Free Expecting Him by Scarlet Corrine Page A

But I quickly drag my eyes back up to meet his snide look. Somehow, I resist the urge to fold my arms across my chest. Instead, I curl them across my stomach self-consciously. "I—uh—yeah. Yes. Everything did, really."
    He is staring at my breasts with such heat I feel fire on my skin and I shift in my seat. I hate that he makes me remember how much I miss having a man look at me like I’m a desirable woman. I resent that he reminds me where my husband is failing.
    "You’re s till breastfeeding?" He props his booted feet on my coffee table and drapes his arm over the back of the couch. I abhor how badly I want to sit next to him. Breathe in more of his scent. Feel his heat warm my shaky body. Feel his fist wrap the length of my ginger hair and give it a sharp yank.
    My lips part so I can lick over my dry lips. I hesitate before answering. "Yes."
    "Good," is the simple response he grants me.
    "Uh, y..yes, it’s good. They say it's best for the baby for the first year, you know," I stammer again, trying so very hard to keep the conversation in familiar, friendly territory. Not down the dark path he’s trying to drag me.
    The path I want him to force me down…
    He is watching me with such intensity in his eyes. His expression is not anything one could call pleasant.
    "Show me," he demand s. “Show me now.” He leans forward, waiting for me to obey, twining his fingers together as he rests his elbows on his knees.
    I take a shaky breath in and let it out in a whoosh. It inadvertently makes my breasts lift and fall under his gaze as I hug my arms around myself.
    "No," I whisper. His laughter is a sharp barking sound that makes me jump as if he’d reached out and slapped me. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hit me when I didn’t do what he asked.
    It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it on purpose just so he would strike out.
    He’s the only one that understands the perverted side of me. He gets me. Martin is just as fucked up as I am.
    No, he’s worse. Much, much worse. There is a darkness that lingers inside him like nothing I’ve ever seen. It scares me. Yet it makes me wet.
    Leaning back into the couch, he crosses his leg to rest casually on his knee. He tilts his head to the side when he questions me, "So, he's away tonight, is he? Out of town, I’m guessing?"
    Ever so slowly, I nod. "Yes. Just overnight. He’ll be b ack tomorrow."
    He doesn't respond but continues to stare at me. The silence is unnerving, and I speak up again trying to bring back the friendly tone.
    "He —I mean, I hate it when he has to travel. I'm not used to being alone at night. I get so—so scared. It's, it was nice of you to stop by and check on me while he’s out of…"
    I trail off. He has stopped smiling, but amusement tugs at one corner of his mouth in the form of a smirk. My gaze slips to the floor as humiliation sets in. He lets me sit there in uncomfortable silence for a moment, then says my name to make me look at him.
    " Ana, I want you to tell me something. Your husband, is he fucking you?"
    I exhale with a shocked gasp through my open mouth at the forwardness of this question, but the few moments of silence before I can come up with a good answer tells him all he needs to know. I have never been able to lie to him.
    "No," I admit, very quietly.
    He waits. The smirk on his sensual lips is even more pronounced now. My cunt weeps for him. I hate myself for it. Truly, I do.
    "He— I mean, we’re afraid I'll get pregnant again. I can't take birth control while I'm breastfeeding and he—I don't know. It seems like since the baby was born…"
    "And that's why you called me , isn’t it? Because you know I'll fuck you. I’ll fuck you like you need to be fucked."
    I can’t help but notice how he’s looking very comfortable on my couch, in my home, in my husband’s place. His voice is low, a primitive growl almost. “You know I’m not like your husband. I don’t care that you’ve had a baby. That your body has