Page 63 of Hidden By His Side

Her hair swooshed against him as she shook her head.

Summer would never complain, even while crying against him. The sobbing had slowed some, and the stiffness in her shoulders and back was easing as well.

He kissed the side of her head, and she sighed, more of her tension draining.

“Any cramps?” he asked, his throat too tight. He wanted to move his hand up to press over her stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

He should have expected those words. “So no cramps or twinges in your stomach?”

Her breath puffed over his neck in another sigh. “I’m fine, Ram. Just tired.”

She’d come, multiple times, so hard that the way her cunt had milked him had brought him close to coming himself, faster than ever before. The thought of being buried inside her made him aware of his cock in a way that only proved he was an asshole. There was a part of him that wanted to be buried inside her all the time. The heat of her was better than anything he’d felt before.

Even though he’d hurt her, there was no way in hell he could let her go.

“You said…” She cleared her throat, her head pressing into his neck a little harder. “You said you lost control?”

“I’m sorry.” The words were meaningless after the way he’d used her body. She’d told him recently how difficult sex had been for her, and he’d pounded his way inside her. The washcloth under his hand was losing its warmth already. He should reheat it. She had to be so sore.

“Does that mean…?” She didn’t finish the question, pushing her lips against his skin instead.

Even that was arousing. Sleeping with her was going to be the sweetest torture from now on. “It’d been a while for me,” Ramiro admitted. Telling her felt like an excuse, and he winced. “That’s no excuse. I should have—”

“It’s fine. I understand.” She rolled away from him, giving him her back. “I’m really tired.”

Summer looked so vulnerable, naked on top of the covers. He managed to tug the covers down, placing her between them before tossing the washcloth in the hamper and joining her.

Summer didn’t protest as he positioned himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. One of his hands rested right over her stomach. There was no bump to indicate life grew inside.

She felt so fragile under his hand. He needed to treat her more delicately than he had.

He listened to her breathing for a long time. There were no hitches or sobs anymore, just a steady evenness as she let her body rest like it needed.

She was still able to sleep in his arms. The thought of that finally soothed him into sleeping himself.

The next night, Summer slept in the guest room, and Ramiro didn’t sleep at all.

The rest of the week shifted back to normal. Each morning, they went to the office, and Summer focused on being the perfect, organized secretary he admired. No pouting or crying allowed. She could do this. She could smile at him and take care of what he’d let her and slowly make everything better for him.

A part of her died when he didn’t argue over her sleeping in the guest bedroom. There was no reason for him to talk her out of it, not after she’d failed to take care of him.

She tried to forget how many orgasms he’d brought her. It was like he’d found some sort of easy button inside of her, or maybe it was just because she’d been with Ramiro. She loved him, so any way he touched her felt good.

For a second, when he’d apologized for losing control, hope had flickered inside her. Not because he’d apologized—his apology made her feel even more worthless and broken—but the idea that he’d wanted her enough to lose control was tantalizing. He’d corrected her, though. He hadn’t wanted her. He’d just wanted sex.

She wondered how long “a while” was for him, but decided it was better not to ask. Two weeks had been “a while” according to Derek, and Ramiro was so much more masculinethan him. The sight of Ramiro’s chest every morning caused her hands to twitch with the need to feel all that hair beneath her touch.

Getting up before him was no longer a problem. Sleeping at all was the struggle. How quickly she’d become addicted to having his body so close to hers.

Ramiro treated her the same, besides touching her less. He must know that any touch would cause her to throw herself at him again.

She was so needy it was pathetic, but she had always been pathetic; he was just too kind to tell her. She tried to bury that part of herself deep inside until it formed a tight ball in her stomach, one that never went away.

She’d thrown her feelings at him, begging him to love her, all while knowing it was wrong. Ramiro would be settling if he chose her. She’d never be good enough for him. He needed someone else, someone confident and sexy and whole.

Her selfishness knew no limits. She’d even started to resent the poor little girl growing in her stomach. Lately, it felt like the baby was trying to punish her. Summer was nauseous all the time. She hid the number of trips she made to the bathroom from Ramiro, which worked because he had a lot to deal with.

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