Page 99 of Desperate Actions

But I do mean it.

And fuck yes, she’s allowed to want it.

Because I want it.

I want her.

I want a life with her.

A future.

A family.

And if her mom wants to be a grandma?

Then hell, we’d better get started.

I tighten my grip on her hand, my gaze never leaving hers.

She swallows hard, her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, and I can’t help but think about how fucking beautiful she’d look pregnant with my kid.

How she’d moan as her body changed, how I’d hold her every night, make sure she knew how goddamn perfect she was to me.

How I’d spend every single day worshipping her, taking care of her, making her feel cherished.

And how, even after, I’d never be able to stop.

Because Aella is mine.

And one day she’s going to give me the family I never knew I needed.

She clears her throat, shifting in her seat like she’s desperately trying to ignore the tension in the air.

Like she’s not about to combust from the weight of my stare.

“You’re—you’re not serious.”

I arch a brow.

“Aren’t I?”

She stares at me, eyes wide, and I can tell she doesn’t know whether she wants me to be joking or not.

But she knows.

She knows.

She just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

So I lean in, close enough to brush my lips against her ear, my voice a deep rasp of pure intent.

“Anytime you’re ready, Pixie.”

Then I kiss the spot right below her ear, where her pulse is thrumming wildly, and sit back.

Watching.

Waiting.

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