Page 24 of Mine to Worship

“Then stop rubbing my feet,” I lament and cross my arms over my chest.

He grins, those dimples making an appearance. I force my gaze away to see animals mating on the screen, and we both burst into laughter.

“That must be a sign,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at me.

For a moment, I’m suspended in this bubble of dreams. “Everything is a sign for sex to you.”

He offers an unapologetic shrug and grabs the remote, stopping on a concert of classical music. “I heard this stuff is good for the baby,” he says.

I don’t know if that’s true. Still, warmth spreads inside me and I close my eyes, to listen to the deep and harmonious sounds echoing around us. He crawls between my legs and, on instinct, I clench my thighs. His head rests on my belly and my fingers caress his scalp.

Brain, help me out, because my body can’t stop touching him or wanting to be touched by him.

“I have never been more afraid in my life since knowing I am going to be a father. It’s changed everything. I’m terrified I will suck at this.” He leans his head in his hand, his eyes are lost in deep thought.

“A child needs love. Stop worrying, you will love our baby.”

“But I have no idea what to do.”

“No one is born a parent.”

His hands cup my belly and he trails his lips from my belly up to the valley of my breasts. “I want this with you, Ellia. All of it.”

“Kian...”

“Don’t leave me again.” His hands dig in my waist. His vulnerability and desperation tugs at every heart string. His breaths deepen, and I let the music lull me to sleep.

I blink as he kisses my temple then picks me up off the couch.

“Shh, sleep angel. I am just carrying you to bed.”

I am terrified I will lose myself within you. Again.

Yet I cuddle into him and he presses me to his chest.

“Let me love you.”

“I can’t stop you,” I mumble as he puts me down on the bed, burrowing under the blankets.

A wave of nausea hits me early in the morning. Kian finds me on the floor in the bathroom, bent over the toilet. He pulls my hair back and rubs my back soothingly.

“Go away,” I tell him.

“We’re both in this together.”

He wets a towel and dabs my face as I regain my breath. Once I’m sure I’ve heaved everything up, he lifts me up and carries me back to the bed. His care chips away at my armor, and I start allowing myself to believe that we can do this together.

“Shall I call your doctor?”

“No.”

He spoons me in bed, hand grazing my stomach, and the discomfort eases.

“You’re making it better,” I confess. I have done nothing since we came here to stop him from trying to make me forget or forgive.

He pulls me to his chest and I fall asleep in the cocoon of his arms.

It feels like no time has passed when I open my eyes.

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