Page 226 of Mile High Ruin

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

My heart turns over.

I hate it.

I hate how easily tenderness becomes a trap with him. How quickly my body forgives what my mind is still trying to survive. How one gentle touch can make me forget every locked door, every guarded hallway, every truth he has withheld because he thinks keeping me safe matters more than letting me choose.

The room feels too small suddenly.

His hand comes back to my stomach, his palm settling over our daughter again. I know he means to comfort me. I know he does. But I look at his hand and all I can think is that he touches us like we belong to him.

Maybe we do.

Maybe that’s exactly why I need to move.

“I need some air,” I say.

His gaze sharpens immediately. “I’ll call someone.”

“No.” I sit up a little straighter, adjusting my dress with hands that are not as steady as I want them to be. “I need a few minutes alone.”

His expression closes by degrees.

“Sloane,” he says, softly, “I know you’re upset.”

“I’m overwhelmed.”

“With me.”

I look at him then. Really look. At the silver hair, the tired eyes, the beautiful brutal face of the man I love more than is sensible. The man who can be so gentle with my body and so ruthless with my life. The man who has learned how to touch me without hurting me but still has not learned how to let me breathe.

“Yes,” I whisper. “With you.”

He absorbs that without flinching, but something in his eyes changes.

“I will walk with you.”

“No.”

“The guard will walk with you.”

“I said alone.”

“You are seven months pregnant.”

“I know how pregnant I am, Vadim.”

“And I know what waits outside rooms when I’m careless.”

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then I push myself up from the bed, slower than I want to, one hand braced on the mattress and the other under my belly. Vadim rises instantly, reaching for me, and I lift my hand before he can touch me.

He stops.

That tiny obedience almost breaks my heart.

“I’m not running,” I say, though it feels like a lie. “I’m walking down a hallway.”