Page 92 of Coerced Kiss

The room spins as I make a beeline for the bathroom. Vaguely, I register that Saverio follows. I don’t even care that Islam the door in his face. I’ve barely fallen on my knees in front of the toilet before emptying my stomach.

The door slams against the wall as another heave folds my body double. Bile burns in my throat. I cling to the rim of the toilet, shaking as blackened edges creep into my vision.

“Anya.” A broad palm falls on my shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Please.” I lift a hand. “Go away.”

“Never,” he says, grabbing my hair in a ponytail at my nape. “I’m not leaving you.”

Miserable and weak, I scavenge just enough energy to protest. “I don’t want you to see this.”

“I’ve seen much worse.” He rubs soothing circles over my back. “Besides, you shouldn’t be ashamed of being sick. If anything, you should be proud.”

I huff a laugh while wiping away tears from the fit that racked my body. “Proud?”

“Yes.” He brushes a curl from my forehead. “You’re making the biggest miracle of life.”

Reaching up, I grip the handle and flush the toilet. “The miracle of craving things I puke out in the morning?”

“The miracle of creating a human being.” His tone softens. “A baby.”

I still at that. Up to now, I’ve been so busy surviving, I haven’t thought about the changes in my body like that.

“You’re lucky, Anya.”

I love my baby so much I’ll die for her without thinking twice, but it hasn’t been smooth sailing up to now. Ironically, it’s a killer who points out how precious the life inside me is. It’s the hardened criminal hooking his hands under my armpits and hauling me to my feet who reminds me how much I have to be grateful for.

“Here,” he says, guiding me to the basin. “Brush your teeth. You’ll feel better.”

I’m too drained to argue. I only stand there while he squirts toothpaste onto my toothbrush and hands it to me.

When I sway a little, he steps behind me and steadies me with his hands locked around my ribcage. His body is hard and warm against mine, his naked skin burning me through the thin layers of my clothes. Heat shouldn’t gather between my thighs, not in the state that I’m in, but my hormones seem to have a mind of their own.

He fills a glass with water and hands it to me after I spit out the toothpaste. When I’ve rinsed my mouth, he lifts me into his arms and carries me back to bed.

“I have to get ready for work,” I say when he lays me down on the mattress.

“You’re going nowhere. I’m calling Nicole.”

I recognize the determination in the hard set of his features. When he’s like this, there’s no persuading him otherwise. Resistance will only make him more obstinate. The key is to be practical. He responds to logic. The secret is in employing a gentle argument.

I grip his wrist when he straightens. “I can’t lose this job. It’s important to me. I’m still on probation. The HR manager is already unhappy with the time I took off.”

“You don’t have to worry about money. You’ll have all you can ever need.”

“Because you’ll pay me off?”

A shutter drops in front of his eyes. His expression becomes closed-off as he pulls free from my grip and lifts the duvet to cover me.

Sensing that I’m losing this battle, I lay a hand on his forearm. “Wait.”

He pauses.

“It’s not only about the money,” I continue. “It’s about pride, about being self-sufficient and taking care of myself.”

“You’re like no one I’ve met.”

“How’s that?”

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