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In moments, I feel cool fingers creeping up my back and my shoulder and gathering my hair up while I continue to empty my stomach contents onto the floor.
When I’m done, Kira pulls me into a hug.
“Kira . . . I’m sorry about the mess.”
“Shh. Addy. It’s okay.” Her palm rubs soothing circles over my back.
“No, it’s not okay.” I pull out of her arms. “We have guests, and I need to clean up this crap before someone sees it or, God forbid, slips in it, tumbles over, and smashes their skull like an egg all over the concrete sidewalk two hundred feet below.”
“Sheesh, you’re so morbid,” Kira grins but grabs my forearm as I start to leave to get a mop.
“Addy. Are you ill?” She puts the back of her hand on my forehead and then my neck.
“No, I’m just . . . exhausted, I guess.”
“Exhausted and therefore puking like a dog? You threw up on your boss’s shoes for chrissake.”
“Kira, have you tasted these cocktails? They are absolutely vile.” I snatch my arm away and go to fetch the mop and bucket.
It takes twice as long because not only do Kira’s friends stop me with smiles and random chats, but Zedd also wants to know what the mop is for. I gladly inform him of my mishap, and like magic, he lets me go.
I’m surprised to see Kira still standing there, finishing my drink, brows furrowed in contemplation as I work.
“Addy,” she calls as soon as I finish. “I may be going out on a limb here, but I strongly believe you’ve got a bigger mess to deal with than the one you just made here.”
“What do you mean?”
“We sync, don’t we? Every time we live together. Our cycles sync.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, I’m on my period right now. Are you?”
My eyes pop when I realize what she’s suggesting. “Kira, stop, that’s not even funny.”
But my heart has already started to trip over itself.
She gets into my face. “You banged your ex right in the middle of your cycle. And three weeks later, you’re here puking on everyone. I probably don’t need to ask if you used a condom.”
My lids fall closed. No, you don’t.
Kira bends and gives me a sound peck, then leaves me reeling.
“What a wonderful world,” she singsongs, mimicking Louis Armstrong’s deep baritone as she expertly picks her way through the terrace into the lounge.
The mop clatters to the floor as my mind serves me a red-hot visual of the way Dante drove himself deep inside me. How stars burst behind my eyelids as his cock dragged tightly against my G-spot. The scorching heat of his semen as he filled me up. And I know without a doubt that he got me pregnant that night.
Hell. Do I even need a test at this point?
Chapter Thirteen
Dante
The clang of iron reverberates through the gym as I pump the weights, my muscles screaming in protest. I’m not even breaking a sweat, but pretending to listen to Sal as he drones about tonight’s security protocol is exhausting.
“So, we’re all set for your meeting with the Senator. Cameras have been angled to cover blind spots. No one’s getting in without a key card access and a hand job.”
Sal’s voice crackles over the phone, a momentary pause before he continues, but it’s enough for me to hear his deliberate slip-up, which is aimed at jolting me back into focus.
