Pregnant Too Young Daddy Is A Billionaire Jock

I’m afraid of most men.

I haven’t told anyone, and I’m not seeing a therapist about it, but it all started after I was raped. Of course, no one knows about that either. I’m scared no one would believe me.

Especially since I’m not beautiful, tall, or attractive.

I’m a short little book nerd brunette. An introverted nobody, and it was a famous football player on campus who forced himself on me.

Why did he do that?

Why me?

Those exact thoughts are why I keep it a secret.

No one would believe me if I said Thomas Hennington pushed me into the wall and forced his junk inside me.

Thinking about it makes me sick to the stomach.

It happened during my first frat party before any classes had started. Thomas was drunk, but that is not an excuse.

What he did was wrong.

Yet I feel guilty that I was there.

It feels like everything is my fault.

Sometimes it makes me want to cry.

But no one would believe me if I told them what Thomas did.

Therefore, I keep my mouth shut and try not to think about it. I’m not wealthy enough to see a therapist, and I will be fine. I can handle this. There is worse stuff happening in this world.

I’m not pregnant—I checked.

And my fear of men is a phase that will pass.

Despite the mess inside my head, I silently tap away on my laptop inside the library.

Since its the first year of college, our professor wanted us to bond and make new friends. He grouped us two-and-two to make a presentation together, but my partner wasn’t there.

I actually consider myself lucky because I’m supposed to be working with a guy—Maddox Daniels. And although all the girls squealed, I didn’t want to be paired with a guy.

Maddox Daniels sounds like a super scary name too.

And all the girls called him hot.

Sexy.

One girl sighed and fought the professor to switch partners with me; what the heck was that all about?

Girls are weird…

Yawning, I take a deep breath and stand up from my chair.

I’m getting hungry and should leave the library. I live with two other girls in a tiny apartment. They usually eat my food, but there might be something left.

I roll my shoulders and reach for my laptop. But before I can grab it and get out of here, heavy footfalls approach me.

“Hey, you!”

I slowly turn around and freeze.

Holy shit.

Who is that?

Anxiety churns in my stomach when I lift my chin.

An insanely colossal guy is heading in my direction. A grey hoodie hugs his muscular arms, and I’m forced to lift my chin to meet his irritated eyes; that’s how tall he is.

Judging by his ripped body type, he must be into sports. Football or wrestling? A lineman? Hard to tell, but it must be a position that requires height. I would guess he is six-foot-five, or possibly six-foot-six.

Regardless, he is intimidating and handsome. Enough to make me forget how to function. I just stand there like a fool, staring at him while my IQ rapidly drops to zero.

a

sure I’m gaping like a goldfish when the broody guy crosses his arms over his mighty chest. “You’re Michelle Henriksson,

Deep, authoritative voice.

gulp and

into mine, and he takes a

The fabric of his hoodie almost brushes against me. He obviously lacks respect for

Scary.

table wasn’t behind me,

library…” the

continue to

chest is ridiculously broad, and the surrounding air screams

be the most

you listening

I’m checking

said he gave you my number—why didn’t you text or call

“Uhhh…?”

table. Having him so close makes

mouth, but

closer. He seems to be checking my eyes, and I hold my

nervous about making a move. Too damn

“Are you on drugs?”

I shake my head.

haven’t

“C-called?” I stammer.

supposed to work

Work together?

“I’m…”

a normal person! No one is going

I gulp.

are prickling behind my eyelids already, and my tongue

mistake me for

But

words make him drop his arms from his chest. He sighs and takes a step back to leave

shocked by his size. What do

He is huge.

a “he might be a serial

watch him slowly walk away from me to pull out a chair and sit by the

lips move.

harder, unsure what to say or do. “Are

lower lip, the guy glares at me with anger ticking against

have any

I shake my head.

is a fucking poster of me hanging on the

shake my head

hell…” He rakes his hand through his sandy hair, shaking his head like I’m the weirdo. “I’m Maddox Daniels, your project partner. Now, do you

I’m just…

Especially around Maddox Daniels.

Wait.

does he have a poster on the campus

I should

I

afford to fail this class,” Maddox is eyeing my laptop like a predator. “What do you have so

seat. I’m shaking, yet I somehow find my voice.

eyes and grabs the side of my screen.

“Hmmm…” Maddox hums.

root me to the spot. I’m not sure what

to make a presentation about Sweden when you could choose any goddamn country in

“Uhhh…”

screen, sizing me up. “Wow, even the most innocent-looking girls are fucking predators. Don’t judge a book by its cover. You can’t trust

a cliff into the water in one of

writing

are writing about

hairline, but the relentless, unfriendly expression returns a second

that—I can see the

I get the feeling

“Good…”