The Trap (Trapped Prequel)

Chapter 1

Paige

Three weeks ago I peed on a stick. What followed were ten of the most agonizing minutes of my life, before one plus sign turned my whole world upside down and inside out.

Six hundred seconds.

That’s literally how long it took for my life to implode.

You want to know what’s so ironic about this?

Four months ago I became an adult and six months from now I’m going to be a mother. Talk about being plunged into adulthood with a vengeance.

The thing is, as weird as this might sound, I want this baby—Mitch’s baby—more than I ever thought I would under the circumstances.

I mean he’s it for me.

The one.

And I’m pretty sure we’d have come to this at some point. Of course it would have been after we’d both graduated from college and were married.

However, the situation is what it is.  Now I just have to tell him. The thought of which causes the nausea I’ve been suffering the last two weeks to return in rolling waves, heating my face and turning my already queasy stomach. But being sick right now is a luxury I can’t afford.     

I inhale a deep breath, wipe damp palms down the sides of my frayed jean shorts and try to compose my expression into something that doesn’t reflect the dread and terror making mincemeat of my insides.

As I’m mustering up the nerve to knock, the door to Mitch’s apartment flies open and his gorgeous face is the most welcome sight I’ve seen since the last time I laid eyes on him.

Without giving me a chance to do or say anything, he tugs me into his arms. He makes a grumbled sound in his throat and then his mouth is on mine.

Instantly, my fears and gut-churning anxiety fall away. Going up on the balls of my feet, I wrap my arms around his neck and allow my senses to take over. For the moment, I’m more than happy to be led by them.

We haven’t seen each other in what feels like forever. Ten weeks. Phone calls, text messages and skyping can’t compare to this—being able to actually touch him.

There’s a rough urgency to his kiss as our tongues and lips get down to the more serious business of getting reacquainted.

Wild is the only way to describe the way we go at each other, our breaths labored when we can come up for air long enough to take one. The kiss itself is toe-curling hot and I give as good as I get, sucking his full lower lip into my mouth. I know how much that turns him on.

Mitch emits a guttural groan and soon we’re on the move. He practically drags me inside and I vaguely hear the door thump closed behind us.

He breaks the kiss and growls in my ear, “C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom.” At the same time, his hands skim down my sides and then cruise back up to cup my breasts. My super-sensitive, swollen breasts that have grown almost half a cup size in the past month.

A pained gasp escapes me before I can bite it back, and with it, I’m dropped on my head back into reality. My inescapable reality.

Mitch’s head jerks up and back. My fingers have his dark-blond hair in a sexy disarray and his green eyes are still heated from the effects of our kiss as they widen in surprise before immediately narrowing in concern.

“What’s wrong? Was I too rough?” he asks in the same deep baritone that’s been setting me on fire since our sophomore year in high school.

“No,” I croak, trying not to wince. “They’re just a little sore.” To put it mildly.