Page 83 of The Unwanted Wife

"Hugo?" He frowns. "No, of course not. You consulted with the doctors; you know everything there is to know."

I relax slightly. "Okay."

"Okay." He straightens, then pulls my panties back into place, before tugging my dress down to cover my thighs. "You’ll let me know if there are any… consequences?"

He pulls me up to sitting and I tilt my head. "You mean, if I get pregnant?"

His jaw stiffens, then he jerks his chin.

"Are you worried I might be pregnant?"

"If you are… We’ll deal with it."

"Hold on." I push at him, but of course, he refuses to step away. "What do you mean, deal with it?"

"I mean, we’ll figure out what to do about it."

"It… You mean your child and mine?"

"It’s hypothetical at this moment, but that’s what I mean, yes." He rubs the back of his neck. "I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. There’s probably nothing here to discuss, but if you are?—"

"Then I’d be so very happy. Wouldn’t you?"

He looks away again, then takes a step back. And the cold air seems to rush in between us.

“Nate?” I slide off the desk, then draw in a sharp breath when the cum slides down between my legs. He turns to me at once. His sharp, heterochromatic gaze must follow mine to where I’m staring at the moisture that glistens below the hem of my dress.

"Jesus," he breaths, then once more, sinks down to his knees. "Fuck." He wraps his thick fingers round each of my calves, his digits long enough to meet around the other side, and it’s not like my legs are on the slimmer side, either. But the way he slides his fingers up, until he’s able to scoop up the trail of liquid, makes me feel fragile and ethereal. But I’ve always felt delicate with him. The way he handles my body with care, but also with a confidence that says he’s comfortable with my size, does wonders for my self-confidence. It’s only with him, I feel myself. It’s only around him, I can act like I’m normal size and not fat. Oh, I’m good at putting on an act in front of everyone, but there are still times when I look at the mirror and wish I was an M, if not a S.

He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on it, and I can almost taste our joined-up cum.

"I’m sorry." He looks up at me from his position at my knees. "I’m a selfish bastard. I should be worried about how you feel that I was bareback inside you. Instead, all I can focus on is my hang ups."

"For the record, I’m happy you didn’t use a condom."

"For the record, I’m fucking turned on that you’re going to be walking around all evening with my cum dripping out of your cunt."

And just like that, sparks unfurl again in my belly.

"So, you’ll be fine if I’m pregnant?"

His gaze widens, before those damn shutters come down over his eyes. "We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it." He smooths my skirt down, then stands, so once again, he’s towering over me. "Arthur’s expecting us at the 7A Club."

"The 7A Club?"

"For some reason, it’s not his place today, and he wants the family together." He raises his shoulders.

"I can’t leave my employee to close the shop again."

"She’s doing well, so far, isn’t she?"

"She is," I acknowledge.

"And you have the money to pay her overtime."

"I…do," I say slowly.

"Bet she’ll be happy for the extra cash."

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