Page 23 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“What do you mean?” he quipped, loving the glint of humor back in her eyes.

“I mean it was that time—” she pointed behind him to the exquisite velvet chaise longue “—on that very couch that got us here.”

It had been when he’d returned from a work trip.

He smiled, remembering how he’d arranged her on her knees and arms, pert bottom sticking up in the air, panties locking her ankles. How she’d squirmed and gasped when he’d situated his face below her. And then when he’d finished feasting on her, he’d asked if he could have her without a condom.

Boneless and sated, she’d relented easily enough. And he had nearly blacked out from his climax.

“Don’t blame this on me,cara. You were on the pill,si?”

“Yes, but it’s not 100 percent guaranteed.”

“So this could have happened even if I hadgloved up.”

“Fine. The two of us together got us here,” she said, stepping back. Her gaze landed on his chest and skidded away.

Another ray of sunshine then, he thought, his skin prickling with heat at her sneaky perusal. This desire between them was as strong as it had ever been. That, and the pregnancy were more than enough to work with. For now.

“I have something for you,” he said, refusing to put on the shirt she handed him.

The storm had abated outside, bright sunlight now filtering in through the high windows. Strands of it caught the gold in her brown hair and painted golden every inch of her skin left bare by the loose sleeveless sweater. He frowned at the makeshift crop top that had been cut haphazardly at the hem.

And then he understood why it hung loose over her neck and under her arms. It was his sweater that she had ripped beyond recognition. A flicker of warmth came alive in his chest.

Between the hem of the crop top and her linen pants, the swell of her bare belly was such a shocking sight that he stared, arrested. Children had always been such a vague, alien concept to him. And when he’d been confronted by it, all he’d known was shock and pain that she hadn’t told him, that he’d driven her away at such a fragile time.

But this…very physical sight of her made it real in a way he hadn’t understood until now.

His fingers itched to touch her, to feel the swell, to know the wonder even more keenly. Instead, he fisted them by his sides, resolving to do so only when she invited him.

There were certain things he wanted from her, wanted her to need from him, and that would never change.

“And here I thought you had come by because you know I’m terrified of storms,” Nyra said with a self-deprecation that brought his head up.

“Two things could be true, Nyra.” He meant to win this battle between them—for it was one—and he wasn’t going to give away anything for free.

Hehadrushed here, walked out of a meeting with his board, because of the storm and what it would do to her. “Or three things, actually,” he said, casually consulting his phone.

“What do you mean?” she said, her earlier wariness retreating.

“I saw the storm. I also knew that you had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. And I came to return something that is yours to you.”

A flash of longing swept through her eyes before she chased it off. “You’re a busy man, and there will be a lot of these appointments. You don’t need to attend every single one.”

“Your…consideration is appreciated but not needed. I said I will be there.”

“Okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around her midriff. “What did you want to give me?”

“When you ask it like that, I have to say, a lot of things,bella. But I’ll wait until you ask me for it. No, maybe until you beg me.”

Pink chased up her neck and cheeks, even as she straightened her shoulders. “I will never beg. For anything. From you.”

“We shall see,” he said, covering the gap she kept putting between them.

When he brought out the velvet box, her whimper was so soft that it cut him. She’d picked the smallest of the lot the designer had presented to them, not knowing that its exquisite cut and clarity made it worth tens of thousands of euros.

“I can put it on,” she said, her chest rising and falling. Something danced in her gaze. An eagerness tinged with desperation.

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