Page 70 of These Deadly Vows

“Don’t be a brat.” I stare up at him, meeting his molten gaze. “Now move to the top of the bed, want you riding my face until you come.”

And with that order, I forget that any other woman has been with him or made him feel good.

Lorenzo lays back on the pillows and I straddle his face. He grips my hips and I grind on his tongue as if it were his cock while holding onto the headboard for support.

My generous biker makes good on his word, and I cream on his face and again on his glorious dick.

I awaken earlier than usual to the sound of Lorenzo arguing on the phone with someone.

“Tell them they work for me or not at all. I don’t give a fuck. We don’t pay them to ask questions. Nothing has changed since Marco was in power.”

I wrap an arm around him from behind and press my lips to his shoulder. He bends his head to kiss the tips of my fingers as a good morning greeting. At least I’m not on the receiving end of his wrath any longer.

“Never mind. I’ll handle it. I’ve got a meeting near there tomorrow, anyway.” He ends the call and turns to me. “I’m afraid Axe will have to take you to your appointment.”

“What appointment?”

“Your appointment with the OBGYN.”

“You never told me you made me an appointment. I already have my own doctor.”

“Dr. Tores is one of the best.”

Shit. He’s going to find out. Maybe I should come clean. Maybe he’ll understand. Sympathize with me over another monstrous act my father committed. He leaves the bed, taking his warmth with him. I shiver under the fan. The temperature in the room seems to have dropped twenty degrees.

“Lorenzo?”

He stops at the bathroom door. “What?”

I chicken out. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Nah. I’ll grab something at the party.”

“How many people are coming?”

“Not a lot. Today is mostly for the club officers and the brothers who rarely get time with their kids.” He winks at me, and my stomach drops along with what was left of my appetite.

My husband wants the one thing I can’t give him more than anything in this world. Logically, I know I’m not defective. That my father’s choice took a family off the table before I was old enough to process what it meant for my future on a grander scale. The loss of what could be is hitting me harder than I expected this morning.

Moving through the motions, I go through my normal morning routine, pretending that everything is fine. That there isn’t a baby sized hole in my heart. One where I will never know what it’s like to have a child growing inside of me. I’ll never experience all the ups and downs that come with pregnancy. My stomach will never stretch and grow. My baby will never kick me from inside the womb. My breasts will never fill with milk.

Lorenzo will never get to rub my swollen belly. We’ll never pick out a crib or baby clothes.

I push away thoughts of what I can’t have and try to focus on what’s in front of me. On the life we’re building. One that’s the biggest lie of all.

“Can you tie this for me?” I call downstairs to Lorenzo.

He trudges back to the bedroom, coming up behind me at the dresser as I turn to my side to make sure my ass isn’t hanging out of my bottoms while crossing my arms over my chest to stop my breasts from being on display.

“What’d you need a hand with?” He curves a palm to my hip, shoving a finger under the string of my bottoms and snapping it.

“Tying these strings.” I loop them around my neck.

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?”

“If I turn you loose in this, I may be forced to fight, and I was looking forward to a steak.”

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