I’ve been avoiding telling him about the twins out of fear of his reaction. I know eventually I have to do it, since this is a small town and news of my half-orc babies would travel fast once they finally arrive. The chances of him putting two and two together are high, and anyway, I don’t think it’s fair to keep his children from him. That isn’t my goal. I wantmy babies to have their daddy in their lives if that’s possible.
It’s just that he’d been so snappy with me, so unpleasant and distant, that it was hard to imagine the right way of going about it.
But last night made me reconsider the idea that Rhokar hates me, that he might reject any children associated with me.
He’d been so sincere. So awkward and sweet.
He made me want to try again. Which was a shocking thought for me, considering I’d stopped trying since Peter divorced me eight years ago.
Feeling the desireto try come to life inside me again, I realize now, that I’d given up. I wasn’t being practical all this time, I wasn’t being pragmatic or realistic by avoiding relationships. I was giving up.
And then he’d almost kissed me. That almost-kiss was hotter than most actual kisses I’ve experienced in my life.
I fan myself briefly at the flush the memory brings to my cheeks, flipping open my laptop and trying to look normal as I sit at a booth in The Golden Griffin and wait for my dinner.
The way his hand had slipped into my hair. The slow, predatory way he’d walked into me, controlling my body until I hit the cool metal of his car, trapped and, frankly, without a single thought of escape on my mind. He’d set me on fire last night in those brief seconds. My body craved to feel him again, my lady bits immediately recognizing his touch and flickering to life so fast it shocked me.
God, the gentle way his callused thumb caressed my bottom lip…I’d been about half a second away from leaning forward to capture his skin between my teeth and sucking on his thumb like some sort of woman in heat. Something had come over me so completely, almost as if an external force was tugging my heart towards him, and I wish with all my might it had tugged harder.
My body was coming to life before me with a strength I’d thought was long faded, and then…nothing. He’d stopped.
Why had he pulled away? Why did he suddenly jump from me like I’d tasered him?
And then today, he didn’t even show up at work, apparently, he was at some sort of meeting. Was he avoiding me? Did he regret what he’d almost done, that much? And what would that mean for my children, if Rhokar was the type of man to jump in and out of people’s lives like that? Would it be safe to bring him into their lives if he was just going to leave again?
I stifle a groan and drop my elbows onto the table before me, squishing my cheeks between my palms and pouting as Nib appears with a glass of sparkling water and a wedge of lemon.
“Oh, hun, are you sureyou don’t want a glass of Pinot?” she says as she places the water down. “That’s your ‘woe is me’ pose. Your ‘my life is complicated and I’m sad about it’ pose. Your—”
“Alright, alright.” I wave my hand as if I’m trying to wave her words away, probably because she’s hit the nail on the head. “You’re right, maybe a glass would go down well right now.”
“Of course it would,” she says with pity in her voice and a smile forming on her lips. “You only ever come in here when your boss makes you sad and you need a drink and a shoulder to complain on, anyway. Why would today be any different, my woeful little buttercup?”
I mock-glare up at her as she sends me a wink and zips off through the air back to the bar.
My phone pings with a message from Grace, and after one last look through my emails to triple check that Gossamer Wings Daycare is the best choice for starting my babies at next week, I reply back to her message confirming that everything is set for her to bring them this Sunday, and pop my phone to the side.
I’m not even hungry, I could have easily gone straight home after work today and continued the last of the prep for my home. But Rhokar’s voice kept ringing through my thoughts saying, “Eat properly,” and it was annoying and demanding and even worse, he was right. So I’d come here, because I’m still too mentally pooped to cook.
What’s happening to me? Since when do I listen to a man when he tells me what to do? Even my ex-husband never had the ability. If Peter had ever told me to eat, I’d be more likely to go hungry even if I was starved that day, just to prove he couldn’t boss me around.
I sigh and drop my head back against the booth seat.
Peter couldn’t kiss like Rhokar, I think morosely. He certainly couldn’t make me orgasm several times in one night, or grip me so tight it almost hurt, and made me feel safer than I’ve ever felt before…
An image of Rho’s hard, naked green body kneeling over me flashes through my mind and I jerk forward to drop my cheeks into my palms again, trying to stop myself from those memories, since they only make me feel worse right now.
Peter never fed me before himself, either. Or apologized after a fight, or held doors open for me even when he was mad—he’d actually had a nasty habit of slamming them directly in my face if we were having an argument.
Rhokar did all of those things, and more. And all of this while we weren’t even on friendly terms, let alone married for years.
But last night, after the car alarm, it’s like he’d just changed his mind and fled.
Why hadn’t he wanted to kiss me? Did I do something wrong?
When Nib flies back with my wine, she settles into the seat opposite me and hands me the glass, and I immediately take a long, soothing sip.
“So you kissed Rhokar, did you? Is that why you’re moping?”