Page 165 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

She could do itnow. Slide down his body, under the duvet, and take him in her mouth. Wake him like that.

She could do what she liked. Take and give as much as she desired, and he’d meet her stroke for stroke as he had last night. And she’d meet him too. Kiss for kiss. Thrust for thrust. A mutual consideration of each other’s pleasure.

It wassafesex. Emotionally and physically, she was—

Panic flared in her ribcage.

They hadn’t used protection. She hadn’t thought, hadn’t—

Her hand shot to the flat of her stomach.

What would it mean if she was pregnant? Did they have a clause in their contract? Would that void it? She didn’t want children. Didhe? Eventually? When he married someone without a contract? When he found—

Her stomach churned.

He didn’t believe in love. He said he didn’t want it, that he understood, as she did, it was a lie.

‘What’s wrong?’ He must have sensed her anxiety. Woken to it. Or perhaps she’d alerted him to her panic by tightening her grip on his stomach.

She froze. Stayed where she was on his chest. Her hand splayed taut on his abdomen.

‘We didn’t use protection,’ she said, and listened. But the tempo of his heart remained unchanged. It was calm. Steady. ‘I might be pregnant.’Nothing. ‘I don’t know when my last cycle was. I’ve never been consistent. I’ve never not used a condom. We—I—could get emergency contraception.’

Idly, his fingers stroked her hip bone. ‘You can’t be pregnant, Emma.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked.

‘I can’t have children,’ he said flatly as his other hand moved to her hair and smoothed over it. Over her scalp. ‘I had a vasectomy many years ago. Before we met.’

A feeling settled in her chest, something heavy. And she couldn’t distinguish it from relief or sorrow. It felt very similar to the blow she’d felt when Dante had told her of the loss of her mother. But that was stupid, wasn’t it? To mourn the fact she’d never carry his child?

‘Do you regret it?’ she asked and immediately felt that she should apologise. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—’

‘No, I don’t regret it,’ he answered matter-of-factly. ‘I never wanted children.’

‘Why not?’ she asked, curiosity blooming where it shouldn’t.

His heartbeat quickened.

‘My mother used me as leverage against my father. He wanted an heir, and she sold him one. I never wanted to be in a similar position. Where my child was used as a bargaining chip.’

Emma jolted into a sitting position, dislodging his hands, and stared at him. ‘Your mothersoldyou?’

‘She did.’ He remained where he was against the pillows. And he seemed almost relaxed, comfortable. But how could that be the case when he had told her something so abhorrent?

‘For how much?’ she spat. ‘Her soul?’

He shrugged. ‘Lifetime financial security and a private island the size of a small country.’

‘She—’

His eyes flashed. ‘Is unimportant,’ he remarked, obviously eager to be done with this line of enquiry. But Emma was not done.

‘How can she be? She—’

‘Has no bearing on my life.’

‘You made the choice not to have children because of her.’

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