Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “Don’t stop. Please.”
He slides into me slowly. Carefully. Each inch sends a wave of heat through me until he is fully inside, filling me, stretching me, grounding me. He pauses there, forehead pressed to mine, breath shaking.
“You feel incredible,” he murmurs.
He begins to move, slowly at first, with deep, rhythmic thrusts that drive me insane. I arch into him, clinging to his shoulders, feeling every inch of him, every pulse of pleasure that builds and builds.
He keeps kissing me the entire time, long and deep and consuming, until the world falls away. When I come again, he follows, pulsing inside me with a low groan that vibrates through my entire body. He collapses gently, bracing himself so he doesn’t crush me, breathing hard against my shoulder.
For a long moment, we lie tangled together, skin slick, breath uneven, hearts racing in the same rhythm. I close my eyes and let myself feel everything. The warmth, the safety, and the terrifying, impossible sense that this man is somehow becoming part of me.
And all the while, the secret rests under my heart, small and silent. A tiny heartbeat I will protect with everything in me.
Even from him.
Especially from him.
11
SAMUIL
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the heat of her body pressed against me. Her breath is soft against my shoulder, and her hair is spread over my chest like dark silk.
I savor it, letting it stretch out, feeling a deep sense of contentment settle over me. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m whole, but I never realized I was missing a part of me. Now, the most precious part lives outside my body and needs protecting.
My body feels refreshed and alive. Even before I’ve fully opened my eyes, I can feel how energized I am.
Finally, I open my eyes slowly, forcing myself to wake up. The light in the room is dim, the sun blocked by my heavy blackout curtains. The sheets smell like her. I breathe deeply, letting the scent fill my lungs, memorizing it for the future. I want to bottle this smell and somehow capture the feeling of her warm skin pressed against mine. It’s a moment I could stay in forever.
But eventually the bed moves.
I feel her weight shift, and she inhales quietly. I hear a soft pop as she stretches. The mattress dips slightly when she sits up, and when I turn my gaze to her, she’s kneeling beside me.
Her hair is tousled from sleep, her cheeks still flushed from last night, and the shirt I gave her hangs off one shoulder in a way that exposes the delicate line of her collarbone. She looks soft and hopeful and nervous all at once. Her eyes are bright and anxious.
She has something in her hands, and I see the storm brewing behind her eyes as she debates whether she wants to show me. I push up slowly, bracing myself on my elbows, studying her face before I look at her hands.
“What is it, Molly?” I ask quietly.
It’s the softness in her eyes that tightens something in my chest. Something that is equal parts fear and wonder. She bites her lower lip, searching my face like she’s afraid of what she might find there.
“I wanted to tell you something,” she says. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “And I thought, after last night, now might be the best time.”
The pill bottle trembles slightly in her hand when she lifts it.
“I wanted to explain why I haven’t been drinking,” she continues. “The medicine I said I was on, it wasn’t really medicine.”
She places the bottle in my palm. I take a second to read the words on the label, then another. It takes several more heartbeats to finally absorb what it says: Prenatal vitamins.
The room goes still. The earth stops spinning on its axis. For a long moment, I don’t breathe. I only stare at the bottle, at the little soft gel capsules inside, at her small hand resting on my wrist, waiting for me to comprehend what she’s saying.
It takes a moment for it to land. The realization strikes me like a lightning bolt, hot and bright and absolute. I inhale sharply, the breath cutting through me, because I know exactly what she’s telling me. My heartbeat stumbles, then begins to pound hard against my ribs.
I lift my eyes to hers. “Molly,” I whisper, but the word breaks halfway out of my throat.
She swallows hard, tears shimmering along her lashes. She’s waiting for me to reject her, for me to pull away and tell her I don’t want this. She’s waiting for me to be the monster she thinks I am.
Instead, I reach for her face with hands that suddenly feel unsteady.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask reverently.