Page 70 of Desperate Games

I don’t laugh.

I narrow my eyes until she shifts in her chair, her shoulders twitching under my scrutiny.

“What?” she asks finally, reaching for her milk.

She drinks, but her hand trembles, and when she sets the cup down, a little mustache of white lingers above her lip.

God help me, I want to lean over and lick it off.

“Is everything okay?” I ask instead. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.

Her brows draw together. “What do you mean?”

“With the pregnancy,” I clarify, steady and firm.

“Oh, yes. I’m healthy as a horse.” She blinks, then nods.

“I’d like to go with you to the next appointment.”

“Okay. I have to see the doctor on Monday.”

“Good.” I call out to the other room, “Callie, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

Andy pushes her chair back.

“I’ll be fast,” she murmurs, reaching for her plate.

I catch her wrist before she can take it.

“I got it. You get ready.”

She nods quickly, her wide eyes darting to mine—like she can’t quite decide if she’s scared of me, grateful for me, or just stunned that I keep doing these things for her.

Maybe all three.

And I’ll take it.

Because the truth is, every look, every sound, every heartbeat she gives me ties her tighter to me.

She disappears down the hall, and I stand at last, clearing our plates. My hard-on presses against my zipper, but I ignore it. For now.

There’s time for that later.

Right now? I’m playing the long game.

Because she’s not just my wife on paper. She’s mine in every way that counts.

And one way or another, Andrea Ramirez is going to love me the way I already love her.

I just hope I can be patient.

Chapter Twenty-Andrea

I don’t remember when the ache started.

Somewhere between answering emails and hauling myself off the couch to make tea, a sharp cramp cut through me, low and deep, enough to steal my breath.

I tried to brush it off—first pregnancy nerves, twins, hormones—but then another hit. Harder.