Page 57 of Hidden By His Side

Ramiro watched Summer move the blue bowl yet again. He needed to buy her a stand for it. The only time she held still with it was in front of the sliding glass door, while moonlight spilled onto the curved sides.

She’d been holding it just like that when she’d fallen apart just from him caressing her neck. He’d relived that moment too often in the days since. Putting her fingers in his mouth today had been a mistake. Hearing her gasp and pant was an even bigger mistake.

The steady ache of wanting to be inside her again didn’t mix well with his need to protect her. The way she’d been looking at him all afternoon, like she wanted him too, chipped away at his resolve to take things slow.

Summer loved him. They loved each other. He wanted so badly to fuck that love into her.

It had been five long years since he’d been inside her, since he’d had sex with anyone. After being with Summer, the thought of being with any other woman had left him cold. He wanted to feel Summer around him, but more than that, he wanted to bring her to orgasm, even if it was simply from sucking her neck again.

He needed to be careful. Seeing her afraid tore him up, and she still had triggers. He wanted to take away her anxiety, not feed it.

She looked anxious even now, holding that bowl. Tension had wound tighter and tighter inside her ever since he’d suckedon her fingers in the office. Was it a tension he could fix by touching her? Or would he just be making it worse?

He didn’t want to be another man that made her endure. He only wanted her to feel good.

Summer sighed, turning around and growing still when she saw him.

“Ramiro,” she said, her voice husky enough to slip over his skin and add to his ache. She didn’t say his full name often, but when she did, he loved the sound of it.

He moved toward her, his hands cupping the bowl around hers.

Summer’s head tilted up, her gorgeous neck there for the taking. It still had a lingering bruise from the other night. He’d known the hickey he was giving her would be deep, and every time he saw it, he grew hard. He wanted to mark her as his even more.

Would she like that? Or would she let him do it because she thought he would like it?

She released the bowl, her hand lifting to cover the hickey and breaking his stare.

He swallowed. “You still haven’t found the right place. I’ll put the bowl back for tonight.” He headed toward the kitchen with it in his hands.

“Oh, I’ll—”

“I want to do it, Summer. I want to take care of things for you whenever I can.” He also wanted a moment to control hiserection. His cock wasn’t going to get to slam into her tonight. He doubted she’d ever enjoy slamming.

She liked how hard you went at her the first time, a voice whispered in his head.

His erection wouldn’t go away if he kept having thoughts like that. The memory sent tingles down his spine. He’d eased inside her that first time, but then he’d pushed into her harder and harder.

“I’ll meet you in the room,” he said, the words tight and thick, like other parts of his body.

He listened to the slow pad of her feet as she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Releasing the bowl, he gripped the counter instead, willing himself to calm down. At this rate, he would scare her for sure.

Could he hurt the baby if he fucked her too hard? His mind spun, and he dragged out his phone to research the answer.

Pregnancy sex was a rabbit hole he might never climb out of. Ramiro read about increased libidos and triggering contractions and a lot of other things. Most had to do with the last trimester.

The first trimester always had the scariest research. Between how ill the mother can become to the high percentage of miscarriages, the articles seemed designed to feed fear, not hope.

At least he was no longer struggling with an erection.

He sighed, lowering his phone. He’d never thought about pregnancy before, more out of a dislike of kids than anything else. Now he ate up every tidbit he could find, but the more helearned, the more terrified he became. He felt so helpless. Each small thing he could do didn’t seem like enough.

Down the hallway, the spare bathroom’s light flicked off, and Summer stepped out. He’d told her she could use the one attached to the main bedroom. The idea of her toothbrush next to his, her soap and shampoo and toiletries scattered among his, both inside and outside of the shower, remained a dream.

Even her clothes remained in the guest bedroom. He’d much rather see them taking up all that space in his closet, to have flowery-printed dresses and skirts not just next to his suits but mixed among them.

She was living with one foot out the door even after he’d told her he was all in. She stared at him when she didn’t think he was looking, and worry remained in her eyes, one he wasn’t sure how to obliterate.

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