Page 98 of Desperate Actions

“Oh, yeah. She’s always wanted to be a grandma.”

Something tightens in my chest.

“This is her big chance.”

She freezes.

Like she just realized what she said.

Like the words slipped out without her permission, and now she’s backpedaling in her mind, trying to shove them back down.

“Oh, um?—”

She can try, but it’s no good. I heard them.

Fuck me—I felt them.

I should laugh it off, should let her squirm, should give her an out so she doesn’t get too in her own head about it.

But I don’t.

Because my own brain short-circuits at the thought, at the mere idea of Aella carrying my child.

Of her belly, round and full with our baby.

Of her walking around this house—our home—pregnant, glowing, knowing she’s mine in every possible way.

I want it.

I want it so bad I can taste it. The image takes all my breath from my lungs. And makes my cock hard as steel.

I don’t react right away.

I’m too lost in the image.

Too blindsided by how much I fucking love the idea of putting a baby inside her.

So when I finally manage to say something, my voice is lower than normal, thick with something raw, something undeniable.

“Well, uh?—”

I clear my throat, dragging a hand through my hair, trying to get my shit together.

Trying not to just bend her over the seat and start making good on that vision right now.

“We’ll have to do what we can so she gets to be a grandma then.”

Aella inhales sharply.

Her cheeks flush pink, her lips parting slightly, and she looks up at me like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or run.

Because she hears it too.

The promise in my voice.

The absolute fucking certainty.

Her breathing picks up, and I can see the panic setting in, the way she’s processing my words, trying to figure out if I’m joking, if I mean it, if she’s allowed to want the same thing.

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