Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Oh, this is gonna be fun.
I’m at war within myself, trying to figure out which is more important right now: staying completely still so I don’t vomit again, or going to the bathroom so I don’t explode. And if I do move, I’m afraid I’ll wake Lyam up. I don’t want to.
I like it when he actually sleeps. And I don’t want to fight with him anymore.
I remind myself I should hate him.
The need to use the bathroom wins. I move as slowly as I can, but soon realize moving means I need to extricate myself from his arm around my waist.
Oops.
I lift his arm.
His very big, very heavy, tattooed, and muscular arm.
How can I be thinking of sex at a time like this?
But of course the second I manage to get out of bed, I wake him.
“Going somewhere?”
Shit.
“Ladies’ room. Were you actually sleeping?”
“I took a nap, yeah.”
I wonder how long he’s been here.
We don’t speak again, yet I’m trembling when I reach the bathroom door. I open it, shut the door wishing there was a lock, and do my business. I stay in here a little longer than necessary because I don’t want to face him, not like this.
I splash water on my face and brush my teeth, but the taste of the toothpaste does me in. Nausea roils through me like bubbling lava. I fight it, but the nausea wins.
Soon, I’m on my knees, emptying my stomach.
Great.
But this time, I’m not alone. I can feel him behind me.
“No, Lyam,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Too late.”
I feel his hands at my neck, lifting my hair, when the nausea hits me again.
If I wasn’t horrified by the idea of what he’s seeing or embarrassed to be found like this, I’d think it was almost romantic.
But we’re not there.
When I’m finally done, I rest my head in my hands. Exhausted. I make it to the sink with his help and rinse my mouth. I splash cold water on my face and my clammy neck, then lean against the sink for support. When I turn to go back to bed, I face the wall of his chest.
Wordlessly, he lifts me.
I tense in his arms and open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head.
“If what you’re telling me is the truth, I’ve got a duty to honor that. If you’re carrying my baby, I’ll have to be gentler on you. I won’t let you go, but while you’re pregnant and in my possession, I’ll have to take care of you.”
In my possession.
I’m… in his possession?
I don’t want to be. I want to be free. I want to be alone.
I don’t trust him any more than he trusts me.
Though given how this started, I won’t complain if he’s trying to be gentle. “How long does this last?” he asks, when I’m sliding back into bed.
I look at him in surprise. “Nine months.” He doesn’t know this basic fact?
“No, God,” he says, and I swear I almost see him smile. “I’m not that much of an idiot. The nauseous part. How long are you nauseous?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. I’ve never been pregnant before. I guess a few weeks or something? But it varies based on the woman.”
“Right.”
Tired and weak, I blink at him while he paces in front of me. He’s wearing nothing but boxers and a tee that’s molded to his perfect physique.
I forgot how gorgeous he was.
He’s stunning when he’s dressed in a suit with a crisp white dress shirt, but the casual look highlights every casually masculine detail that makes my heart beat faster.
When there’s a knock at the door, he turns to answer it, murmurs under his breath, then comes back with a cup of something steamy that smells like mint. “My staff found this for you.” I take a sip, pleased my belly’s beginning to settle a little bit.
“You’re still my prisoner,” he says, as if to remind me that he’s not going to go too easy on me.
I sigh wearily and lean my head back against the pillow. “We’ve established that.”
“And soon we’ll find out if I’m the father.”
I smile wanly. “No. You will. Unless I was abducted by aliens and impregnated in my sleep, I already know the answer to that question.”
How will he react when he knows the truth? He’s possessive but furious.
A knock sounds at the door.
“That will be breakfast. Get under those fucking covers so they don’t see you.” I smirk to myself when I look down and see I’m wearing a tank and shorts.
“Sure thing.” I slide back under the covers and pull them up to my chin. When he opens the door, my mouth waters at the smell of freshly baked bread.
The room’s so small, I can hear every word he says. “Did you hear anything about what happened last night?”