Say You Want Me(11)


by Corinne Michaels

It’s official . . . I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

~ Three Weeks Later ~

“I MADE SPACE FOR YOUR stuff in the closet,” Wyatt says as he unloads my car.

I’m living here.

In his house.

While I carry his baby.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to get my head on straight. I agreed to this, but I can’t stop myself from feeling as if I had been forced. But it’s me who is forcing this to happen.

After I left Bell Buckle with a plan, I became focused. I knew that the goal was to pack a few months’ worth of things, get Erin all set up, and find someone to watch my apartment. Presley, who was over the moon about my extended stay in Bell Buckle, recommended letting one of our bakers house-sit since she still lived at home with her parents. She was more than excited, and then I was moving—well visiting for a long period of time—to freaking Tennessee.

Wyatt called me at least once a week, probably to make sure I wasn’t backing out, and I did my best to sound hopeful. He told me he’d done some work in the house, and was looking forward to me coming. We spent no more than fifteen minutes on each call, but it felt like we said so much in those short periods. It seemed like he was truly excited, and he kept reiterating how much he wanted to spend this time together, which confused the shit out of me.

“I think that’s everything.” He puts the suitcase on the bed.

I nod, unable to find my voice. My hormones are a mess, and I can’t seem to stop myself from spontaneously bursting into tears. I had to pull over on the drive down because it became too much. I’m not necessarily sad. I’m overwhelmed. I’m living with my baby daddy, and I don’t have a job. I’m a walking disaster.

My eyes roam the small but cozy bedroom. Everything in Wyatt’s house is simple and has purpose. There are no decorations on the walls and there doesn’t seem to be anything here that doesn’t have a purpose. It’s clean but comfortable. The walls in his bedroom are painted a neutral cream color, the bedding is a blue down comforter with a ton of pillows. Seriously, the bed is pretty much completely covered with them. The only thing that stands out is the very large television mounted to the wall.

The rest of his house is the same. He clearly lives as a bachelor. The furniture looks as if it’s been around a while, maybe hand-me-downs from family or friends who were getting rid of stuff, yet each piece is cared for. He showed me around when I arrived, and while his house seems small, there’s a lot of space.

The room I’m most excited to use is the bathroom. Complete with the most amazing claw foot tub I’ve ever seen and a shower that could easily fit four people. The shower heads line the walls and there are two huge rainfall spouts up top. It looks heavenly.

I put away the rest of my stuff and turn to see Wyatt leaning against the door. “So,” my voice cracks a little, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, the plan is to get to know each other.” He moves toward me and sits on the bed with a grin.

I laugh. “While living together.”

“It’s like speed dating,” Wyatt muses. “We’ll use the time we have and see where it goes.”

“Well, we can at least skip the awkward after part. We’ve already tackled that. Oh, and the whole, ‘What happens if we get pregnant?’ talk.”

Wyatt and I both laugh. He takes my hand and pulls me on the bed next to him. “I’m not sure what exactly we should be doing, but we’ll figure it out. We take it one day at a time.”

At least he’s as lost as I am.

“I think we need rules.”

His brow rises. “Rules?”

“Yes. Rules,” I say sternly. “I have rules.”

“By all means.” He swipes his hand out in front of him.

Here we go. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to like this, but too freaking bad. “Absolutely no sex with each other or other people. No dating other people, either. No going to sleep angry. No using the baby as a way to get what we want. No snoring. No eating off my plate. Do not ever touch my coffee if you want to keep the use of your hands . . . those are my rules.”

The last one is really the most vital. But the rest are important as well.

Wyatt stares at me with a funny look on his face. “No sex? Don’t you think that ship has sailed?”

“Well, that ship sank, but it’ll be good for us to spend the next few months without complicating things more. So yeah, no sex.”

His grin grows wider. “What if you can’t handle being around me and jump my bones?”

“Not happening,” I retort.

If we’re going to try this, we’re going to do it right. Sex is what got us in this predicament to begin with, and I’ll be damned if we make things worse. I already know that the sexual chemistry between us is off the charts. Now, we need to see if the rest of what we’re going for has a chance or if it’s just the situation making us question it.

He stands, stretching his arms in the air while rotating back and forth. His shirt lifts, revealing his tanned skin and washboard abs. I gulp, unable to tear my eyes away from him. “I think the next few months are going to be interesting,” he muses. Wyatt crosses his arms, lifts his shirt off, and tosses it in the corner. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

My mouth waters at the sight of his chest. Each part of his body is solid, and there’s not an ounce of fat on him. He’s ridiculous. Who the hell actually looks like this? It’s not normal.

I make a fist and glance away. If I stare, I’ll want to touch. If I touch, I’ll end up naked. That would be bad.

“Have fun.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Angie?”

“Huh?” I keep my eyes down, pretending there’s something incredibly interesting on the ground in front of me.

“You okay?” His voice is smug, which breaks my staring contest with the floor.

“I’m perfect.” My eyes meet his, and I pull all my sass to the forefront. If I can stay angry or determined, I might be okay. “Pregnant, but perfect.”

He smirks. “Perfect.” He continues to look at me as he unbuttons his jeans. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Jackass.

“Nope.”

My stomach drops as his pants fall to the floor.

“Good.” Wyatt knows damn well what he’s doing.