The Billionaire’s Risky Pregnancy

Chapter 8

A little voice in the back of her head told her to hang onto her lease. She would leave his palace with what she could stuff in a suitcase and nothing more. Come back with George for the rest. Or not. Maybe everything that had touched his life was toxic in its own away. A cramp suddenly consumed her, and she doubled over on the bed and tried to fight it off.

“Not now,” she whispered under her breath. “We need to get going, baby. And I can’t do that if…”

Her stomach started to rumble, and Tasha shifted to her back and tried not to cry. Was it the pain in her belly or the fury from Smith’s eyes? Sucking in several deep breaths as she smoothed her hands down her face, she heard his footsteps bounding up the steps. He was going to pick another fight. And she didn’t know if she had the strength to…

“One more thing!” Smith bellowed as he practically flung the door off of its hinges. “Since when does saying that you should lie down make me the bad guy?” He stood in the door frame, tense and tall. Tasha weakly lifted her head, ready to call him out when the pain was too much and she succumbed to the pillows.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a quavering voice. “You…” His voice cut off as he spied her suitcase and smirked. “Did you already call George?”

“No,” Tasha managed. “I called no one. I just need a minute to…” The pain was back before she could complete the thought, and Tasha turned to her side, closing her eyes and wanting the rest of the world to just go away. She felt his shadow creeping closer and bit down on her lower lip when the mattress shifted and his hand met the back of her head.

“Tasha?’ he asked. “What’s happening?” She sighed as his hand trickled down her spine and settled at the small of her back. He rubbed a comforting circled into her skin, and she reached back for his hand and squeezed his wrist hard.

“Sometimes  I… I don’t think before I speak,” she said. “You know that much about me.”

“Like when I parked under a tree and you thought I was a snob?” he asked.

“You are a snob, Smith,” she said. “When you look at me like a few Big Macs is like swallowing the Black Plague whole.”

“How many Big Macs did you actually eat, Tasha?” She was too weak to deny him the truth, and he shook his head as he lowered his lips to kiss her cheek. Tasha smiled and reached for her his face.

“Too many,” she said. “Maybe that’s why I’m so out of sorts.” She wanted that to just be it. For nothing else to be wrong. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he soothed. “It’s all on me.” He found her lips, and she accepted his lips and felt her body relax against the sheets.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she said. “Are you going to leave me now?” Smith looked hurt until she traced her finger against his jaw. Her hand expanded to clutch his chin, and he turned into her palm and fell to her side. As he took her into his arms, she realized that his hands kept avoiding her belly.

“You’re not happy with the way things are,” she said. He sighed into her shoulder, and she wanted to weep when he turned her to his chest and held her close.

“I’m trying,” he said. “And I’ll take it.”

“What?” she asked. His hands were on her face, and Tasha stared hard into his eyes. “What do you want?” Smith started to speak when he held back. Kissing her ears as he lowered his head to her neck and fell into her bre*sts, Tasha let him linger and ran her fingers through his hair before he finally looked up at her with bleary eyes.

“I’ll take you being angry if we can get to this place.”

It wasn’t enough. But she didn’t want to step into the night all alone. Without him.

“I’ll stay until the morning,” she said.

“And after that?” Tasha had no answer to that question, but Smith did not press the issue as he laid down beside her and rubbed her arms.

“Tomorrow,” she finally whispered. “We’ll talk it out in the morning.”

“I want to do it now, Tasha,” he insisted. “Can’t stand another—”

“Can you just not?” she begged. “Just hold me.” He huffed but finally took her into his arms. It was never going to work for the long haul, but she liked being close to him and moved her hand down his arms so she could hold his hand.

“That works, too,” Tasha said. “We’ll fight again tomorrow.”

“Wake up fast, sweetheart.”

Her head bobbed up, and their eyes locked when he suddenly heard the sound of his own words and bit his lip.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Any of it.”

“Neither did I, Smith,” she said. He held her closer and kissed her hair.

“Whatever you want,” he started. “As long as it doesn’t mean that I have to let you go.” Tasha couldn’t answer that, and she tried to fall asleep. His arms could seem so soft when he drifted off, and she wanted to fall away into his hold when the pain in her middle was too much to bite back. She was careful to leaved his arm and she stumbled to the bathroom, ready to cough up too many burgers and fries. But she couldn’t get anything out, and she fell closer to the edge of the bowl when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey? You okay in there?”

He knocked again, and Tasha struggled to her knees to let him in. The handle was almost in reach when she balanced her body against the hamper and found her way to her feet. It was nothing. Maybe she needed his help to get back to bed, but she wouldn’t show him anything more once she settled in the sheets. And he could go back to the sofa. It didn’t matter to her… no really…

“What?” she asked as her teeth chattered and she tried to stay upright.

“I… hi,” he said. “Heard you get up. Do you need something?”

“Your arm will do just fine.” He offered it without hesitation, and she leaned against him and tried to keep her wits about her. Something was different. It was wrong. She needed to find her cell phone and call George. Her friend would know what to do. And no doubt he would make his way to her door.

“Oh my God!” The pain hit her brain and flooded through her body. She felt as if she would collapse under own weight, the baby’s weight…

…but Smith kept her close and moved with her as he guided her back to the bed.

“I’m calling someone,” he said.

“George?” she desperately asked.

“Like a fucking professional, Tasha!” he screamed. “We’re not taking any chances.” He left her alone to retrieve his phone, and she wondered how long she would have to languish in agony when he returned to the bed and cupped her chin in his hands.

“Smith?”

“I’m right here.” He clutched her hand and smoothed his fingers across her brow as he kissed her cheeks.

“Ten minutes,” he said. “That’s too long. She needs help now.” Smith ended the call and started to bundle her into a blanket as she struggled to stand on trembling legs.