Pregnant With The Douchebag Jock novel Chapter 10

**The Killer Who Left No Footprints by Natalie Ford**
**Chapter 10**

**Ellie**

A peculiar flutter dances in my chest, a strange blend of excitement and disbelief. All I crave is to keep kissing Maddoc, to linger in this unexpected bubble of warmth and exhilarating adrenaline. This kiss—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Maddoc could easily be the quintessential fictional boyfriend; he’s an expert kisser, and let’s be honest, he looks like he stepped straight out of a movie. A movie star, albeit one who seems royally irritated, but still.

I part my lips once more, silently pleading for another kiss.

Instead, Maddoc gently lowers me to the ground, and an overwhelming wave of disappointment crashes over me.

Of course, this charade is merely for show. It carries no real significance.

I attempt to push down the ache in my chest, and it dulls slightly when he wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin atop my head. This is all a performance to convince his parents—or parent, as it turns out—that we’re hopelessly in love, yet I can’t deny that I relish the sensation of his embrace.

His toned abs press firmly against my back, radiating strength and warmth. The way his muscular arms tighten around my waist feels incredible. We probably look utterly ridiculous together. Maddoc towers over me by a considerable margin, and I can only imagine how awkward he must feel, practically folded in half to make this moment romantic. But honestly, it only makes my heart race faster.

I adore the height difference.

And the tenderness in his touch.

Maddoc’s fingers weave through my hair, and I shiver, sensing a soft chuckle escape his lips, as if he finds amusement in how easily he can affect me.

Being the cocky guy who revels in control, he continues to run his fingers through my strands. I can’t help but melt as his fingertips brush my scalp. His skin is rough and calloused, yet his touch remains gentle—intimate. It feels real. It sends a flurry of butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

But it’s all a facade.

We’re merely putting on a show for his parents. I glance up at him, blinking, and Maddoc tilts his head, his intense gaze locking onto mine with an unwavering focus.

“It’s just my mom. Dad must’ve wandered off to the car or something,” he murmurs. “She’s coming this way now. Her name’s Catharina, but everyone calls her Cath.”

My voice emerges low and breathy. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

He raises an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Thanks for the heads-up? You sound like a receptionist.”

My cheeks flush crimson. “Right now, I’m a professional actress.”

He pauses, a smirk playing on his lips. His large hands continue to lazily comb through my hair before he lowers his voice, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So, was that kiss just part of the act?”

My heart races, pounding against my ribs. He’s scrutinizing me as if I’m a puzzle he’s determined to solve. All I can see is him. All I can hear is him. All I can feel is him.

I try to steady my breath, to maintain a semblance of normalcy. “What else could it have been?”

His dimple flashes in a playful smile. “You tell me.” Then, nodding toward the approaching figure, he adds, “Anyway, here comes my mom.”

I straighten up, bracing myself for the impending performance. I draw in a deep breath, hoping it will cloak me like armor. It doesn’t.

“Maddoc! There you are, honey!”

A tall, elegant blonde strides toward us, her movements reminiscent of a runway model. She’s stunning, poised—a living embodiment of a skincare advertisement. Her heels click authoritatively against the pavement, and her perfectly styled hair remains unruffled by the gentle breeze. She probably uses toner made from unicorn tears.

Then Catharina’s gaze lands on me.

She scans me slowly, disapprovingly—from head to toe and back again. Her nose lifts slightly, and her posture stiffens, chin angled like an aristocrat’s. Vogue cover material. That icy stare, combined with her flawless stance, screams upper-class disdain.

In that moment, I become painfully aware of my thrifted jacket, its imperfect fit. My shoes are scuffed, and my hair likely still carries the scent of cheap shampoo.

“Oh, and who might this cute little girl be? A friend?”

“Cute. Little. Girl.” The way she says it makes me want to vanish into a hoodie forever. Her tone drips with condescension, as if she’s patting me on the head with her voice.

Before I can explode with indignation, Maddoc steps in. “This is Ellie.”

He wraps an arm around me again, fingers threading through my hair with a protective ease. “She’s my girlfriend. And please don’t call her a little girl just because she’s short.”

Wait, what?!

Did he just defend me? In front of his mother?

Cath blinks, clearly taken aback by her son’s unexpected boldness. “I… I see. But… you were supposed to marry Vanya.”

There it is—the judgment. She looks at me like I’m a cheap knockoff from a thrift store.

But Maddoc stands his ground, not flinching. “You know as well as I do that true love matters. Ellie’s the only girl for me.”

My lips twitch. The tone he’s using sounds like a soap opera villain trying to play Prince Charming. It’s almost comical, especially since Maddoc is the last person I’d ever label as romantic. If I weren’t pretending we were in love, I might burst out laughing.

His mother’s expression shifts to skepticism, then she forces a twitchy smile. “Well… I’ll respect your decision. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ellie.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Daniels.” I give a small bow, and to my surprise, her eyes widen as if I just performed a magic trick.

She’s impressed by simple manners? Seriously, what kind of girls has Maddoc been dating?

They must have been dreadful, because Mrs. Daniels continues to stare at me like I’m some rare creature. I swear I see her nostrils flare at my thrifted coat, as if she can smell the absence of a designer label.

“My husband and I are heading to dinner,” she finally says to Maddoc. “You’ll be celebrating with friends, I assume?”

“There’s a frat party,” Maddoc replies, “but I’m taking Ellie to dinner. Somewhere nice.”

He is?

Her smile stiffens, a hint of disapproval creeping into her features. “Well. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

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