Page 176 of His Pretty Little Duet

She needs me, and I need her.

And I've made promises too.

I intend to keep them, sweet girl.

Fawn

A flutteringinside me steals my breath. It's not butterflies. Unless they have managed to break from my stomach and into my uterus... I press my hand between my hipbones. My face stills, my eyes losing focus while my mind becomes attune to the whooshing—no, rolling sensation.

Then I realise what it is.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I home in on the feeling, forgetting about Clay for just a moment so I don't miss this. I thought it was too early, but I'm small so maybe... I think, the baby is moving inside me. I can feel something strange.

"What's happening, Fawn?" he orders, his voice finds me in my daze, pulling me from my focus.

I open my eyes to his full of a kind of stern interest—on anyone else's face, it may be considered concern. I smile at him, training my eyes on his devilishly handsome face, ignoring the fact that he's little more than a stranger, intimating, all that, and just eager to see if he feels it too. "I feel something."

Without thinking, I throw the silky lapels of my gown open. Pulling his much bigger hand away from where it has a death grip on the counter, I press it firmly to my lower stomach.His hand almost flinches from me, stiff and defiant, but then he stills with my hand on top of his. Exhaling heavily, his long fingers span out to cradle my abdomen with a protective dominance that causes a rabble of butterflies to take flight inside me.

I stare into his eyes as the strange sensation happens again, but it's too early to be movement... isn't it? His eyes narrow to the sensation. Then meet mine. I smile wider, breathing with excitement and rapture, knowing he feels it as well.

He smiles too.

That. Is. Everything.

The sound of knocking stabs through my unconscious state, throwing me back into the hotel room, into the empty bed with only my small frame curled into a sideways ball.

I slowly sit up, regaining my senses as the knocking continues. The phone rings. It is an obnoxious chiming that is surely to alert me of the other obnoxious sound coming from outside the room. All the noise slams within my skull, forcing a groan from me.

I grip my forehead. Cradle my brain as it shrivels under the dehydration my tears left. My eyes burn as I blink them open. Tracks from the streams of salty tears pinch my cheeks as I work my mouth open and shut.

The noise continues.

Then the dream leaks in…

He smiles too.

That. Is. Everything.

Immediately, I cup between my abdomen to protect the hollow centre. A punch of anguish beats through me as I place myself in this moment with an empty womb.

An empty bed.

I gaze over at the far wall, seeing a stack of pillows. The image of me from this morning rips a sob from me. After he fucked me, he waited and then left the moment the waking world eluded me. But my sleep didn't last long. Seconds. A minute, maybe, before I dragged myself back with dread being my guide. Dread that the click I heard in my half-conscious space was the door. That it was him leaving, that he was—I sat up in despair.

He was gone.

No.The memory alone hurts.

I flung the pillows around the room—needing to ruin the fabricated world he'd created for me—broke a vase potentially worth more than my foster mother's house and then dutifully cleaned up the glass fragments knowing I’ll probably step on them if I don’t.

Then I stacked the pillows.

It felt ridiculous,needed. The entire scene ripped apart because it wasn't real without him. The hotel floor. The perfect view. The concept of a holiday together. All bullshit.

"Be my strong girl."

I shake the memory. The knocking at the front door continues as I slump to my feet, wrap myself in a robe, and wander over to swing the double doors open.

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