My Cousin's Pregnant Girlfriend - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

My nerves were fried, and I was stuck in limbo—no clue what my next move should be.
Then the phone rang, jolting me upright like an electric shock.
Vanessa's lips twisted into a pout, irritation flashing in her eyes. "Fine, I'll cut you some slack this time. Go ahead, pretty boy." She snatched up the call and shooed me away with a flick of her wrist.
Weirdly, as I walked out, a strange twinge of disappointment settled in my chest.
I was almost at the foyer when it hit me—I'd left a tool behind. Doubling back, I caught a snippet of Vanessa's conversation:
"Obviously you're the best, Ryan. And not just your hands—you're a god in bed too."
My brain short-circuited. Ryan Roscente? But he'd played dumb about knowing her earlier.
She wasn't wrapping up the call, and I wasn't the kind of guy to lurk around eavesdropping.
Screw it. The tool was cheap anyway. I could replace it.
The whole ride home, my mind kept circling back to that name: Ryan.
And speak of the devil—there he was, lounging in my apartment like he owned the place.
A smirk curled his lips as he threw an arm around my shoulders. "So, little cuz, how was the client? Stacked?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them: "You tell me, Ryan. Shouldn't you know?"
Instant regret. But it didn't matter—he'd seen Vanessa's pics. He knew exactly how "stacked" she was.
Ryan tsked. "Don't trust photos, kid. These days, filters can turn a troll into a supermodel."
"Last week, I had some postpartum client who'd ballooned fifty pounds. Her Instagram? Total catfish."
"Goddamn pregnant women. So damn high-maintenance."
He kept ranting, and I studied him.
If they knew each other, why the act?
Afraid I'd poach his clients? Maybe.
I shrugged it off.
A few days later, another booking popped up.
Vanessa's address. A competitive fire lit in my chest.
She'd claimed I couldn't hold a candle to Ryan, yet here she was, calling me back. Honestly? My hands were magic.
I grabbed my gear and headed over.
The door was wide open when I arrived. Before I could step inside, the sound of shattering glass and a screaming match hit me.
Vanessa was tearing into some guy—a stranger.
Not my circus, not my monkeys. If this was a lover's spat, me barging in would only make it messier.
I peeked inside. The place was trashed—furniture smashed, glass everywhere.
The guy grabbed Vanessa by her hair, dragging her out. Tears streaked her face, a vicious handprint blooming on her cheek. Despite the pain, she cradled her swollen belly like a shield.
"Please," she sobbed. "I'm pregnant. Don't—don't hurt the baby!"
When he reared back to kick her stomach, I saw red.
That kick could've killed her.
I lunged.
Vanessa's eyes locked onto mine, wild with relief. "Help me! I don't even know him!"
Broad daylight, and this psycho was beating a pregnant woman? Un-freaking-believable.
I decked him. With my build, it took zero effort to pin him down. One hand clamped on his throat, the other fumbling for my phone.
Then Vanessa screamed, doubling over in pain.
Distracted, my grip slipped—and the bastard bolted.
Rage burned through me. What kind of coward targets a woman? I'd have broken his face if I'd gotten the chance.
Vanessa whimpered, tugging my sleeve. "It hurts… carry me to bed."
She looked ghostly pale. Without thinking, I scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.
As for the attacker? This was a gated community. Cameras everywhere.
The second I laid her down, she clung to me.
Pregnancy had amplified her curves, her body soft and warm against mine. My pulse kicked into overdrive.
My brain replayed that accidental glimpse in the bathroom—pink peaks against milky skin. It had fueled too many late-night fantasies. With no girlfriend, my right hand had been working overtime.
And now here she was, pressed against me. Heat flooded my veins.
I jerked back, putting space between us.
"Don't worry," I said, forcing calm. "They'll catch him."
Then, shocker—Vanessa begged me to stay the night. Terrified the guy would come back.
I hesitated. What if her husband or boyfriend walked in? My being here would raise all kinds of questions.
"He wouldn't care," she spat, voice bitter. "He barely visits."
Her eyes turned pleading. "Please. Just tonight. I'm alone here. If that monster comes back… I can't fight him off."
How could I say no?
I stayed.
That night, I crashed in the room next to Vanessa's. Half-asleep, my brain foggy with exhaustion, I swore I heard moans from next door—each one louder, needier.
Then, faint but clear, my name.
And suddenly, a warm, sinuous body curled into my arms like a second skin.