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Plus, whenever Mark was around, Dr. Lughan made a point to have Mark look at the things he was doing and tell him all about how fertile and built for breeding my body is. Considering I never invited Mark into the room with me, and was obviously already pregnant, it never made much sense. Now that Arlo and his MC brothers have hinted at some of the things they suspect Mark’s up to, I wonder if Dr. Lughan is involved.
I need to tell Arlo about my suspicions, but the stress of the past few days, coupled with that anxiety-spiking appointment, has me exhausted. A bath sounds great, and I tell Arlo that when he comes back into the bedroom we’ve been sharing. It’s strange to lie so close to him at night, especially since he’s made listening to me masturbate every morning a mandatory routine. But he keeps to his side of the bed no matter how close I scoot to him. I’m unsure why he likes hearing me touch myself but refuses to touch me. I’m even less sure why it makes me so hot, but I’ve never come so quickly or so bone-meltingly.
“You’re still dressed,” he says when he returns from fussing over the bath setup to find me standing in the middle of the room. I’ve been lost in thought, my head spinning and trying to make sense of this thing between us. Arlo promised my brother to keep me safe, but he’s also taken every opportunity to claim me as his. Claim the baby as his. The chemistry between us is so powerful it feels like a living entity.
“Sorry?” I don’t mean to ask.
“S’alright.” Arlo sweeps me up and carries me bridal style into the warm bathroom with its lavender-scented bath oil aroma.
“I can walk.” My offer is met with a raised eyebrow.
“I can carry. The sooner we get the smell of that doctor office off you, the better for my sanity. And you’re moving too slow on your own, Cuteness.” When he calls me that silly pet name, I melt.
He’s a big, rough-looking biker, an outlaw in so many ways, but he’s so sweet and soft for me. It’s a dichotomy I can’t wrap my brain around. He sits me gently on the counter next to the sink and tugs my shirt over my head without any further discussion. He unsnaps my bra and pulls the straps down my arms without any fanfare. My nipples tighten into hard knots, pregnancy giving them even more sensitivity than ever, but Arlo seems to pay them no attention.
Naked from the waist up, I sit still as stone while he drops to his knees and pulls off my shoes and socks. His hands go to the stretchy panel of my maternity pants, and embarrassment hits me. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life, and here I am, wearing the least sexy clothes possible. He doesn’t want you like that, he’s just doing Hy a favor, I remind myself. I need to stuff this hormone-fueled lustiness in a box and stuff it down deep.
Arlo’s been obsessed with caretaking me since before I knew he was even around. If he realizes my out-of-control horndog feelings are more about him and less about the pregnancy sex drive? Ugh. Knowing how thorough the guy is in taking care of me, I’m sure he’d suck it up and sex me into a coma out of the duty of it all. Arlo doesn’t want me. He’s just got a super high sense of obligation.
Arlo doesn’t allow me to hide my embarrassment behind shaky fingers. He captures both of my wrists in his left hand and tugs them down. His eyes meet mine briefly before dropping to the hand currently tugging the stretchy panel below my baby bump.
“It’s a wonderous thing, Francesca, to grow a human life within your body. Humbling. Nothing I ever do will be so remarkable as what your body does so naturally. Protecting you and this little one will be the closest I ever get to being an honorable man.” Arlo isn’t a man of many words, so this feels like a speech he’s been building up for days.
His hand releases my wrists and joins the other on my belly, stroking and pressing the firm mound that swells bigger every day. I can tell when he notices the tacky dried lubricant they use at the doctor’s office to run the fetal doppler over my stomach. His eyebrows knit together, and the muscle in his jaw that flexes when he’s irritated starts to jump.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Nothing weird happened. You were there with me the whole time.”
“Gonna ask Doc Charm for a referral. Someone we can trust. There’s something off about that asshole Lughan. Now, into the water.” He lifts me to my feet and strips away my pants and horribly boring maternity panties before handing me into the tub.
It’s only as his firm hands lower me into the water that I look over and see my face is level with his waist. There’s no mistaking the massive bulge pushing out the placket of his jeans obscenely.
Arlo’s hard. For me. And that? That changes everything.
Chapter
Twelve
DIGG
I softly pull the door shut behind me, not wanting to disturb Frankie just after she’s fallen asleep. I’m a bit worried how much of an ordeal a simple doctor appointment seems to have been for her. Now that I’ve been present for one and seen Lughan’s odd behavior, I get it. I’m definitely unhappy about it, but I get it.
“Need the number to that doctor you brought around for Blu and Gray,” I tell Konrad when he meets me at the top of the stairs. Together, we head toward the locked conference room we call the chapel. The rest of the guy might already be there, although it’s a tossup whether Jax will tear himself away from Blakely to be on time.
“Charm? Why? What’s the problem?” Konrad asks, even as he pulls out his phone and messages me Dr. Vincent Charmden’s contact information.
“Something’s weird about that baby doctor Francesca’s been seeing. Need to run things by Charm to see if I’m being paranoid,” I grunt. I hate having to explain myself, but considering my brothers are still plenty pissed off at me for going rogue and getting locked up, I know it’s necessary.
Shaw’s organized ass already has a white board on wheels at one end of the room and looks like a tatted-up high school teacher. Under other circumstances, the irony would be amusing, considering none of us save for Cameron were worth a shit in school.
“This list of names you brought back. It’s more than just guards. There are inmates on it, too?” Shaw asks.
“Yeah. I listened. Heard shit.”
“Shocker. That’s all you do. Listen to everyone else like a creep,” Ace sneers at me. His cold fury sours my stomach even as heat rises over my cheeks at being called out for my auditory voyeurism.
“Can it, Ace.” Jax glares at me, despite his defense.
“COs talk. Brag. You know.” I nod to Jax, and he nods back. He knows I’m right. Correction officers gossip and titter like middle schoolers. Bully like that way, too, but that’s neither here nor there.
