Page 27

Chapter twenty-seven

Patrick

I love you, Lev.

I love you too, El.

??

She fucking lied.

She sat there with those wide, guilty eyes and told me she wasn’t texting him. Blinked at me and went all quiet like butter wouldn’t melt. Even though they were right fucking there.

I didn’t want to be that guy but the second I walked into the room, I knew. I just fucking knew. And I was right .

My jaw pins tight and my chest’s heaving so hard I’m about to start hyperventilating.

I start pacing.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

She doesn’t love Elliot. She doesn’t. She loves me . She loves our baby. Our family. We built this— I built this.

Did she ever mean it when she said she loved me? Or was that just something she said because it felt good in the moment and now she’s too deep into it? Or was it something soft to soothe me, to keep the peace?

Was this whole thing just temporary for her? Some break from the rest of her life? Some warm little daydream before she woke up and ran?

What if she leaves? What if once the snow clears, she goes straight to him? Straight back into his arms like this never meant anything at all?

What if he worms himself all the way back in? Says all the right things, plays the victim, convinces her to forgive him, to let him take care of her, like I wouldn’t burn the fucking world down to do that myself?

She said she loves me…

Liar.

She’s mine. She’s MINE.

No. No. She isn’t a liar. He’s a fucking manipulator. He’s poisonous. Evil in every sense of the word.

My fists clench at my sides. My whole body’s tight, straining under the weight of it. The weight of her. The weight of everything.

An unrecognisable, ugly sound rips out of me and I launch the phone across the room. Not hard enough to break it, but hard enough that it smacks against the wall with a loud thump like it knows how much bullshit it’s holding onto too.

I’m so scared.

I’m so fucking scared.

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose our baby. I can’t lose this life—this chance—this shot at fixing everything.

I won’t survive it. I know I won’t.

The days between finding out she’s pregnant and now have been blissful.

Just soft, quiet stretches of time where everything feels like it’s exactly where it should be.

And she doesn’t even know why.

It’s just me, carrying this secret like it’s made of gold.

Our baby.

Growing inside her.

And she has no idea.

I’ve been crushing the prenatals and the Dramamine into her food, stirring it into sauces, slipping it between spoonfuls. And she’s miraculously feeling better. Laughing properly. Sleeping soundly. Eating full meals.

I talk to her stomach when she’s asleep—soft promises and I love you’s.

I rub her belly constantly. Just to feel closer. Just to be near.

It’s so fucking precious.

This intimate window in time. Just the three of us.

Our tiny, secret family.

And it can’t be ruined.

It won’t be ripped away by some clingy little parasite who only wants her when she’s slipping out of his reach. Who only knows how to take up space and feed off her attention like he’s earned it. Like he deserves it.

He doesn’t.

He never has.

She needs to know she’s pregnant. She has to know.

I just… I don’t know how to help her figure it out.

She thinks she’s still on the pill and we’ve still been using condoms. She has no reason to second guess anything.

She hasn’t noticed the way her belly’s changing, right beneath her navel. Or how her nipples are darker now. How her breasts are heavier in my hands.

How she’s so unbelievably sensitive, it only takes a few touches before she’s gasping and arching under me.

I’m still pacing back and forth, pretty sure I’m about to wear a hole straight through the fucking floor.

My hands won’t stop dragging through my hair, tugging harder each time like that’ll shake the panic out of my skull.

Because what the hell am I supposed to say?

“Oh hey, baby. You feeling pregnant at all?”

Yeah. Great idea, Patrick. Real subtle.

She’d look at me like I’d lost my goddamn mind. She’d ask questions I couldn’t answer. Then it’d all be over.

No.

I need her to figure it out on her own. Naturally. Gently.

Like it was always meant to happen this way.

Because once she knows, she won’t leave. She can’t leave.

She’ll have her family and she won’t give two fucks about Elliot or his pathetic little mind games.

She’ll stay right here, where she belongs.

With me. With us .

Me, her, our baby, and our whole damn future.

She’ll be fixing things, fixing the cracks, making it all whole again.

My family. My future. My fucking life.

No, no, no.

My breath’s coming too hot, too loud, too fast.

Fire flashes through my veins.

She can’t leave me. She can’t. She can’t. She ca—

“Patrick?”

I whip around.

Levana’s stood in the bedroom doorway in nothing but a towel, hair wet and sticking to her shoulders, skin still flushed from the heat, steam clinging to her like mist.

Her eyes flick to me, then down to where her phone lies on the floor, face down by the dresser.

“Patrick,” she says slowly. “What the fuck?”

She moves to grab it.

“Don’t you dare,” I snap.

She freezes, and I take a step forward. She doesn’t back away, but her jaw tightens.

“Do you love me?” My voice comes out rough. “Just—tell me.”

She blinks, thrown. “Patrick, of course I do—”

I step forward again and my hand snaps out, gripping her jaw, fingers digging in just enough to make sure she hears me. “Tell me you fucking love me.”

Her eyes go wide. “I—I love you.”

I press her back until she hits the wall.

“Again.”

“I love you, Patrick.”

“Louder.”

“I love you.”

It’s still not enough. It’ll never be enough.

I press my forehead to hers.“Tell me you won’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she whispers.

I shake my head, jaw clenched. “Say it like you mean it.”

Her hands fist in my shirt. “I won’t leave you. I won’t ever leave you.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

My grip tightens just a little. “Tell me you don’t love Elliot.”

Her eyes flash with something, but her voice is steady. “I don’t love Elliot.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” she says quickly. “It’s just something you say to your friends. I promise you, I don’t love him.”

My stomach’s in knots, my grip still on her jaw. “Then why would you say it?”

Her eyes are pleading now. “Because I feel sorry for him, Patrick.”

My muscles seize.

She pushes on. “Did you even see the rest of his texts? He’s desperate. That’s all it is. He wants something he can’t have.”

My nostrils flare. I did see them. But I couldn’t get past that one message. That one line. Her words.

“I promise, okay?” she says, smoothing her hand over my chest. “What can I do to prove it to you?”

Her voice is low now, a little breathless, and when she bites her lip, it’s almost cruel, because she knows exactly what she’s doing.

And maybe that should piss me off.

But it doesn’t.

It undoes me.

“Fucking marry me, Levana.”

She laughs, like she thinks I’m playing. “That’s not funny.”

I grab her wrist and press her palm flat over my heart. “I’m not fucking joking.”

Her breath catches, then she tilts her head, lashes low. “How about something else?”

She lets the towel slip from her body and it hits the floor with a soft thud.

I just stare—because how could I not?

The full weight of her breasts, nipples dark and tight from the cold. The faint, delicate curve of her belly, wet strands of auburn hair clinging to her skin, framing the picture like something out of a dream I don’t deserve.

“Fucking beautiful.”

My legs give out and I’m on my knees in front of her.

She hums, and smirks down at me like she knows exactly what kind of power she holds right now.

I lean in, no hesitation, and press a soft kiss to her pussy, then another, deeper. She tastes sweet and salty and so damn good.

I part her with my thumbs and lazily drag my tongue through her. She sucks in a breath above me, one hand slipping into my hair.

My mouth finds her clit, swollen and begging for attention, and I suck it between my lips until her knees shake.

“Fuck—” she gasps, voice breathy and wrecked already.

Licking her is the only language I know right now, like it’s the only way I’ll ever convince her she belongs to me.

I hook her thigh over my shoulder, open her wider, bury my face deeper. I work her relentlessly, tongue circling her clit while I slide two fingers inside her, curling them until they press against that sweet, swollen spot that makes her cry out.

“Patrick—fuck—oh my God—”

Her hips buck against my mouth, and I take it, let her grind on my face, let her use me. I want her to come on me, because of me, for me.

Her moans pitch higher, her thighs start to shake, and I know she’s close. Right there.

Then her fingers twist in my hair and she pulls.

I resist at first, desperate to stay buried in her, but she yanks harder, dragging my mouth away from her.

“Levana? What the fuck are you doing?”

I try to dive back in, already aching to suck her clit until she comes all over my face, but she’s already pulling me to my feet, her hands urgent, shaking.

She pushes me back onto the bed. “Condom,” she gasps. “Where? Now, please.”

I fumble blindly for the nightstand, fingers scrambling until I snatch one from the drawer.

“Faster,” she pants, her voice breaking. “Faster…”

I barely have time to tear it open before she snatches it off me and wraps her hand around me to roll it on fast and messy.

“Sweet Hell,” I choke out. But the words die in my throat, because she’s already on me, sliding down onto my cock.

The sound that rips from my chest isn’t even human, and my head tips back, hands going straight to her breasts.

She hisses through her teeth.

“Too much?” I ask.

She shakes her head, breath ragged. “No. Just do it.”

I groan, rolling her nipples between my fingers. She arches into the pain, riding me harder like it’s feeding her.

“Sorry, Patrick,” she pants, as she starts to move, fast and frantic. “I can’t—I can’t fuck around. I’ve been thinking about your cock all night. I nearly came in the shower just thinking about you.”

“What did you do in the shower, you dirty girl?” I growl, thumbing her nipple again just to see her twitch.

She moans, hips jerking. “Touched myself…”

“Tell me.”

“I leaned against the wall,” she gasps, grinding down harder. “Rubbed my clit… thought about your mouth—your fingers…”

I thrust up into her, matching her rhythm, and she shudders, body clenching around me.

“Fucking show me,” I demand.

Her hand slides down between us, fingers finding her clit, and I damn near lose it watching her touch herself while riding me. The way her hips roll, how her breath stutters—it’s fucking lethal.

“Then what did you do?” I growl, one hand sliding up her belly, over the slight swell I still can’t believe is real.

She whimpers, but doesn’t break her rhythm. “I imagined you behind me, grabbing my hips, fucking me against the tile…”

God help me.

“I kept edging myself,” she breathes as her fingers work faster. “Over and over. Thinking about you. About how hard your cock gets when you’re desperate. About how you sound when you come—how your voice breaks.”

“Fucking hell,” I grit out through a moan, dragging my hands to her waist. “How did I get so lucky?”

She gasps, slamming herself down. “Fuck—I was right there, Patrick. I was right there in the shower. Just the lightest touch and I would’ve come.”

Her rhythm stutters as she gets closer.

“But I didn’t. I could’ve—but I didn’t. I wanted to save it for you. I wanted to save it for your cock.”

Holy fuck.

My vision whites out for a second, the pressure pooling in my spine like molten lava.

“I’m gonna fucking come, Levana,” My voice breaks. “You better come for me. Right now.”

“I’m trying… I’m trying,” she gasps, her breath hitching.

“Fucking try harder,” I snarl through my teeth, dragging her hips harder, faster.

“I can’t!” she cries, her voice cracking on the word. “I’m going as fast as I can!”

“Not fast enough,” I snap. My cock throbs painfully inside her, whole body straining as I fight to hold back.

“Patrick, I—oh, god…” her voice cracks and her body locks up, thighs shaking violently, muscles clenching down hard around me as she shatters, sobbing her way through her release.

“Fuck…” I groan, slamming my hips up into hers one last time as I lose it. The pressure breaks, pleasure ripping through me as I grind her down against me, dragging out every last pulse, spilling hard into the condom.

I stroke a hand over her stomach, devouring the way she’s trembling above me.

“You’ve got five minutes,” I rasp. “And then we’re going again. I’m nowhere near done with you.”