Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(66)

“This can’t be right. You took a test?” My guts churned. The room spun.

“I took two. And I saw the doctor.” She licked the spoon clean. “It’s right.”

“You saw the doctor already? How long have you known?”

“About ten days.”

“You’ve known for ten days and you’re just telling me now?” I had to grab on to the back of the stool with both hands.

“I needed some time to process it. Decide what I was going to do. And I wanted to see the doctor to be certain—which I did, last Thursday.”

I shook my head. “This can’t be right.”

“Stop saying that!” Her eyes glared brightly. “I am pregnant, Gianni. And you know what? It doesn’t matter if it’s right or not, it’s real. And it’s all your fault.”

“My fault!” I gaped at her. “If I recall correctly, that time on the wall was your idea. You were the one who seduced me in the kitchenette!”

She sucked in her breath. “Seduced you!”

“Yes!”

She flung the spoon at my head, and I ducked. “All I did was come up behind you and give you a hug! An innocent little hug to thank you for making dinner!”

“You said you wanted to rip my clothes off!”

She reached into the bag of M&M’s and hurled a handful of them at me. “Did not!”

“Did so!” I yelled back as the little multi-colored chocolates bounced off me and clattered to the floor.

“Well, you were the one who got so carried away you shoved your junk in me without wrapping it up first!”

I went around the island and got in her face. “And you were the one who kept telling me not to stop! I was going to!”

“Bullshit!” More M&M’s pelted me—at close range this time.

“It’s true!” I shouted, although she was right, that was total bullshit.

“Nothing you say is true! You’re a liar.” Her eyes were on fire, and she was breathing hard. She swayed closer to me, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re a fucking liar. And I despise you.”

I inhaled, and her scent filled my head. I’d never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her right then.

We went at each other like wolves.

Our mouths crashed together, tongues slashing, hands groping.

I hiked up her skirt. She yanked off my belt. I tore off her underwear. She shoved down my pants.

Fuck me like you hate me.

Inside a minute, I had her up on the island, driving my cock into her again and again, savagely, furiously, like I wanted to punish her for the way she consumed my every waking moment. For the way she’d pushed me away. For making me doubt everything I knew to be true about myself. And she seemed just as eager to take her rage out on me. She turned her face away when I tried to kiss her, she hissed in my ear, she pulled my hair, she slid her hands beneath my shirt and clawed my back, she sank her teeth into my shoulder as her body tightened and convulsed.

But Jesus Christ, I’d never come so hard in my life—my knees buckled as my body spasmed, and I had to let go of her and brace myself on the marble.

When it was over, she shoved me back and slid off the counter. I backed into the sink and dropped my head into my hands. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Facing away from me, she picked her underwear up off the floor and pulled it on, tugging her skirt down. Then she was still.

A few seconds passed. My heart began to slow. I put myself back together and fought the urge to wrap my arms around her from behind—she clearly didn’t want that.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry. I lost control.”

“I’m not blaming you, Gianni. I lost control too. But we can’t do that. We can’t . . . use each other like that. As punching bags.”

I wasn’t entirely sure that’s what we’d done, but her assessment seemed safer than admitting it could be anything else.

“Ellie. Look at me.”

It took her a couple breaths, but then she turned around and faced me, shoulders back. Chin up. Lower lip trembling.

My chest was caving in. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“And the . . .” I swallowed with difficulty, glancing at her stomach. “Baby?”

“The baby is fine too. It’s barely the size of a kidney bean.”

For some odd reason, learning its size made me want to fucking cry. I felt suddenly and stupidly protective of that little kidney bean. My knees felt weak, so I went around the island and sat down, on the stool again, burying my head in my arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. And no.”

“I’m going to have it.” Her tone was slightly defiant, as if she expected me to argue.

But I nodded slowly, realizing I was glad she’d made that decision, even if it meant my life had just drastically veered off course.

“I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week. You can come if you want.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a scan that shows you live images of the baby.”

I picked up my head. “Seriously? Like a livestream from inside your stomach?”

She almost smiled. “Kind of. Yes.”