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with his come dripping slowly down my inner thighs.
    He’s making me pay , I thought. He hadn’t meant it; he hadn’t got carried away with attraction for me like I had for him. He was just making me pay.
    After that, Beck’s hooded gaze watched me get up naked and go to the bathroom to clean up. He’d pulled on his unzipped jeans and sat sprawled in a chair.
    I couldn’t find my thong, but I wasn’t about to ask him. In his bathroom mirror, I looked like a slut that had just been fucked, and I couldn’t believe this side of Beck. I’d thought I knew him well enough, but the Beck I knew would never have done this.
    Maybe I was so appalled at my own behavior that I didn’t know what to say, because normally I would stand up to Beck and argue with him. But this time I was devastated that the passion had only been one-sided.
    So instead of being smart and trying to figure out what was going on, I came out of the bathroom, grabbed my purse, and yelled at him, “I hate you!”
    Then I stormed out of the room.
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
     
    After that I didn’t see Beck for a week, while I worried myself crazy over when I’d get summoned to court. It was hard to go back to work and concentrate, but I had to make a living.
    Then, I was driving up to my house on Friday night, at the end of the work week, when I saw a motorcycle sitting in the dusk in my driveway. I could barely make out a large leather-clad man leaning against the motorcycle.
    When my headlights hit the figure, I saw it was Beck and my heart leaped and clenched in alternate beats. I looked back at Bartie in the back seat—I had just picked him up from the sitters and as usual with car rides he was dozing.
    I couldn’t imagine what it meant seeing Beck before hearing from his lawyers, but God did he have to look so hot. His bad boy biker look instantly made my girlie parts tingle.
    I left Bart in the car as I got out and looked over the hood of my SUV at Beck.
    “I want to see Bart,” he said, without preamble. He didn’t sound mad exactly, and stupid parts of me were excited Bart’s dad wanted to see him. God, I made no sense whatsoever.
    “I’m not sure it would be wise of me to let the man who is trying to take him away from me do that,” I said, as evenly as I could.
    Beck straightened from his motorcycle, but he didn’t come closer.
    “Is that any worse than keeping a man’s baby from him?” he asked. I flinched, and started to speak from a place that hurt so bad. But Beck held up his hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I have anger issues about that I’m still working through.”
    I worried my teeth over my bottom lip ... he had a right to have anger issues about what I had done, still after that scene in his hotel room—
    “Look, Millie, you hate me now so we don’t have to worry about the brother and sister attraction and getting together thing any longer, and if we can just come to a visitation agreement, I don’t really want to take you to court.”
    My heartbeat was slamming against my chest as he spoke, and nothing he said relieved it, but I had to do what was best for Bart.
    Still, I couldn’t help the broken part of me from whispering, “What if there is another baby.”
    I saw Beck’s intensity, before he uttered, “Then I’ll help take care of both of them.”
    “Wow.” I hadn’t really meant for that to come out of my mouth, but it seemed Beck was willing to go to extraordinary lengths to be a part of his son’s life.
    “I know I’m an ass, Millie, and I swear I will work through it. You know me well enough; you know my word is good.”
    So that was how I warily let Beck into my house to have dinner with us and then I watched as Beck fed Bart, gave him a bath, changed his diapers, and played with him until he put him to bed. I was probably an idiot for allowing it after what Beck did to us, but he was right, I did know him well enough.
    As I watched him with Bart, I started to remember how well I