Page 77 of Dream Girl Drama

At the cost of everythinghewants.

No.

No.

She loved him too much for that.

“Did you tell my mother about Harvey’s past hoping she would call off the wedding?”

“She overheard me making some accusations. They weren’t enough.” His body was fully on top of hers now, her thighs snuggling around his hips, their bodies shifting and conforming, shifting and conforming, two beings enjoying the various ways they could mold together. Luxuriating in what they’d denied themselves for so long. “I hired a private investigator,” he said against her ear, catching her breath in her throat. “He hasn’t had any luck yet. But if there is something my father did that might mean calling off this marriage, I’m going to find it, okay?”

A beat passed.

Two.

Sig seemed to be waiting, bracing for her reaction to the news.

But somehow, the revelation that Sig had hired someone to investigate Harvey didn’t come as a total shock. Did it surprise her? Yes. Of course, it did. But somewhere deep down, she’d known Sig was working on the problem. Trying to find a way for them to be together. She’d known it in her bones. Still, despite her strained and complicated relationship with Sofia... did shewantto ruin her mother’s happiness? Did Sig want to do that to his father?

No.

Sig wouldn’t be able to go through with hurting Harvey and Sofia. That wasn’t an act of the man she’d fallen madly in love with. And she wouldn’t be able to do it, either. Which only left one option—walk away from his skyrocketing career. Leave herown aspirations behind. In other words, therewasno good outcome if they stayed together. Didn’t he see that? Any which way they sliced it, someone lost. “What if the private investigator finds... nothing?”

“I don’t know.” Slowly, he pinned her wrists above her head, his breathing pattern beginning to change, along with hers, his sex swelling against her inner thigh. “But I do know there is nothing that could keep me away from you.”

Chloe’s growing appetite for Sig battled with that nagging dread, which was transforming from a mere feeling to something concrete. A clear picture that she could see and read and predict. Conversely, Sig wasn’t thinking clearly. She’d known that from the time she’d arrived at the hotel. As usual, he was considering her first.Themfirst. He’d implied he would give up playing hockey for the Bearcats because of her. Because of their relationship.

Never.

She would never let him give up his dream.

Would never let him do something so destructive.

With a walnut-sized object stuck behind her windpipe, she lifted her hips for him, their groans filling the room as he fit himself home inside her and started to rock.

“Tell me about Sweden again,” she whispered, blinking back the tears in her eyes. Tears that turned to a warm glaze when the headboard started to thump against the wall once more. “Are you shirtless and chopping firewood in our yard?”

His chuckle turned into a groan. “Who am I to deny you that view?” He leaned down and lapped at her nipples, one by one, his eyes pitch-black as he sucked. Watching her. “There’s a frozen pond in back. Where I’m teaching our kids to skate.”

His mouth roamed back up her body and over her lips, seducing any thoughts straight out of her head, except for the ones thatconcerned him and the fantasy world he spun with his words. “Kids,” she breathed. “You want kids.”

He tilted his head, regarding her with an overwhelming amount of love. Adoration. “I want to watch you be a mother.”

His weight bore down harder, more insistently, something a little animalistic and wicked flickering in his expression a split second before he flipped Chloe face down and pumped into her from behind, leaving her screaming into the pillow, nails clawing at the sheets.

“I want to make you one, too,” he rasped in her ear, his calloused thumbs digging into her hips. “Keep this ass up like a good girl and let me practice.”

THE FOLLOWING MORNING,Chloe cried the whole way to Grace’s penthouse.

Pierre sensed something was wrong, keeping his sleepy head in her lap in the back of the Uber. Wordlessly, the driver passed her back a box of tissues over his shoulder, which made her cry all the harder. Okay. She’d give herself until the end of the ride. Then it would be time to suck it up and be a grown-up.

Nothing could keep images of last night and this morning from bombarding her brain, but she could control how she reacted to them. At least, on the outside. When she thought of Sig lifting Pierre onto the foot of the bed last night and covering him with a spare blanket, before flipping on the Home Shopping Network so she could fall asleep to her preferred soundtrack, she wouldn’t sob and break down and faint dead away on the street.

She’d keep moving.

When she thought of the way Sig had kissed her so passionately when he left for the airport, making promises to call her as soon as he landed, she wouldn’t unleash an unholy scream overthe twist of guilt in her stomach. She would keep breathing. Keep living, even if her heart was in jagged, petrified pieces all over the floor.

“Are you okay back there?” asked the driver hesitantly, clearly hoping she wouldn’t respond. Or that she would say fine and leave it at that.

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