I’m too focused on what she’s doing behind me to dig deeper into her answer. Another drawer slams shut behind me, and my anxiety only rises the longer I have my back turned to her. I need to have my eyes on what she’s doing while I'm in here with her. No telling what she’ll do if I have my back turned for too long.
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup. If you want something else to drink other than water, let me know.”
“I don’t want any of that, actually,” she snips, the attitude in her voice undoing what her song did.
Here we go.
“What do you want then?” I bite out.
“Fuck if I know. I’m not really even that hungry. A football player would have gotten full off that breakfast.”
“Well, the baby needs to eat something,” I tell her, determined to keep my patience.
Another drawer closes, except a bit harder this time.
“The baby, the baby. Everything’s about this little gremlin. If I weren’t pregnant, you’d probably let me starve.”
“That’s a hell of an accusation,” I spit out. “Of course, I’d feed you. I wouldn’t let you be hungry. I’m not a monster.”
“Right, just a kidnapper.” She snickers at her own statement.
I open my mouth to respond, but just as I get ready to, her hand gently touches the middle of my back, and I jump at least a foot in the air. The tray clatters to the floor, and tomato soup goes everywhere when it hits the ground. I whirl around, and my heart knocks against my chest bone as I back away from her to create as much distance as I can between us.
I didn’t even hear her coming toward me.
She’s frowning down at the tomato soup splattered around on the floor and wall like blood, the grilled cheese right in the middle of it. I calm down just a bit when I see she’s not up to anything.
But her stealth quickly leaves my mind when I finally put together what she’s wearing.
The woman’s standing before me dressed in one of Megan's lingerie nighties. I’m glad she’s looking down at the mess I made because I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s standing there with one hand on her hip that’s jutting out, the slit on the side exposing a good portion of her long legs and opening up to reveal the pink panties underneath. She doesn’t have a bra on, which gives the nightie an entirely different look than what I’m used to. Her full breasts fill the top out exactly the way it’s meant to look, the soft satin clinging to her nipples in a way that makes my mouth go dry. Her belly is a soft, erotic swell beneath the fabric that begs for my hands to skim over it.
I’ve seen Megan in this before, and it never fails to have me all over her, but now, it’s been taken up a notch. Alana isn’t shy and doesn’t try to hide herself at all.
She looks powerful, sexy, like some kind of fertility goddess standing there with her shoulders back, the lingerie a showcase for her perfect figure. Hell, as much as I hate her, I can feel my cock twitch as I take in the sight, feeling the lines blur between Megan and Alana ever so briefly in my mind.
“Actually, I want this now,”she states, reminding me that she’s Alana, and my face heats up. “That soup smells fucking delicious.”
When I don’t respond, she looks up at me, and the rage that takes over her face is instant and very much expected. Her hand drops from her hip, and both ball into fists at her side. Still, she doesn’t try to hide herself.
“Quit fucking staring! What, did you and Megan only fuck fully clothed?” she snickers. “You need to do my laundry since you won’t let me leave this room.”
Absent-mindedly, I spring into motion, quickly heading to the pile of clothes she’s pointing at, trying to get my head back on straight as my face only grows hotter.
“Get me more food first!” She snaps at me, and I instantly change my direction. “Remake this. I want it now.”
“It won’t take me long to remake it,” I mumble as I hastily clean the mess off the floor the best I can right now.
“While you’re out there, bring me a robe,” she demands.
“Sure,” I offer the only response I’m capable of at the moment.
As I clean, I hear her sit on the bed, and as hard as I try to keep my attention off the energy swirling around us like a tornado forming, I can’t. I peek up at her as she situates the pillows strategically under her belly. One of her hands rests on her stomach, the other under her pillow, and from this angle, the curve of her hips and how one of her legs is bent over the other makes her look like she’s posing for a lingerie catalog.
She looks amazing. Megan always looks great, but this is different, and I fight to remind myself that I shouldn’t be looking at this version ofherand feeling what I am.
Once I’m done cleaning the mess I made, I tell her I’ll be right back before I leave the room and lock the door behind me. I don’t move from this spot outside the door. Instead, I stand here with Alana burned into my mind's eye. Megan’s precious, and even in her lingerie, she seems innocent. But Alana… she looked forbidden, and she is.
I rationalize that any man would have frozen up seeing her lying on the bed like that; my reaction was just a typical guy's response to seeing their woman looking that sexy with their child inside of them.
The only thing is, that isn’t Megan in there lying on the bed.
I swallow hard as shame washes over me. Even if it was for just a moment, that was still way too long to be looking at Alana that way. Not just because of how horrid she is but also because she’s a completely different person altogether. Alana’s the number one problem for Megan and me, and my small moment of weakness has me pissed at myself, but mostly, I’m confused. I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. How the fuck did that happen?
But it definitely won't happen again. I need to get more clothes for her, then I won’t have to worry about her resorting to wearing lingerie. Problem solved. I can easily stop that from happening again.
Once I have myself together, I head towards the kitchen to remake Alana’s lunch as I think about this trip into town I’m about to make before dinner.