Page 70 of Ryder

My man smirks. “Why would I do that?” He helps me drink more coffee before setting the mug on the nightstand and settling between my thighs. He runs his hands up and down the sensitive skin between my legs, making my never-dormant pussy twitch with need. This man is going to get me pregnant if he hasn’t already.

Maybe I should be panicked. I never imagined myself pregnant at this stage of my life. I’m twenty-two. Until two weeks ago, I didn’t have a single prospect of a man. No one I would have given my virginity to lived in the county. And I certainly wouldn’t have married any of the men I know. I shudder, forcing myself not to think about Smith. He doesn’t belong in my bedroom.

Ryder keeps my feet planted on Earth every time he looks at me, his intense gaze reminding me I’m his world. He is also mine. So, if the man wants to have babies, we’re having babies. I can already picture him as a father. He will be amazing.

I’m also scared. I’m going to get huge and fat, and the idea of pushing a human out of me makes me panic. I bite my lip and clench my legs against his thighs at the thought.

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

I draw in a breath. He might as well know my fears. “I’m just thinking about how huge I’m going to get and wondering if you’re still going to find me attractive—and also worrying about pushing a human out of me.”

His face softens. His hands move to my breasts, cupping them reverently. “You will be so fucking sexy all round with my child. I won’t be able to take my eyes off you. And I’ll be right beside you when you give birth. You can squeeze my hand until it hurts.”

He has an answer for everything.

“What about the bakery? My parents need me. Now is not a great time for me to leave them in a lurch for a few weeks while I’m recovering from childbirth.” I have so many random concerns.

He pinches my nipples, making me arch into his palms.

“Ryder…”

He releases them and scoots closer. “I spoke to your parents about that, actually.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “You talked to my parents about me getting pregnant?”

“Well, not specifically that. I spoke to them about making sure they have the funds to hire more help. I’ve talked to Thomas about it, too. We have a lot of wiggle room with regard to the estate. Thomas has the power to dole out money however he wants, and he wants to turn this town around. We’ll be working with him to get every business back in the black and thriving. I’m hoping you’ll help me.”

This is an odd conversation to have while I’m spread open and restrained to the bedposts, but I focus on Ryder’s intensity. He hasn’t been this serious since we said, “I do.”

I lick my lips. “Help you how?”

“Help me run the estate and get the town what they need. I’d like you by my side. I want your input. I’m hoping you’ll take charge of several aspects of the town’s renovations.” He holds my gaze, swallowing.

It’s rare for him toaskme to do something instead of ordering me to. That’s what he’s doing. He’saskingme to work with him.

“You want me to quit at the bakery?”

He doesn’t look away. “If working at the bakery is your passion, I won’t stand in your way. Never. I always want you to do whatever fulfills you. I’ll support you in everything. But I don’t think that’s the case. I suspect you work for your parents because it’s expected, and you haven’t had other options.”

I’m soaking in his words. He’s right.

“What if someone else could work for the bakery and you joined me fixing the estate and the town?”

I stare at him, not looking away, thinking. My heart is pounding. I know he likes me with him all the time, but this is bigger than that. He’s asking me to be his partner.

“You’ll let me take over some aspects and manage them without interfering?”

He gives me a slow smile. He’s already delighted and hopeful. “Yes, baby. Always.”

“You won’t stick your nose in and argue with my decisions?”

“I promise.”

Could I work with him like he’s suggesting?

He cups my breasts again and teases my nipples with his thumbs, making it hard to think. He’s always going to do this. He likes to keep me a little off-kilter.

This is my life now. This man is my world. The thought of going into town to open the bakery at four in the morning every day is not appealing at all. He’s right. Making pastries is not my passion. Ryder is.

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