Page 35 of Saffron and Secrets

“Ohhh.” The mix of her moans and the sound of our skin slapping each other in her kitchen is beyond any of my wildest dreams. There’s a passion so strong that I don’t know if I can hold back any longer. I lean over and grip the counter with one hand, but I leave the other still gripping her hip while I thrust deep into her. She grabs on to my shoulder, and I hope I can hold on long enough to feel her orgasm on me.

I thrust hard a few more times before I lean back and grab one leg, lifting it onto my shoulder. I push inside her again, and at this angle, I hit in deeper.

The way she tightens around me causes me to grunt. “Fuck. Please tell me you’re close. I—”

“I’m close.”

Thank fuck!

I thrust harder, and I’m holding back with everything I can. My body sweats, causing her leg to slip, but I hold it with my hand and thrust.

I can’t hold on any longer. I groan as the orgasm hits, and she moans, and the way her muscles contract, I know she is too.

I continue to fuck her until she’s spent and then I lower her leg and scoop her off the counter and whisper, “Where’s your room?”

Her head stays burrowed in the crook of my shoulder. She points, and I follow her into a simple modern bedroom. It’s fresh, calm and so her.

I pull back the white covers and lie her down and kiss her lips and say, “I’ll be back.”

I discard the condom in the bathroom and slip into the bed beside her. She snuggles into my chest. The feeling is so heavenly. I know I’ll have the best damn sleep tonight; after all, she’s here, safe.

And mine.

All mine.

17

Ruby

Five weeks later

I push the red meat around my plate, trying not to vomit. I’m swallowing the excess saliva that’s building in my mouth, trying to eat, but I’m so damn nauseated. We’re at his parents’ place for dinner. Since we started dating, John and his parents have been slowly repairing their relationship. It’s still a work in progress but with our new Sunday night tradition it’s moving in the right direction. I usually love our weekly catch-up, however tonight, all I want to do is bail.

“Ruby, is everything all right? You look pale and you haven’t eaten much,” Monica asks with a wrinkle between her brows.

I swallow hard, pushing the bile back into my stomach. I muster up a fake smile and then say with a slight wobble in my voice, “Yes, Mrs. Black. I’m fine, just lost in thought, sorry.”

With her cutlery poised in her hands, she leans forward, wearing a worried expression for a moment before her face softens and she says, “First, please call me Monica. My last name makes me feel old. And I hope everything is okay. Is it your grandmother or work troubles?”

I blink and peer down at my plate for a second. What the hell do I say to that? Both would be a lie, but I’ll have to say a little white lie until I figure out what’s really wrong with me.

I clear my throat and glance back up at her face. John grabs my hand and squeezes it, pulling my gaze to him.

“I’m fine. Just work, that’s all. It’s a bit busy, and I’m just thinking I might need a break soon.”

John makes a sound in his throat and whispers, “That sounds amazing.”

And I stop the blush from creeping on my face by looking at his mom and reminding myself where we are. I know what John’s holiday plan would involve and normally I’d be on his lap asking for a taste, but right now, between being at dinner at his parents’ and the nausea rolling in my gut, I couldn’t think of anything worse right about now.

A few hours later, I’m pacing my bathroom, holding a damn pregnancy stick I picked up yesterday. Waiting three minutes feels like forever. The pain in my chest is excruciating. This is too soon…

Does he want a baby?

Will he be happy?

I can’t even imagine how he’ll react. I haven’t processed the idea; I can’t allow myself to believe it’s true until I see the positive line for myself.

Then, and only then, will I decide how I’ll break the news.

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