Rocker (Cerberus MC #13) - Marie James Page 0,102

work yet you can’t keep secrets? I’m never telling you shit again.”

“Just how often do you guys discuss that kind of stuff?” Simone is grinning, pretending she isn’t preparing to rip into both of us. We both know better.

“Good morning!”

Every head in the room turns as a woman saunters in, wearing what appears to be Jinx’s t-shirt and not much else. Jinx doesn’t look at her, his focus immediately returning to Simone. We all know what’s going to happen. This isn’t the first time he’s used our unique situation to try and get rid of a woman.

“Who the fuck is she?” Simone snaps with very little emotion in her voice, but just like clockwork, her hand lays protectively over her stomach. “Are you fucking kidding me? I go out of town for one night and have to come home to this shit?”

The girl stiffens, a terrified look taking over every feature of her face.

Simone turns and glares at Jinx. “I’m having your damn baby, and this is how you repay me?”

I turn away from them because I can’t keep the smile off my face.

“Baby, listen. It’s not what it seems,” Jinx responds flawlessly, putting a little more gusto in the words than required. I think the man lives for this shit, honestly. “Jenny just needed a place to sleep last night.”

“I slept in your bed,” the girl snaps, her hand going to her hip. “After we fucked three times.”

“All of my friends were right about you!” Simone wails, her palm reaching up and hitting Jinx across the face.

Well, that little addition is new telling from the surprise that flashes in Jinx’s eyes, but then a slow mischievous grin spreads across his face, and it’s clear he enjoyed the aggression. This man and his fucking kinks. I’m seconds away from stepping in, my territorial nature demanding I take a stand against the way my best friend is looking at my woman, but Simone bends in the middle, moaning loudly as she grips her belly with both hands.

“Oh fuck,” Jinx hisses. “What’s wrong?”

Simone groans right on cue, and the sound is so real, my smile grows wider. I thought doing this would get old, but I’m thoroughly entertained by it each time it happens.

“Umm, I should go,” the girl hisses, sounding sorry for her choices last night.

Jinx looks over his shoulder, grinning at the sound of the front door snapping closed.

“That was fucking perfect,” Jinx praises, rubbing his hand lower on Simone’s back. “The slap was a nice addition. Keep that one in the routine, yeah? Who wants pancakes?”

“Simone?” She’s still bent over, groaning as if she’s in pain. “The girl left. You can stop.”

“Can’t,” she pants, another ungodly groan coming from her lips. “I’m in labor.”

Jinx laughs. “Good one. Ha ha. Do you want waffles instead?”

Instead of answering, her water breaks. Yep, right there on the kitchen floor, and as much as we’ve prepared for this, my mind blanks on what we should be doing next.

***

“Holy shit,” Jinx whispers, awe taking over his voice. “Nothing prepared me for this.”

I return a light squeeze to Simone’s hand as she clenches mine like she wants me to die.

“How prepared are you to get knocked the fuck out?” I snap. “Get your ass back up to this end.”

“It’s amazing how accommodating the female body is.”

“Man, if you don’t stop looking at her—”

“Ahh!” Simone yells.

“On the count of three, bear down and push. We’re almost there,” Dr. Camryn Davison says instead of rolling her eyes at Jinx and me. As Samson’s woman, we’ve all grown really comfortable around each other.

Jinx, finally taking his eyes off Simone’s lower half, grabs her other hand. We hold our breaths in solidarity as she pushes again. Labor has taken longer than we thought it would, and she’s miserable, but no matter how exhausting this process has been, it didn’t stop her from mentioning how that stupid tea worked.

“One more push for the shoulders,” Camryn urges. “That’s it.”

A flurry of activity takes over the serenity of the room, but I keep my eyes on Simone, brushing hair out of her face and telling her how amazing she is. The baby is placed on a sterile towel on her abdomen before his nose is suctioned. He doesn’t cry like we all expect, and Simone begins to worry.

“He’s looking around the room,” I explain. “Just taking his new world in.”

“He could’ve done it sooner,” she jokes, her fingers brushing over the top of his head.

“Who’s cutting the cord?”

I don’t bother to look

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