Page 172 of Piggy

His touch pulls me back as he moves closer, startling me as my back hits the counter.

I blink. My voice is small, but honest. “Do you not like my hair because you’re worried I’d leave you?”

“Cute,” he says, dragging his fingers along my arm. “You still think I’d let you leave.”

The silence pulses, thick with desire... and even fear. He sees me squirm, and he chuckles.

“Relax. Your hair is beautiful. Although, if you get too much attention, I’ll cut it off myself.”

I give a half-smile and tease sweetly, “Worried about men who might kidnap me?”

His lip curls. “Not on my watch, but do you want me to put the mask back on?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Because I do.

Instead, I change the subject. “It’s wild the police never figured out what happened.”

“They were distracted,” he says flatly. “A woman mauled to death by a pig. A house full of strangers and endless DNA. A place of sex, drugs, and sin. Too many suspects to count. And a cop left dead. A bad cop. They wanted to forget about that case.”

“True. Riser wasn’t even his real name.”

Grayson nods. “He manipulated everything. Helped Meghan get me behind bars again. He probably wrote the police report after they tried to force you to write that letter. I bet helped Meghan avoid arrest that day.”

He turns to the fridge, pulls out a water bottle, and hands it to me without asking.

“Thank you,” I say shyly.

“Drink. You’re dehydrated.”

I open it with a warm smile. He’s right. He’s always watching me, taking care of me. Even when he’s calm, there’s a tension in his shoulders, ready if I need him. I am his world.

I take a swig, then say, “I’m so relieved we got Wilbur back.”

“You mean, you’re glad I broke into Animal Control and stole him before they killed him.”

“Yousavedhim. Not stole,” I tease.

“Yes, well, that pig loves you. Clearly.”

I nod proudly. “He was protecting the only mom he’s ever known. Me!”

“That’s why I got him for you in the first place,” he says. “Wanted to see if you liked caring for something helpless.” His voice drops a little further. “Like a child.”

My breath stalls.

His gaze burns down to my stomach.

“Wait... are—”

“I want to put a baby in you,” he says, unflinching. He lifts me onto the counter, settling between my thighs. “We talked about it a long time ago. You would be a great mother, Charlotte. You want one?”

I amstunned. He married me, sure, but he wants a family. To be a father. He sees it possible now,withme.

“I—uh—now?”

“I’m a supervisor at the docks. You’ve got your EMT job. And if you want to be home with the baby, I’ll make it happen. I already did once. I’ll do it again.”

His hands grip my hips, possessive and steady.