She was just about to go out when she heard her name. Then she smiled when she heard the guys give Micah a hard time about impending fatherhood. No matter what she may have thought in the beginning, Micah had embraced the idea of being a father with both hands.

He fussed endlessly over her. He went to every doctor’s appointment and drove her crazy with innocuous pregnancy trivia, some of which she was convinced he made up.

She went still when she heard Micah’s determined voice rise above the sounds of the neighborhood and distant lawn mowers.

“I want her to marry me, but I’m at a loss as to how to convince her that I’m not doing it out of obligation. I know she worries that she’s somehow trapping me into a relationship I don’t want, and it’s making me crazy.”

“Maybe you’re putting too much stock into marriage,” Connor said. “Angelina’s a great girl. If she loves you and stays with you, does it really matter if it’s official or not?”

Angelina could visualize Micah’s scowl perfectly.

“It’s not the marriage thing. It’s that she still has doubt. Not that I blame her, but I don’t like to think of her worrying that I’m not dedicated to her and Nia. They’re my life.”

“Maybe you should back off for a while,” Nathan said carefully. “She’s pregnant and vulnerable. From what I hear, their emotions are a mess when they’re pregnant. Maybe she feels pressured.”

Micah sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I’m pissed at myself for not seeing it sooner. I don’t deserve her after the way I acted. I love her, and more than that I don’t want her to ever think I don’t, that she’s not the most important thing in my life.”

“You can’t force trust,” Gray said. “It’ll come. The more she sees that you’re in it for the long haul, the more she’ll trust in the truth of your relationship.”

Angelina lifted trembling fingers to her mouth. Trust? Trust had never been an issue for her with Micah. She trusted him implicitly. There was no way she could cede absolute and total control in their relationship to him if she didn’t trust him.

The idea that she’d hurt him by making him think she didn’t trust him was painful. She loved Micah and it was for him that she’d hesitated in accepting his marriage proposal.

Now she wondered if she wasn’t doing more damage to the future of their relationship by holding back. If he ever doubted her love, it would kill her. It was the one thing she’d always given him unreservedly.

Micah was her future. She knew it without a doubt. She rubbed her hand over her protruding belly. Micah loved her. He loved their daughter. He wanted them to be a family. Micah had always wanted a family. Right now she was the one standing in the way of his happiness.

How stupid and shortsighted she’d been. She didn’t regret not relenting right away. She and Micah had desperately needed time to work out their issues and to find their way amid the tumultuous beginning to their relationship.

But for the last few months, Micah had done and said all the right things. He’d once told her that when she knew without a doubt that he loved her more than life and when she trusted him fully to cherish her gift of love, that was when he wanted her to marry him.

“Oh God,” she whispered. How must her continued resistance look to him? Like she didn’t trust him. That she didn’t believe he loved her.

None of that was true.

Suddenly she wanted to nothing more than to go home and spend the evening in Micah’s arms. His hand on her belly and them talking about Nia and their future. Tears stung her eyes. Micah had said when that day came. It was here and she didn’t want to wait any longer.

“I think Angelina must have gotten lost,” Faith said with a sigh.

“Either that or she made another trip to the bathroom,” Julie said. “Another reason I have no desire to get knocked up in this millennium. I can’t imagine spending that much time in the bathroom.”

Lyric raised her brow. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one with no desire to pop out a kid anytime soon. Or ever.

“I’ll go see what’s keeping her,” Lyric said.

Faith nodded. “Thanks, Lyric. I’m going to start on the salad and pop the bread into the oven.”

Lyric was relieved to escape the kitchen. It wasn’t that she found the other women annoying, but she was ill at ease around the warm friendship between them. Lyric had no experience with closeness. She’d never allowed herself to have that sort of relationship with anyone. Physical, yes. Emotional, no. And she had plenty of business relationships. Nothing that qualified as an actual friendship.

When she entered the living room, she saw Angelina standing near the door to the backyard, a peculiar expression on her face. Both hands were palmed over her belly and she looked like . . . She looked like she was upset over something.

It was tempting to turn back and pretend she hadn’t seen the other woman. Lyric had zero experience with emotional, pregnant women. What did you say to one?

It wouldn’t kill her to be sympathetic. Everyone had been nice to her. Other than Julie’s snottiness—which, she was realizing, was part of the woman’s natural charm—they’d all treated her like she was normal. To her surprise, she liked it. She liked it a lot. Not that she wanted to start leading a normal life, but it was a nice change.

She took a few steps forward and delicately cleared her throat. Angelina’s head whipped up and she didn’t look thrilled that Lyric had found her. That made two of them.

“Are you okay?” Lyric asked gently. “Do you want me to get Micah?”

Angelina’s lips quivered and she inhaled sharply, like she was tightly controlling her emotions. Then she let out a soft laugh, and her lips turned up into a rueful smile.

“Have you ever come to the realization that you’re an idiot and that what you thought was the right thing was completely wrong?”

Lyric snorted. She couldn’t help it. “Honey, you’re talking to the queen of fuckups. If there’s a way to screw something up, I’ve mastered it.”

Angelina cocked her head. “You seem so well put together. I’ve watched you, you know. The few TV specials you’ve had and I saw a recording of one of your concerts. You seem so confident and sexy and smart.”

Lyric blinked. “Wow. Thanks, I think. But wow. You couldn’t be more wrong. Not that I want to go into all the ways you’re wrong, but I’m glad it at least looks like I have my shit together.”

“I’m an idiot,” Angelina said again. “A pregnant, hormonal moron. I’ve spent so much time worrying that Micah would want to walk that it’s a wonder I haven’t made him do just that.”

“Nothing wrong with being sure,” Lyric said with a shrug. “I admire you for that. A lot of women don’t look before they leap.”

The door opened and Angelina whirled around, a guilty look on her face. Relief lightened her eyes when Connor walked in.

“Hey, sweetie,” Connor said as he pulled Angelina into a hug.

Sweetie? Lyric cocked her eyebrow at the endearment and the obvious affection in Connor’s voice. He was such a grumpy hard-ass, it was difficult to imagine him being so cutesy with another woman. Her eyes narrowed. A pregnant woman who was involved with another man.

When Angelina pulled away, Connor frowned as he stared down at her. “You okay? You look upset.” He glanced over at Lyric and her eyes widened at the accusation in his. Did he honestly think she was responsible for Angelina’s crying jag?

Angelina smiled. “I’m fine. You can stop fussing over me. Lyric made me feel much better. I think I’m going to go out and let Micah take over.”

Connor glanced up, fleeting apology in his gaze, but Lyric shot daggers back at him with hers. As Angelina walked out the door, Lyric shook her head and turned on her heel to stalk back to the kitchen.

Connor caught her wrist before she took two steps and pulled her back around to face him.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a sincere apology, but hurt still crowded her chest. “I don’t even know why you brought me, Connor. It’s obvious you think I’ll be an asshole to your precious friends. They seem to like me, which is more than I can say for you. They’ve also been nice to me, which again—”

He pulled her against his chest and sealed his lips over hers, effectively halting her angry tirade. “Shut up. Just shut up,” he growled.

She went stock-still against him as he plundered her mouth. There was nothing gentle or tentative about his kiss. His lips scorched over hers, stealing her breath and returning it as his tongue probed and explored the inside of her mouth.

It should piss her off. She should be shoving him on his ass. She should be doing a lot of things, but what she did was kiss him back. She was tentative, and the truth was she wasn’t entirely sure what to do, but his taste intoxicated her and made her dizzy.

A whisper of charcoal danced through her nostrils and it blended with his natural masculine scent until she wanted to lick him to see if his skin tasted as good as he smelled.

She’d been kissed before many times but never like this. Most men were intimidated by her and it showed in how they touched her. Connor took charge and it was clear he had plenty of self-confidence.

He cupped her face, his fingers splaying over the sides of her neck. They pressed possessively into her flesh, branding her.

Shivers danced along her spine as his tongue rubbed sensuously over hers, stroking and coaxing until she responded in kind. Her response was automatic. She didn’t have to think about whether she wanted to kiss him or whether she wanted him to continue kissing her. It wasn’t like she had a choice. She was a helpless prisoner to his overwhelming power.

When he finally let her go, she staggered back, her lips swollen. She raised a shaky hand to her tingling mouth and stared wordlessly at him, unable to comprehend that he’d just kissed the daylights out of her. He hated her!

He closed the distance again, regret in his eyes. He touched her shoulder, a light gesture meant to reassure her.

“I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

She shook her head to rid herself of the lingering effects of his wicked mouth.

“Not for kissing you,” he amended. “I’m sorry for being an asshole, but not for kissing you.”

“Why did you?” she asked faintly. “You don’t even like me.”

“You drive me insane. I look at you and you make me instantly crazy.”

Her eyes narrowed and some of the euphoria evaporated. “The feeling is quite mutual.”

His grin was cocky and arrogant and it was so damn sexy she wanted to march back over there and finish what they’d started.

“Every time you get all pissy and mean, I get a hard-on from hell. I wonder if you have any idea how sexy you are when you turn that nose up and start throwing attitude.”

Her mouth fell open. It closed and then opened again like a fish out of water. Then she glared. “You’re full of shit. You’re just saying that so I’ll be nice to you from now on.”

His laughter rang out. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to get you to stop being a bitch.”

She crossed her arms, prepared to give him the look of death when she realized what the result would be. Instead she threw up her hands and stomped back toward the kitchen.

“That goes double for tantrums,” he called after her.