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Secrets by Heartbroken1

Chapter Sixteen – Oh, Shit!

Bella Swan

A nice hot shower was just what I needed after last night's activities with Anthony. Over the last six weeks, he'd proven to be an adequate lover. Better than adequate, I thought with a giggle.

The man was a professional. He knew exactly which buttons to push, what sensitive skin to caress with his tongue, and exactly how much pressure to use in order to drive a woman senseless. Rubbing the pleasurable ache in my thighs, I leaned over to slide my panties up my legs.

Strong, warm hands gripped me by the hips. "Did you really think you could escape that easily, my love?"

"Like I'd ever try to escape a cock like this." I whirled around and wrapped my hand around his hardened member.

He sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth and closed his eyes. "Oh," he groaned as my fingers tightened and began the slow, torturous stroking. "If you…don't stop…"

"Shh." I put a finger to his lips and smiled. There was no way I would ever tire of the effect my touch had on him. "No talking. You've been very naughty and I'm going to have to punish you." I emphasized the statement by smacking his rock hard ass--hard.

He groaned, a low guttural sound that was absurdly satisfying. His head fell loose on his shoulders.

I tightened my grip and used it to guide him toward the shower. "In. Now."

He complied with a half smile, half cringe on his beautiful face.

Never in a million years would I have thought that I would enjoy dominating a man. Nor could you have convinced me that Anthony Masen, with his strong personality, would submit—to anyone. But to me, he was putty in my hands, to use in any way I wanted. He trusted me, completely, and that was the biggest turn-on of them all.

His strong arms circled around my waist like a vise. He laughed as I gasped. "I'm happy to comply, my love, but I refuse to shower by myself."

I raised a brow. "You refuse? Since when do you get that privilege?"

With one arm securely wrapped around my waist, the other hand worked at the knobs to turn on the water. "There's nothing I love more than when you take control, but right now I want to make love." His lips skimmed lightly over my shoulder, to my neck and back again, nibbling gently on the sensitive skin.

A half groan, half whimper tumbled from my lips as I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles. His hands cupped my ass and positioned me perfectly for what would happen next.

"Damn panties," he groaned against my skin.

With a tug, elastic snapped, and the soggy satin hit the floor. The sound brought me back to reality. The fingers that, at some point I couldn't remember, had wound their way into the hair at the nape of his neck tugged hard.

"Wait," I huffed. "Anthony," I puffed. "Stop," I panted.

His chest was heaving with the deep breaths he was inhaling. "You're killing me, Bella."

I wiggled and slid down his body, standing in front of him. "I'm sorry, but today is my appointment with the gyno. I am not letting him look up there with your stuff up there."

"Oh, come on," he pouted, "I'm sure he's seen stuff before."

"Not with me, buddy!" I ripped the door open and stepped out of the shower. "We'll pick this up later, okay?"

He growled softly, then muttered, "'Kay," under his breath.

"I love you, Anthony."

"Love you, too," he grunted.

*****

Doctor's offices always have an antiseptic feel no matter how many pictures of kids dressed as flowers or animals they slap up on the walls. My reasoning for trudging into Dr. Brandon's office was an easy decision.

The thought of giving birth to Anthony's babies was one that made my stomach fill with an excitement I couldn't even begin to describe. We hadn't been together very long but the topic had already been discussed. He wanted lots of children, and I wanted to be the woman to give them to him—someday.

Anthony was ready for kids now, but I wasn't.

I had a career, a really good one. And although Bella Homes had an in-house childcare, I wasn't ready to take on that kind of responsibility.

"Besides," Anthony had said a few weeks back, his eyes full of mischief, "we're not even married—yet."

"Yet?" It came out as a whisper.

"Patience, my love. I get to decide the when and where of that question."

"As long as I get to decide the when on the question of children."

He searched my face, his knuckles moving lightly over the skin of my cheek. "You do want kids, right Bella? 'Cause I really…"

I hushed his question with my lips, then pulled back and looked into his eyes. They were wide and worried—his question being asked again and again in them. "Yes, baby, I only want one man's children growing in my belly."

"Please say mine."

The desperation in his voice made me laugh—hard. When the giggles subsided, I cupped his face between my hands and kissed him. "Of course yours. Someday."

"Someday…soon? I'm not getting any younger, love."

"Make me your wife first, Don Juan, then we'll talk." He started to bend to one knee and I slammed my eyes shut, jamming my fingers into my ears. "Nanananananana," I sang, not wanting to hear the question I was afraid he might ask. This was not the way I wanted him to pop the question.

"Is anyone sitting here?" a quiet voice brought me out of the memory.

"Um, no, please, sit down," I sputtered, gathering my bag from the chair next to me.

She was a pretty woman with long dark hair and dark eyes that housed the soul of an angel. "Hi, I'm Angela."

"Bella." I extended my hand and she placed the baby seat on the floor, then shook my hand. "Who is this sweet little girl?" I knew the gender was safe since the little cherub had a pink headband squishing her chubby head.

Angela made quick work of the straps and snaps, then pulled the baby into her arms. "This is Isabelle." She kissed Isabel on her cheek.

"Isabelle, really?" I couldn't help but smile. "My name's Isabella."

"How funny," Angela said with an added genuine laugh.

"Is she your only child?"

She placed another kiss on Isabelle's cheek before laying the baby in the crook of her arm. "No, we have twin two-year-old boys."

"Twins? Wow! You must be a very busy woman." I suddenly felt very inferior to this woman sitting next to me.

Isabelle stirred and Angela shifted her before meeting my gaze. "Yes, they do keep me on my toes." She was practically beaming as she talked about her children, and I hoped that I had that same glowing expression when I was a mother. Angela's eyes drifted to my flat stomach, then back to my face. "Are you, um…?"

"Oh," I gasped, my hands flying to my childless womb, "no, I'm not… I'm actually getting an IUD today."

"Sorry." She blushed. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay. I do want kids…someday. And my boyfriend will be a great dad…someday. I'm just not ready." Not wanting to discuss me any longer, I asked the one question I knew would get this mother-of-the-year to shift gears. "Do you have any pictures of your boys?"

She smiled, her whole face lighting up. "Of course. Would you like to see them?"

"Of course."

Swift fingers dug through the giant diaper bag, slash purse, slash carry-on suitcase and pulled out an actual 'Mommy's Brag Book'. I wanted to laugh at this Holly Homemaker, and probably would when I retold the story to Anthony.

"This is Connor." She flipped the page and an identical child stared off the page, smiling. "And this is Seth." Their Bronze hair and green eyes were similar to…Anthony's.

A sickening feeling began to grow in the pit of my stomach as page after page of two boys--that looked just like my lover--flipped to the next. "They're very…" The air flew from my lungs, or simply got stuck there, as Angela paused on another picture. It was one with the boys and their father.

Their father.

Anthony!

Her fingers moved lovingly over the three similar faces, lingering on the eldest, her husband; the father of two miniature versions of himself…Anthony.

"What a beautiful family," I whispered, unsure of which emotion was strongest; pity for her, for myself, or the intense animosity for the snake who'd slithered from my bed this morning. "You have a handsome husband."

"Thank you." She beamed, adoration sparkling in her eyes as she continued to look at Anthony, who was smiling back at her from the picture. "He's such a great dad." She sighed. "I just wish he didn't have to travel so much."

"He travels?" I squeaked.

"Yes. He's a pilot and…" She broke off and closed the album, stuffing it back into her back. "Enough about me, what do you do?"

"Does he…have a brother?" I asked, looking at her bag.

"Edward?" She laughed nervously. "No, he's an only child."

"Oh," came my lame reply. I wasn't sure of what to make of what I'd just learned, just seen. There was no doubt that it was Anthony in that damned picture.

Or was it?

They say that everybody has a non-biological twin out there. This Edward had to be my Anthony's.

Tell me you don't believe that, my thoughts chided.

This poor woman was Anthony's wife, the one I'd replaced. He had given her divorce papers and planned to leave their happy home to play house with me.

And I let him!

Or did I?

There had to be an explanation. Anthony had painted a picture of a nasty woman, who had made his life a living hell. Angela didn't fit any of the definitions he'd given for his ex-wife. Hell, I loved her and had just met her.

All of my arguments were dashed when the door opened and the nurse said, "Angela Masen."

"It was nice to meet you, Bella," she said with a smile that seemed a bit forced. But I was too enthralled with my own emotions to pay much attention to hers.

As the door closed, finally removing Angela Masen from my view, I stood and numbly walked out the door. The sun was high in the sky and I squinted against the glare and searched the lot for my car. What I found was the exact focus of every thought I'd had for the last few, very long, minutes.

Anthony was leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking as gorgeous as ever. He had a smile on his face that only added gasoline to the spark of fury that had been secondary to the hurt.

"Anthony," I growled, "I didn't expect to see you here."

He rushed around and opened the door, dropping a kiss to my cheek. I sunk into the passenger seat, seething. It was either be pissed off or cry. Right now, my anger was the only thing holding me together.

The engine purred to life and Anthony eased into traffic. "Lunch? Are you hungry?"

"Don't you know that getting an IUD hurts like hell?" I hissed over my shoulder, then turned back to the window.

"Oh, sorry. I'll just take you home then."

"It doesn't matter, I didn't get it anyway."

"Did you change your mind?" He asked with all kinds of excited anticipation.

"No!" I shouted, whirling in my seat to glare at him. "You selfish sonofabitch! It's all about what you want, isn't it, Anthony Masen? And it doesn't matter how many people you hurt as long as you get your prize."

His face was a composition of guilt, surprise, and a sorry excuse for innocence. He stopped at a light and I threw the door open and stomped to the bus stop bench where I plopped down and fumed.

I was still furious, but the tears were threatening when two very strong, very familiar hands gripped my shoulders from behind. I wanted nothing more than to melt into his touch, accept his comfort--and his lies.

Angela's face flashed in my mind, as did the sweet faces of her angels; Connor, Seth, and Isabelle.

Isabelle.

"You're a bastard!" I screamed, standing to face him. "Don't touch me. Don't speak to me. Don't even look at me!"

"What the hell…"

"…Is my problem?" I slapped him, and the stinging of my hand felt surprisingly satisfying. "I met your wife today, Anthony--or should I say Edward."

His eyes went wide then slammed shut. He groaned, "Oh, shit."