Page 49 of The Beast of London & His Pet

“I think we both know I’m no angel,” I scoffed.

“You're,myangel,” he stressed before walking towards me, kneeling and rubbing his cheek over my belly. “Any sickness today?”

“Yes,” I said with a grimace. “I had to cook with a scarf wrapped around my face.”

His face darkened and before he went off on one I covered his mouth with my hand.

“I enjoy cooking for you, Alessio. It makes me happy,” I said softly, for all my moaning about being pregnant he was present and always helping me in the ways that counted.

I would never be a married single mother with how attentive he was, and when he wasn’t working from home or home on the weekends, Rocco was on hand. A cleaner came four times a week, leaving me with cooking and shopping duties. It was a far cry from my three jobs.

His face softened and he stood up, kissing my forehead before slipping his hand into mine.

“Tu sei il mio tesoro,” he said rubbing my belly before kissing me.You are my treasure.

I melted into his touch, even with my protruding belly, he made me feel like the sexiest woman on earth. His lips pressed lightly against mine, kissing me softly before his hands gripped my ass and he slipped his tongue into me. I volleyed my tongue against his, clutching his shirt as my pussy clenched in anticipation. My panties were damp within seconds.

He pulled back and slid his hand into mine before he tugged it and led me behind him. When we reached our bedroom Ireached to my side to unzip my dress. He didn’t hesitate to pull it off me before inspecting my bump.

“The baby looks bigger today,” he said before leaning over to unhook my bra.

“We have the scan this week. They will check that everything is as it should be,” I said with a smile.

“How would you feel about your grandparents living with us?” he asked, pulling my bra down my arms while I stared at him, flabbergasted at his words.

To have them live with us would be a dream come true for me, but could Alessio cope with Nonno?

“I would love that, but would you?” I asked, my voice laced with scepticism.

“Of course, I would. We have an eight bedroom house, Kitten. There is plenty of space. They are in their twilight years and I want our children to know both sides of their family.”

My vision blurred as tears welled up before rolling down my cheeks. The damn hormones and my sweet husband were a lethal combination.

???

I placed a hand over his forehead, but it didn't feel warm, I ran my fingers through his hair, checking for grey, when I found none, I concluded that he wasn't going senile. He was staring at me with an arched eyebrow.

“What are you checking me for, Kitten?”

“Have you been diagnosed with something? A rare incurable disease?” I asked tapping my cheek wondering what was happening.

“No, why would you think that?” he asked with a frown.

I leaned back on the headboard to contemplate life’s mysteries.

“You want to go to church before we visit my mother’s grave?” I asked, making sure I heard him correctly. “Likeinsidethe church, right?”

He turned to face me and had the audacity to roll his eyes at me.

“You the Beast of London, body chopper, allegedly,” I said, seeking clarification.

“Get your pillows and go to sleep,” he said, his voice as sulky as a toddler's.

I giggled and slipped my arms around his waist, he automatically did the same, sighing before he pushed my head on his chest.

“I made a promise when we were looking for you, Kitten,” he said quietly, resting his chin on my head.

God, why was he always making me cry?

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