“It will be again,” he warns before taking my mouth hard, suppressing me with his tongue. His fingers pull my panties aside, slipping in and dancing over my aching heat.

“Shit,” I breathe against his lips, forgetting where I am for a moment. Forgetting we can’t stand each other.

“You want relief, Holly?” he asks as my hips start to ride the rhythm of his talented fingers.

“Yes, give it to me, Sy,” I plead, feeling myself build with each flick of his finger.

“Say please,” he demands, slipping his thick finger inside of me.

“Please, Sy,” I cry out as he pumps me harder.

“That’s it, girl. Fuck my finger,” he growls. The heat of his voice causes goose bumps to break out on my skin. A wave of impending bliss washes over me, and then my orgasm hits, hard and fast.

“Sy,” I hiss, but don’t get anything else out as his tongue is dancing with mine again, muffling my shouts of ecstasy. His taste reminds me of beer, mint, and all things Sy. He latches onto my tongue, sucking it hard into his mouth, sending pleasure and pain rolling through my body.

Fuck, this man is dangerous with his bad-boy attitude, his sexy as hell dirty mouth and his ability to take me on the highest of highs in less than a minute. He slows the kiss, lingering for a moment before resting his forehead on mine. This right here is why this man is dangerous: bringing me apart in the middle of the club, and making me forget I hate him. Removing his fingers, he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Mmm,” he murmurs.

I’m not surprised by the drop in my stomach watching him get lost in the taste of my orgasm.

“Now, tell me that was mediocre.” He smirks after licking his fingers.

“Get off me.” I push at him, jolted back into reality.

“Not until you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you, Holly. Don’t come into my club and think you can play me. You won’t win,” he says, turning, leaving me again after a mind-blowing orgasm. I don’t know what’s worse, watching him leave while I stood naked in my house, or now, fully dressed and feeling like a whore in his club.

Fucker.

***

Pregnant…

“How can I be pregnant?” I ask the doctor two weeks later.

“Sometimes the contraceptive pill isn’t one hundred percent foolproof. Anything as simple as taking your pill a few hours late can mess with the accuracy of it,” he repeats for the second time this morning. I made him retest me twice before I believed him and now I’m freaking out.

Well, shit, I’m going to be a mom. I race to the small sink in the doctor’s room and throw up my breakfast for the fifth morning this week. I knew something was off last week when I started feeling nauseous. I didn’t think this was what he would be telling me though. I expected something more along the lines of a virus.

“I can’t believe this,” I say to myself, shaking my head. How the hell am I going to be a mom?

“We can look at your options, but I’d like to give you all the information and give you a few days to think on it,” he says, seemingly reading my mind.

Shit, how am I going to tell Sy? After our two times together a few weeks ago, we’ve kept our distance. The way we left things should be enough to prove to me there is no way he will ever be okay with this when he can’t stand to be around me. Oh, God.

“Speak to Carla out front and ask her to book you an appointment a week from today. We can then discuss your options,” he says, standing from behind his desk and handing me some pamphlets.

“Thank you.” I nod numbly, leaving the room before I break down. I need to call my mom.

Racing out with my mounting anxiety, I make it to my car and ring my mom before I have a full-on panic attack. I don’t even bother making an appointment. My head is too foggy. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she answers, her normal happy self.

“Hey, Mom.” I begin to cry, knowing she’ll be supportive but still be worried.

“What’s wrong, doll?” she asks.

“I’ve messed up, Mom,” I say, sniffing into the phone.

“Okay,” she says calmly, not freaking out.

“I’m pregnant,” I croak out, knowing I just have to get it out there. The line goes quiet and for a moment I think I’ve lost her.

“Mom?”

“I’m here. I just had to sit down a moment.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom, for calling you like this,” I cry into the phone, clearly not thinking this through. What kind of daughter just calls their mom and dumps this shit on them?

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” she says, trying to calm me down as I sob into the phone. This is not meant to happen.

“I don’t know how this happened. I’m on the pill. The doctor said it can happen, but shit, Mom, two times with a guy and I’m pregnant. I was just so stupid.”

“Does he know?” she asks, talking about the baby’s father. Sy, the man who doesn’t even want me.

“God, no,” I respond, drawing in a breath at the thought of telling him. “It wasn’t anything serious,” I cringe at admitting it, but it’s the truth. Even if I wanted more, Sy isn’t the type of man to go there.

“It’s going to be okay, Holly,” she tries to comfort me, but there’s nothing she can say that will take away my unease and fear.