Page 72 of Hers to Control

Iunlock the door to my studio. The familiar scent of sweat and lavender disinfectant greets us as we step inside. It’s comforting. The dimly lit space immediately gives me a sense of coming home. It’s filled with memories of hours spent training and honing my skills. Skills that weren’t quite enough to save me from the Russians, but I remind myself that I would have fought differently if it wasn’t for Peanut. I’d also been outnumbered each time. No, I shouldn’t be down on myself. I fought, and that counted for something.

And I hadn’t been alone. Eric had been there to get me back from the assholes who kidnapped me. So maybe my fighting is sufficient, as long as I have someone to have my back.

It’s a weird new concept, relying on someone, but I’m starting to like it.

Eric follows close behind me, and despite his knife obsession, it’s comforting to have him at my back.

I lead him around the entrance area and to the center of the training mats. The cool surface of the mats presses against the soles of my feet as I turn to face him. It’s a distinct contrast to the heat I feel whenever I look at the damned man.

His gaze meets mine, dark and intense, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

Without a word, Eric closes the distance between us, his hands reaching out to frame my face as he leans in closer. Our lips meet in a hungry kiss, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce between us.

Yeah, I’ve gotten sweaty on these mats before, but this promises to be so much better.

I melt into his embrace, my body yielding to his touch in a way I’d never do during a fight. He guides me down to the mats, but at this point, I’m too damn horny to even care how cool the mats are beneath me.

His hands roam my body, exploring every curve and contour, and these days there is a lot more curve to me than there ever was before. I’m most definitely showing. I arch into his touch, a moan escaping my lips as he trails kisses along my jawline and down my neck.

The hunger I’m feeling now has nothing on my pregnancy cravings. This is a hunger that only Eric can satisfy. I pull him closer, urging him on. His mouth on my skin, sucking and licking, makes my brain go hazy, but I have enough awareness that I reach for his belt and open it.

He pushes my hands away when I fumble with his zipper and pushes himself up for a moment to kick his jeans off.

“Hurry,” I tell him and he gives me a look that could mean anything from, ‘Don’t bug me’ to ‘I’ll muzzle you if you say as much as another word’. I smile up at him sweetly, and he huffs out a laugh.

“Get on your knees,” he orders, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Why?”

“So I can fuck you from behind.”

“What if I want to be on top?”

“You got to be on top yesterday.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Eric shrugs, standing there naked above me, like he’s got all the time in the world when I know for a fact his dick is aching to be inside of me.

My pussy aches, too, though, and the large pasta dish I ate less than an hour ago is as good a reason not to go on top as anything, so I roll my eyes at him and get on all four.

He steps up behind me, his hands sliding over my ass as if he’s worshiping it. Which is great and all, but I’ve got needs and he’s not getting to those. At least not at the speed I’d like him to get there.

“Eric,” I warn him, and the asshole actually laughs.

“Are your pregnancy hormones kicking in or do I need to feed you pasta every day?” he asks, and I’m almost speechless by the audacity of the guy. He never so much as utters an unnecessary phrase, but suddenly he’s intent on wasting time with annoying questions?

Yeah, I’m not having that.

I bend my arms, bringing my upper body down to the mat, while simultaneously kicking one leg up and twisting my hips. As my leg connects with an unsuspecting Eric and he actually gives way, losing his balance, I push my arms up again, twisting my entire body, until I’m on my back and he’s down on the mat, caught between my legs.

It would have been a great success if my stomach hadn’t picked that exact moment to declare that I was moving significantly too much for its liking.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, gritting my teeth against the rising tide of nausea.

Eric, still sprawled on the floor, looks up at me with surprise. “Are you okay?” he asks, his earlier teasing tone replaced by something else. It’s a strange tone coming from him, but I’m starting to recognize it for what it is. Genuine concern.

I nod, my stomach lurching in protest. “Just… just give me a moment,” I mumble, struggling to sit up without aggravating the queasiness further.

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