Page 10 of Baby Proposal
Get on with it. That is not how I want her to experience us together.
And I can see how this could disintegrate. This smart plan could be as bleak as London drizzle in January before I know it. We have sex, once, today. She doesn’t enjoy it because she’s far too tense, but she gets pregnant. Then she keeps six feet from me at all times for two years of fake marriage that bleeds me to death with a billion papercuts before disappearing with my heart and my child at the end of our agreement.
Well done, Rhys, fantastic idea. Eleven out of ten for screwing this up.
I sit down and lean back on the sofa. “I was thinking the opposite, actually.”
Panic flares across her face. “You don’t want to do it anymore. But you said—”
“No, I’m not backing out.” I reach out and touch her arm to reassure her and hold her down. She looks as though she might bolt at any second.
Her skin is warm and smooth but it’s like she’s made of electricity. There’s lightning between us.
Is this…? Yes. I think this is the first time we’ve ever touched and she seems to feel the significance too, gaze snapping to where my thumb is brushing over the downy pale hairs of her forearm without my say so. Acting on instinct.
I should move, relinquish my hold. But I don’t. I might never let her away from me again.
“Oh. Right.” Her voice is breathy. “What do you mean then?” Her chest is rising and falling quickly, and there’s a tinge of pink over her neck.
She said yes to the usual way of getting her pregnant. She seems relieved I’m not changing my mind. Perhaps this isn’t as one-sided as I’ve always believed?
“You’ll get pregnant more easily if you’re comfortable.”
Her expression goes wary. Admittedly that opinion is not based on facts. It’s entirely spurious.
And though she knows that as well as I do, she nods. “Makes sense.”
“And if I haven’t come recently. If I store it up for you.” Good, this at least has some science behind it. See, I can think when she’s around. A bit.
“When did you last…” She visibly steels herself. “Have sex?”
Oh, is she jealous? Yes. Good. My little tigress has nothing to worry about on that count. The moment we met I was hers. I haven’t been with anyone since, and I’m as territorial as she is.
“The question you want to ask is when did I last stroke my cock until I came.”
Her cheeks gain two pink spots again. “Yes.”
“This morning.” Thinking of her. I have to take the edge off before I see my little assistant.
“Okay. So, if we’re not starting today, should I go home?”
“No,” I snap. I like that word at the moment. Seems to be effective too, as she looks up at me with those matcha-tea eyes wide.
“We’re not having sex today,” I clarify. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not doing anything.”
“Oh.”
“We need to be a convincing couple for the get together I told you about,” I say gently. “If you won’t touch me, or if you’re scared of me, no one will believe us.”
“I’m not scared of you,” she blusters, but there’s a thread of fear in it. She is a little afraid. She can sense the wolf under the sheepskin I’ve donned.
“You don’t have to be. I’d burn the world down before I saw you suffer any pain at all.”
She swallows and for a second I think she’s going to shift away. “Well, I’d better get a memo out about everyone buying fire extinguishers, because I’m led to believe childbirth is a bit ouchy.”
Laughter bursts out of me. And that’s when I know, for sure, that she’ll be my bride. She has a wicked sense of humour, my girl.
“Come here and put your hands on me. Just to practise.”
