Chapter 16: Public Risks Explode

The two-pack pregnancy tests burned a hole through my purse like live coals as I clutched the steering wheel, the plastic bag crinkling every time the truck hit a pothole. I’d bought them at the pharmacy on the way home from the client meeting—another glowing review, the final payment wired, the freelance nightmare officially over with enough cushion to breathe for months. But none of that quieted the deeper terror low in my belly where Derek’s loads had been collecting for weeks, each one thicker and more insistent than the last. The lines on the hidden stick from days ago had faded in my mind into something sharper, more real. I needed certainty tonight, even if it meant hiding the evidence in the back of the linen closet again.

Ethan lounged on the couch inside, controller in hand, calling out through the open window as I pulled into the driveway. “Mom, the new update just dropped—come check this out when you’re done unloading!” His voice carried that same easy warmth, the kind that always twisted the knife deeper because he meant every bit of it. I waved back, forcing a smile, while Derek’s text lit up my phone: Back seat. Now. He’s inside waiting. Don’t make me come get you.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The truck sat idling in the driveway, tinted windows already fogging from the humid evening air. Ethan was literally twenty feet away through the screen door, headphones half-on, laughing at whatever streamed on the TV. I slipped into the back seat anyway, sundress riding high as I climbed over the center console. Derek was already bare from the waist down, thick and ready, the cab thick with the sharp scent of his post-practice sweat and the faint leather of the seats.

I didn’t hesitate. Straddling him in reverse cowgirl, facing the foggy rear window that looked straight toward the house, I sank down in one slick glide. The stretch stole the air from my lungs—raw, deep, the angle letting every ridge drag perfectly while my ass settled heavy against his hips. My hands braced on the headrests, hips rolling in tight circles that made the truck rock ever so slightly on its shocks. Each downward bounce sent wet sounds echoing in the confined space, my bare cheeks rippling under his gripping palms. The risk was suffocating and intoxicating all at once—Ethan could glance out any second and see the truck gently swaying, the fogged glass hiding just enough to make my pulse thunder between my legs.