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I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her back against my chest. The skin beneath my arm is covered in sweat, and I feel the rapid beat of her heart, her chest expanding with her heavy breathing, matching my own.
Once we’ve both caught our breath, I turn her around. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and her cheeks, which still have blood splatter covering them, are red. I hoist her up and she wraps her legs around my waist. I stick my dick back inside her and she lets out a whimper.
“I can’t anymore,” she mumbles like she’s half asleep.
“Yes, you can and you will,” I tell her as I stride to the stairs.
“Shower first.”
That was my intention. I’ll scrub her down to get the shit off her face and then fuck her again under the spray of water. And then, while she’s lying in bed, asleep or not, I’ll fuck her again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
HER
It’s been three days since the attempted robbery at The Bean Shop. I came home with sore ribs and three marks in the shape of fingerprints on my breast. Thankfully, the soreness has mostly worn away.
After the intense fucking against the front door of Ryker’s estate, he carried me upstairs and straight to the shower. I had forgotten about the dried blood on my face until I saw myself in the mirror. A few spots of it were smeared across my cheek, but overall, I looked like I had gained red freckles.
Ryker was at the shower, turning on the water as I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection. When he came up behind me, he noticed the marks that were already forming on my breast and the redness around my ribs. The expression that took over his face wasn’t one I had seen on him before. Even in the coffee shop, the look in his eyes when he walked in the door, which was scary enough, didn’t reflect the all-out rage I saw blazing in his dark-gray gaze. He looked like he was on the vergeof total destruction. Like he wanted to paint the town red with the blood of his enemy.
I almost felt sorry for the guy who got away, because if there was one thing I knew with certainty, it was that Ryker would find him. When that happened, the guy would wish he had died as easily as his friend.
His hands moved around my waist, and he laid both palms on my lower stomach, right over the place where our baby grew. We stayed that way for several moments, his eyes glued to that one spot.
Then he moved us to the shower. As fierce as he took me in the foyer of his house, it was nothing compared to the pounding he gave me under the spray of water. It was painful, rough, and I’m pretty sure I blacked out before he was even finished because one moment I was in the shower, against the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded inside me, and the next, I was waking up as he settled me down onto the mattress. I wasn’t even fully awake before he was taking me again, this time with me on my hands and knees in front of him. I thought this kind of stamina only existed in my books, but apparently, not all things in romance are fictional. Men can last hours and ejaculate multiple times without breaks if they’re motivated enough.
We were barely finished with that round when Dr. Bale showed up at the house. Apparently, Marcelo called the doctor to come check on me at Ryker’s orders. Other than the physical marks left behind, Dr. Bale said me and the baby were fine, but he still wanted me to come into his clinic the next day for an ultrasound. The experience of listening to our baby’s heartbeat and seeing the tiny blip on the screen was surreal and made the reality of my situation more real. I watched the screen with no small amount of awe, and tears sprang to my eyes. Movement at my side pulled me from my amazed stupor. I looked at Ryker, who was standing beside the bed I was lying on, andwas struck dumb again by the look in his eyes. I had never seen his expression so soft, so reverent. It made me realize that maybe Ryker was just as captivated by seeing and hearing the undeniable evidence that we were actually having a baby.
In the present, I’m standing in front of the tall mirror in the corner of our bedroom. I have on a white silk robe with the sash untied so I can take in my form. The bruises on my breast are mostly gone except for three faint yellow dots where the guy’s fingers dug into me. Fortunately, other than the redness on that first day, my ribs never bruised.
I move my gaze down to my lower stomach and rest my hand there. I’ve found myself doing that more and more often. Touching and looking at my stomach. It’s still hard to believe that I’m carrying a child. That a living being is growing inside me. I’m curious what it’ll feel like when it starts to move. Dr. Bale told us that I should feel the baby move between four and six months. According to the doctor’s calculations, I’m six weeks along, so I’ve got a ways to go before that happens.
There’s a light tapping on the door, and I turn from the mirror to go answer it, tying my robe closed.
I’m surprised but pleased to find Emersyn in the hallway.
I snatch her arm and tug her forward for a tight hug. We’ve talked on the phone and video chatted since the coffee shop, but I haven’t seen her in person since then.
“What are you doing here?” I ask after we break apart.
“I gave Ryker no choice but to let me come over to help you prepare for your big day.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, and pull her into the room so I can close the door. I lead her over to the leather sofa that’s sitting in front of the fireplace.
“How are you feeling?”
I’ve already asked this question multiple times over the last few days, and her reply is always the same. “I’m fine.” I can’tsee the bruise on her cheek, but I know it’s there underneath the cake of makeup she applied. I hate that she was hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. Although she insists she’s okay, I know the experience must have been terrifying.
She grabs my hand and brings it to her lap. “I promise, I truly am okay,” she says. “Stop worrying about me. Today is about you. How areyou?”
“First, I’ll never stop worrying about you when stuff like that happens. I’m sorry, but it comes with our friendship. And second, I would not consider being forced to marry a man as my ‘big day.’”
“Well, whether it’s a day to celebrate or a day to mourn, you’re still getting married.” She lets my hand go and gets up, walking over to the dress bag hanging from a hanger on the outside of the closet. “And I’m going to make sure you look fucking fabulous. Now, let’s see how good Ryker’s tastes are.”
I laugh and get up to follow her. “I haven’t even looked at it yet.”
“Then we’ll be surprised together.”