Page 195 of The Billionaire's Secret
"You know that’s not what I mean."
He pulls away and the cold air swoops over me. Damn it, why do I miss his presence already?
"I swore never to bring any child into the world—to allow myself to become that vulnerable, to imagine what could happen if he or she was kidnapped and kept hostage..." His entire body tightens, "If any child of mine had to go through what I did, I swear, I’d kill anyone and everyone who’d harm a hair on their head."
I stiffen, sweep my gaze over his face, "Is that what you’re afraid of? Being vulnerable?"
"Not being able to protect my child from the world. That’s my worst nightmare."
"You protected me, didn’t you?"
"I allowed you to get kidnapped on my watch." He scowls.
"You found me didn't you?" I half smile. "I bet you watched me every hour of the day and night to ensure I was safe."
"And still, he managed to get his hands on you."
He doesn’t deny it then. I am not sure how that makes me feel. Cared for? Creeped out? Both? And turned on? To be the focus of someone’s attention to the exclusion of anything else… Is there any other feeling in the world that can equal that absolute single-minded intensity of his gaze?
"You saved me." I grab his hand and press it to my belly, "You saved both of us."
He squeezes his eyes shut, "Stop trying to make me into some kind of hero. I’m the kind of monster you should stay away from!"
"Oh?" I bite the inside of my cheek, "Who would you rather see me with, Saint?"
He growls.
"Who’s the man for me? Who do you think can protect me the way you can? Who’d watch over me like my own protective guardian angel, and ensure he was there each and every turn so nothing ever touched me?"
His nostrils flare.
"Tell me, Saint."
"Me," he growls, "Only I can do this. I trust myself for this job, no one else."
I chuckle.
He glowers, "Don’t think you’ve won this argument."
"No?" I tip up my chin.
He shakes his head, "We’re just getting started, Gigi."
He grabs up the cotton ball, then helps me out of my shirt and dabs antiseptic on the scratch on my arm. I hiss and he bends his head and blows on the wound.
Goosebumps rise on my skin.
"Cold?"
"No." I watch as he straightens, then tosses the cotton into the dustbin. He rips open a bandage, and sticks it over the wound. "It’s the best I can do, until I can get a doctor to come in and check you out."
"I’m fine."
He drops the sticky paper from the bandage into the waste basket then straightens, "Humor me."
"But-"
"If not me, for the baby."
