He charges around the desk, coming closer until we’re face to face. He doesn’t intimidate me, and I refuse to back down.

“Thanks for the psychoanalysis, but it won’t be necessary.” His calm tone is delivered with controlled force.

“You don’t have to be so hard all the time,” I say. “You’re nothing but edges. If you’d soften up once in a while…”

“Not everyone lives in a little glass bubble where the sun always shines and life never gets real.” He huffs, his stormy eyes grazing my lips. “Must be fucking nice to always have shit figured out, Odessa. But I’m working on mine, so how about you worry about your own for once?”

“Why are you doing this?”

I search his eyes for a hint of anything that might tell me this friendship, whatever we have, is salvageable because I know what I saw back in Utah. He’s a good person. He has a good heart. This man seething in front of me is about to snap, and he needs someone there to pick up the pieces when he does.

“Push me away all you want,” I say. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both.”

“You’re a damn fool,” he growls.

“Likewise.” I stand tall. “You need me. You need me and you hate the hell out of that fact. You’d be a fool to let me walk away, but lucky for you, I’m not going to.”

“I’m not capable of giving you the things you need.” His words offer an angry apology.

“It’s not about me, Beckham. It’s not about what I need.” Our eyes lock. I’m never letting go. At least not until he hears me out. “You told me once everyone’s in it for themselves. But you were wrong because if that were the case, I’d have walked away from you a long time ago. You’re right. You’re not what I need. But you need me. And I’m going to be there for you because that’s what friends do.”

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling.

“And like it or not, we’re friends.” I press my pointer finger into his heart. “Deny it all you want, but–”

A flash in his eyes precedes the grip he takes around my wrist, yanking me against his rigid body before I have a chance to protest.

“We passed friends a long time ago, don’t you think?”

I’m locked against him, his hands twisted in my hair and his lips silencing mine with a crushing kiss. My tongue dances with his. I’m caught between wanting to breathe and wanting to exist purely in this moment.

His hands fall to my waist, and he spins me around, stepping toward me until I fall back onto his desk. Leaning forward, he clears the space behind me, shoving his stapler aside. A cup of pens scatters on the floor, but his focus is on me. Beckham’s fingers work the button of my pants followed by the zipper, and within seconds my pants are tossed aside and my panties are ripped in two.

His mouth smashes mine, and he takes my bottom lip between his teeth as my hands work his belt. The heat in my body soars each time my fingers graze across the hardness beneath his layers.

The second he’s free and sheathed, he hoists my thighs around his hips, plowing his swollen cock into me like the whole fucking free world depends on it.

Beckham’s painfully delicious thrusts build a warm friction. With my fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging and pulling, I widen my legs and welcome every generous inch of him.

Every plunge.

Every push.

Every prod.

But sex with Beckham is the perfect guilty pleasure. Carnal and uncomplicated. Exactly the way it should be.

His hand gropes my breast over my blouse, and I spot the longing in his eyes to be naked, touching all of me. He needs that closeness he so stubbornly tries to deny himself.

My ankles dig into his tight ass, pushing him deeper inside me as his thrusts quicken. The build-up washes over me as my nails claw his back. Warm spurts fill me, and his face tenses and relaxes as he unloads everything he has into me.

When it’s over, we don’t speak about it. We don’t need to. It is what it is.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

BECKHAM

I’m not sure what we are.

All I know is my cock and Odessa’s pussy are addicted to each other and have been for the last month, ever since she marched into my office and refused to leave the day I met up with Sophie.

She doesn’t ask for labels. We don’t hold hands or talk about the future. I don’t make promises and she doesn’t expect them.

I’ve never been so content with an arrangement before, but I’d be lying if the thought of her meeting another asshole and running off with him didn’t cause my heart to drop into my stomach.

Odessa reminds me not to think about the things I can’t control.

She’s right.

Shit. She’s right about almost everything.

It’s the sexiest, most infuriating feature about that woman.

My attempt to take her advice to heart is the reason I’m hunched over my sink on this Saturday morning in May, staring at an envelope from the Accusure DNA Corporation.

The truth is in there.

Separated by a thick white envelope is the answer to my future, to Sadie’s future.

I want her to be mine more than I ever thought I would.

I never wanted to be a father, but I want to be Sadie’s father.

The thing came weeks ago. I’ve done nothing but stare at it, hoping one of these days I can summon the strength to see what’s inside.

Odessa barges in the bathroom, rifling through my drawers for her strawberry red toothbrush. The one she constantly accuses me of hiding and the one I constantly accuse her of misplacing.

“What’s that?” She stops yanking on drawers when she spots the white envelope. “You didn’t tell me that came in the mail. Oh, my God. Are you going to open it?”

She sweeps her dark, fiery hair from her face and ties it on top of her head, leaning against the vanity.

“Don’t know.” I swipe the envelope and trace my finger along the seam.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Her green eyes flash wild. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Got a call from Dr. Brentwood yesterday.” I stare ahead at my tired expression. I swear to God I’ve aged ten years in the last two months.

She folds her arms, studying me, waiting in patient silence.

“Apparently Eva has been out of the hospital for a couple weeks now. She made some indication during treatment that she wishes to relinquish her parental rights to Sadie.”

Odessa pops up, her hands covering her smiling lips. “That’s a good thing, right?”

My mouth hardens. “She told Dr. Brentwood that she was fired from the fertility clinic for tampering with medical records.”

“So what does that mean then? Sadie has to be yours.”

“The timeline doesn’t add up.” I fight the choking sensation in my throat as heat creeps up to my ears. “The pregnancy, the due date. Sadie had to have been conceived after she was fired.”

She closes the space between us, her hand resting on my tensed forearm. Odessa hesitates for a moment before pressing her cheek against my arm. She’s a fool for thinking she can comfort me.

“If Eva doesn’t want Sadie.” Constriction in my chest makes it hard to breathe. “And she’s not mine biologically…”

“Don’t say it.” Odessa pulls away, dragging her fingers over my lips.

I have to say it. This is reality. This is real life. Running from the hard truth isn’t an option.

“I don’t know if the court will let me adopt her. I’m just some random asshole Sadie’s mother once fucked.”

“You’re so much more than that, Beck. You’re Sadie’s father. Biologically or not. You’re the only father she’s known. The only person who came to her rescue when she needed someone the most.”

“You make it sound poetic,” I huff.

“It’s a beautiful thing, the bond you two have.”

I shake my head. “How the hell am I going to prove to a family court judge that a two month old is bonded to me? It’s not like she can walk in there and ramble on about our late night feedings.”