Until November

Chapter 8

Ben 

Jocelyn's determined gaze hits me like a punch. She stands taller, the rebellious gleam in her eye is a challenge I could wrestle out of her, especially in the bedroom, a place that sparked jealousy when she had asked about Mia. I fold my arms over my chest, not wanting to admit we have our answer. I offered. She accepted. 

She glares at me, but a smile creeps up at her mouth. "I'm not hoping to use you and post your photo all over social media. It would be so private that no one could know about it except the lawyers," she says what I'm thinking.

She wraps her hands around both my wrists. Go on, keep that up. Touch me. The charge in her eyes isn't defusing, it's building steadily. Her hands pulls me closer, her warmth sinking into me, sending signals to places that need to maintain control on a day I want nothing but to take away the pain. My gaze sweeps over her mouth, her face. What she could do to blot out the rest of this awful day if Jack hadn't left us with this choice. Her ample breasts brush against me, sparking thoughts desperate to be blotted out. Her eyes hold my attention, begging me think about what's underneath is distracting as hell. "We can't waste any more time," she says evenly. "Two months. One million dollars—your original offer—if you walk away at the end. And if you do, I will raise her. I will honor Jack and Hannah's last request that if you won't do it, then I will. It's foolproof. It's our failsafe." 

My hands drop to her belly. "I hate letting Jack win," I whisper from a place of burned, buried memories that I'm not ready to confront. 

"This is not about winning." Her voice is a reprimand. "I don't know what happened between you and Jack but you loved each other at one point."

Inhaling a patient, loaded breath, I fight my brother's wishes. Somehow giving in to the last few days that have building to this. "I have to be out here anyway to handle Jack's affairs...Christ. It's like he knew I would have to go through with this." A fresh batch of annoyance ignites with a disparaging gaze of the house. Memories of helping my dad with his contracting business flood me. My dad would have loved this house. He would have loved the challenge. One more look at her and my stomach tightens. Eight short weeks. "Fine. We'll do this."

She gives me a jarring gaze. "Okay."

I angle my neck towards the kitchen. Can't wait to see what treasure lies in that room. "Plenty of space. We won't even run into each other."

Jocelyn's eyebrows knit together skeptically. "I do have a spare room, but my guest room will be turned into a nursery. As impressive as I'm sure you are when you're sharing a bed, I don't like to give up what sleeping space I have in my full-size bed. You'll have to sleep on the couch. Or get an air mattress—"

"You sleep on a full-size bed?" I cut her off. My brow creases.

"Yes. Why is that a big deal?" She folds her arms over her chest, but with the belly it ends up supporting her arms like a traveling table. "Are you being competitive about bed sizes?"

"I'm competitive about things that are important to me." I'm distracted by thinking about Jocelyn in that bed. And if she's had no guys here, then it hasn't been properly been broken in. "Some of us have California Kings."

"Someone give you a trophy." Jocelyn scoffs and turns around, walking away from me into the kitchen. "I need some water," she calls out. "Any for you?"

"Sure." My gaze lowers down her back to the sway of her crazy hair, my cock twitches at the thought of my hand on her back, dragging down her curves. My gaze moves past her shoulder. Am I really going to live here? The kitchen is an even greater tragedy. "They still make linoleum floors?"