Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

prepared for it, least of all Ransom.
    We would find out soon. Tomorrow.
    Our cozy little threesome had become a foursome.
     
     
     

    John dragged in at almost one A.M., eyes so sunken, and bruises under them so deep, I would have sworn he’d been in a fistfight.
    He loped into the kitchen, where I happened to be standing at the time, pouring myself a (second) big glass of post-baby-birthing-wine. The first glass hadn’t totally obliterated the trauma, so of course I’d opted for another.
    But instead of guzzling it down, I handed it to the exhausted new father.
    His eyes told me exactly how grateful he was for it. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he pounded the wine like a frat boy. When the last drop was gone, he licked his lips and eyed the bottle.
    “Be my guest. You deserve some celebrating tonight.” I tried, with as steady a hand as possible, to refill his glass. Then, aware John was watching me, waiting for me to join him, I grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet, filled it and lifted it to make a toast. “To you, Ransom, and John Junior’s health and happiness.”
    He said nothing, just clinked his glass against mine and emptied it as quickly as he had the first.
    After two more, I asked him, “Is something wrong?”
    He shook his head. “Nope. Not a thing. What could be wrong? My wife just had a baby. Named her Johnette. I didn’t want to be one of those parents, the ones that give their kid a ridiculous name. But whatever. Both Ransom and Johnette are healthy. We’re happy. Everything is perfect.”
    “Okay.” He was lying about the perfect thing, of course. I knew it. Why else would he be trying to drown himself in cheap wine? But I was a little buzzed and knew now was not the time to prod. So I handed the bottle to him and pointed at the ceiling, which was swaying slightly. “Johnette is a pretty name. Good choice. I’ve had enough wine. Going to bed. G’night.”
    “Yeah. Night.”
    I bounced into a wall once or twice on the way up to my room and flopped onto my bed. Oh, hell, it was hot. My stomach rolled like a ship being tossed by a tsunami.
    Tonight I would have to sleep nude. Either that or die from heat stroke.
    I stripped down to my birthday suit, turned on the box fan stuffed in the window, and closed my eyes. The bed spun then bounced, seeming to tip to one side. I lifted one eyelid.
    Okay, the mattress’ dip wasn’t the result of bed spins. Someone had joined me.
    I grabbed the sheet and ripped it up to cover myself. “What the fuck?” I shrieked.
    My visitor, John, blinked pleading eyes at me. “I’ve fucked up.”
    “Yes, you have. What are you doing?”
    “I mean, I’ve fucked up with Ransom,” he said, words slurred more than a little. “I don’t love her. I never loved her. I love you.” He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away.
    “Oh no. Nonononono.” I skittered backward, crab-walking away from the drunken man on my bed. “You can’t do this to her. I thought you were in love!”
    He crawled on all fours toward me, cornering me at the head of the bed when I ran into the headboard. “When Ransom told me about the baby, I felt I needed to do the right thing. But I’ve been so fucking miserable since I moved in. You have no idea. I hate my life.”
    “Tough shit.” I smacked a pillow over myself, clasping it against my chest. “You can’t do this. Ransom is counting on you. And so is that baby. That innocent little baby, John Junior—erm, Johnette.”
    He jammed his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. I know. The baby. What am I going to do? I can’t stay here with her. Not another week, let alone eighteen fucking years. We’re too different, Ransom and me. We don’t get along.”
    “You got along well enough to produce a baby,” I pointed out as I planted my feet against his body, holding him back. “So you’d better figure out how to get along well enough to raise it.”
    “There’s