Page 46 of Graciously His

I watch her hands clench into fists at her sides. Someday, she might just lose herself and smack me.

I’ll be ready for it.

For now, I decide to soothe her.

“Now,” I continue, “tell me what you need to feel like you’ve got some control over the situation.”

Her shoulders descend a little, her spine loosening. I try not to look pleased. She’s unhappy, but she’s not running.

“I need privacy,” she whispers.

I nod towards the bathroom. “Every time you’ve wanted privacy, you’ve had it. You had time on your own this morning. A walk with a new friend. A doctor’s appointment, up until the final bit.”

“I need my phone and my journal to be private. And my laptop, when it gets here.”

I nod, considering. “If you want to keep me out of your phone and bullet journal, you’ll need to do two things. One, keep your mother blocked. Two, use a shared fertility app.”

I see her shiver, and her eyes drop to the bed. “Why do you need to track my fertility?”

I note that she doesn’t contest my need to track her contact with the Munchausen bitch.

“Remember when I told you the basics had to be covered?” She nods, her lips parted slightly, cheeks flushing with something that straddles the line between embarrassed and aroused. “Your fertility is one of the basics. If I don’t know what’s going on with your cycle, I won’t know which parts of you to prepare. Now, I don’t mind the idea of putting a baby in your belly, but I know you do, so I need to keep track.”

“You’re talking about it like,” she swallows, and I lean in to trace the moving line of her throat with one finger, “like we’re—”

“Like we’re married. Which we are. You need to accept it and act accordingly. I know I will.”

I pull her closer, nibbling the spot I traced until she gasps, her hands on my chest, pushing at me even as she sways into my arms.

“I’m not your wife,” she whispers. “I never agreed.”

“And you’ll never have to.” I nip at the curve of her shoulder. “So that’s settled. We’ll share a fertility app and I’ll stay out of your bullet journal. As for the spyware,” I cup her ribs, one hand on each side, stabilising her as her knees go weak, “why not let me stand digital guard for you, like the good husband I am?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers, more of her weight filling my hands as her breaths turn heavy.

“Then the spyware stays until you ask to renegotiate. I’ll take care of your phone from afar. And your laptop, once it’s here. We’ll be beautifully synced up, my love.”

“I don’t trust you,” she whispers, even as she stops trying to lean away from me. “Not one bit.”

I consider her words as I slip the buttons of her tunic open, revealing the dip of her sternum.

“That’s all right,” I murmur between kisses, “because now I get to teach you exactly what trusting me means.”

Seams pop as I force the tunic out of my way, pulling her bra down. Her protests die when I cover her lips with my hand, just as I take her breast into my mouth.

Chapter 20

Grace

Nate is holding me tight, his hand over my mouth as I moan. My body is yielding already, heat pumping through me as his lips fasten on my breast. He sucks hard, making me pant against his palm, my mind blanking. It’s a thorough distraction, so much so that I hardly notice him pulling at my leggings, insistent fingers trailing over my underwear. I turn my face to the side, gasping before I speak.

“Nate, please.” I swallow when his fingers pause at the juncture between my thigh and pussy. “I’m still sore and—and you know I’m in my fertile window.”

“True.” He straightens up, meeting my eyes in the low light. “What will you offer me instead, Grace?”

The question is so outlandish that I give a scoff. “I have nothing else. And I’m tired and—”

“And you’re already soaking these pretty panties I bought you,” he finishes, his fingers tracing the dampening edge. “You can pretend you don’t want this in a second, love. For now, we need to talk things over. This,” he cups me gently, “is off-limits until you’re ready to carry my baby. So where should I go instead?”