Make Me Yours. Katee Robert

at all.

      But Becka had spent all her adult life fighting to stand on her own. She wasn’t about to compromise that now for a man who was essentially a stranger. She lifted her chin. “Easy for you to say. I’m the one incubating the kid, and I’m going to be the one solely responsible for its needs.”

      “In this...apartment.” The way he said the last word translated to hovel.

      She glared. “There’s nothing wrong with my apartment.”

      “You have a hole in your wall.” He stalked around her kitchen. “Water damage on the floor.” The living room. “The rugs are worn down to nothing.” Aaron almost sounded like he was talking to himself instead of her. “If you don’t have money to repair this place, you sure as fuck don’t have money to give our baby everything he or she needs.”

      She wanted to tell him she didn’t need him at all, that she’d find a way, but the hard reality was that Aaron had money and Becka didn’t. She made a comfortable living for herself, but she didn’t need much to get by in the grand scheme of things.

      A baby changed that.

      She turned away and wrapped her arms around herself. You can compromise. Try it—just this once. “I’m willing to negotiate some kind of...child support or something. If that’s something you’re comfortable with.” She wasn’t comfortable with it, but she’d suck up her pride and get over herself if it meant he could help her meet the baby’s needs.

      “No.”

      Becka turned back to find Aaron shaking his head and doing another circuit around her apartment. “What?”

      “I said, no.” He poked the threadbare pillow on the couch. “You can’t live like this while you’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be living like this right now.”

      “Excuse me?” Anger flared through her, and she welcomed it with open arms. Easier to be angry than to be scared, easier to fight than to admit she was in over her head and didn’t know what she was going to do. “There’s nothing wrong with my apartment.”

      “The list of everything wrong with this place is longer than we have time for. Pack your bags. We’re leaving.”

      Her jaw dropped. “You’re crazy.”

      “No, you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let the mother of my future child live in these conditions when I have a perfectly adequate apartment that will fit both of us and the baby without crowding.” He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “I have a spare room, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t expect you to be in my bed.”

      The top of her head damn near exploded. “No.”

      “Wrong answer.”

      She sputtered. “You can’t just decide to move me in with you. That’s not how any of this works.”

      Aaron stalked to the fridge and opened it. He barked out a laugh. “I suspected as much. There isn’t even fucking food in your fridge.” He turned and glared. “Let me lay it out for you—you have two options.”

      “I choose the option where you get the hell out of my life.”

      “That’s not on the list.” If anything, her anger only made him calmer, icier. He nodded at the door leading into her bedroom. “You can walk in there, pack your shit and come with me to my place. You’ll settle in. It will take some adjusting, but it’s doable.” He shrugged. “Or I can call your sister and brother-in-law—and Roman and Allie, since they have a vested interest in your well-being—and we can all have a sit-down about your current living conditions and how you’re rejecting a perfectly reasonable plan out of hand.”

       Checkmate.

      She could actually hear the cage click into place around her. Becka didn’t have a chance in hell of winning that argument with all the parties involved. Allie would be sympathetic to her plight, but Lucy would offer a secondary option of moving in with her. Both Gideon and Roman would go into protective older brother roles and, no matter which way they fell on the argument, Becka wouldn’t come out on top. She didn’t stand a chance.

      She snarled. “That’s blackmail.”

      “It’s called skillful negotiation. You should try it sometime.”

      I will not punch my baby daddy. I will not just chop him in his stupidly attractive throat.

      She counted to ten, but it did nothing to lower her blood pressure. There had to be a way out of this. Aaron was obviously only steamrolling her because he had an honorable streak that apparently demanded he borderline kidnap her. Okay, maybe not that honorable. She just needed to buy some time, to get a little distance to figure out what she wanted.

      It was the one thing Becka couldn’t pin down.

      She knew she wanted the baby. The rest was terrifyingly hazy.

      She gritted her teeth. “I’ll consider it.”

      He stared at her so long, she just knew he was weighing his options—including throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her ass back to his place. Finally, Aaron nodded. “You have until tomorrow.”

       “Tomorrow?”

      “At that point, I’m coming back here. Whether I come back alone or with Roman and Gideon in tow is entirely up to you.” He strode to the door and paused to look over his shoulder at her. “Don’t let stubbornness get in the way of what’s best for the baby.” He was gone before she could give in to the impulse to throw something at his head.

      Becka stumbled over to her ugly green couch and sank onto it. She let her head fall to her hands and spit out every single curse she knew. It didn’t make her feel better. She wasn’t sure anything could make her feel better at this point.

      “I am so freaking screwed.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

      “OKAY, LET ME see if I have this straight—you’re pregnant.”

      Becka didn’t lift her face from the pillow. Maybe if she concentrated, her couch would swallow her whole and she wouldn’t have to deal with this mess anymore. She’d called Allie in desperation, but confessing the truth had taken the last of her energy and now all she wanted was to curl up in a ball and wait for this to blow over. Fat chance of that happening.

      Allie’s footsteps echoed through the apartment. “You’re pregnant,” she repeated. “Okay, right. Pregnant.”

      “You said that already. Three times.”

      “Right. And it’s Aaron Livingston’s. And Aaron wants you to move in with him for, what, the duration of the pregnancy? Or are you supposed to live there forever?”

      She groaned and pressed her face harder into the pillow. “He didn’t specify.”

      “Because you kicked him out after yelling at him that you’d live with him over your dead body.”

      Becka frowned and lifted her head. Allie stood across the small living room, her hands on her hips. She looked like some kind of plus-size superhero on her day off, her blond hair windblown and her black leggings and fitted sweater comfortable and stylish. But it was the contemplative look on her face that sent alarm bells pealing through Becka’s head. “You don’t sound angry and self-righteous. Why don’t you sound angry and self-righteous? You should be angry and self-righteous.”

      “Unpopular opinion—but Aaron Livingston isn’t a total monster.”

      She rolled onto her back and flung her arm over her eyes. “That lack of monstrosity really commends him to be my baby daddy.”

      “Becka,