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The sound of our bodies slapping against one another was ridiculously loud to my ears, and my eyes slid closed as the most intense orgasm built. He was going to make me come hard. I shivered in anticipation of it, craving it.

My moans bounced off his walls as I couldn’t hold back. My pussy squeezed him as he pounded me. I knew he was close by the way his growl came out, and our eyes locked.

His were glazed over and his mouth moved as my name came out in little pleas, almost. Simultaneously, we came together in a beautiful moment. Everything from before faded into the background, and it was just the two of us.

I collapsed on top of his chest as he rubbed my back. His cock twitched inside me and his cum leaked out in a warm rush, coating us both. I shivered at the feel of his finger and the pattern he drew.

“I really needed that,” I muttered, dusting the lion with soft kisses.

“Me, too,” he replied with a tight hug.

It was desperate, almost, the way his arms clung to me, and I never wanted him to let go. I loved this man with my whole heart.

“God, why do I love your cum so much? It’s so different when you fuck me without a condom.”

He chuckled and pushed me back so he could look into my eyes. “Because my cum belongs inside you. Whether it’s sliding down your throat,” he said, as his finger did a slow crawl down my throat. “Or leaking out of your tight pussy.” Naturally, he had to trace that too, even though his cock was still snug inside me. “And don’t get me started on the fact, I’ve been dying to take this.” His hands went around and wrapped around my ass briefly.

My eyes widened. “You want that? I don’t know…” I gulped, blinking wildly.

He chuckled once more. “You should resign yourself to the fact that I want all of you, Isabella. I know we have some things to work out, and I’ll support you no matter what, but please don’t ask me to stay away.”

“I don’t want that either. But what about—”

“What part of I’ll support you no matter what you do, do you not understand? Just promise me that one day, when you’re ready…” His voice broke and his eyes shifted up to the ceiling. He cleared his throat, and I hated that my decision was breaking him.

I shifted, going to move. His grip on my hips tightened, and his tear-filled eyes were once more boring into mine. His fingers caressed my stomach. His hand lingered there. The movement was so gentle it hurt.

He spoke again. “I know this isn’t an easy decision for you. But maybe one day, when it is, and the time is right.”

I nodded as he wiped the tears from my face with a gentleness that broke me. Once more, I collapsed onto him and sobbed my heart out.

7 Weeks Later

I turned sideways in front of the mirror. For the third time. Possibly the fourth. I couldn’t keep track any more. My hand drifted across my stomach. Nothing looked different. Yet everything felt different. The contradiction was insane.

A few months ago, I could have stood in front of this exact mirror and never given my midsection a second thought. Now, I damn near analyzed everything about it. The loose sweater I’d pulled on was suddenly too warm.

I tugged at the neckline and blew out a slow breath. Today was my second appointment. Fourteen and a half weeks. That was how far along I was. The process hadn’t been difficult so much as exhausting.

Consultations, questions, and conversations about my options. Every professional I’d spoken with had made sure to reiterate that the decision was mine and mine alone to make.

All that remained was to choose the date. I hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. That ended today. Everything had become harder with each passing day. The nausea. The exhaustion. Watching Pasha pretend he wasn’t hurting.

He was too good to me. My lion never pushed or tried to change my mind. Instead, he brought me crackers when my stomach refused anything else. He kept me hydrated, always appearing with a bottle of water before I realized I needed one.

More than once, he’d held my hair back while I was sick, rubbing slow circles across my back and pretending not to notice when I cried afterward. The man was a saint. He simply…showed up.

Every time I looked at him, I saw the future he wanted reflected back at me. Yet somehow he continued to love me through the uncertainty of it all. Living with this secret grew heavier with each passing week.

I’d promised Pasha after the procedure that we would come clean with everyone. It was likely that we’d need each other emotionally, anyway. And God knew he deserved it.

The most ridiculous part of all of this was what the hormones had done to my libido. If anything, the heaviness of the last seven weeks should have killed it. Instead, some sort of feral creature had taken up residence in me. Pasha was entirely too pleased about that development.

Morning, noon and night. I craved that man’s cock. I’d be mid tattoo and have the intense need to rush next door. We’d almost been caught several times. That only heightened my cravings.

Then, when I wasn’t behaving like a nymphomaniac, I was Kinsley 2.0. Every damn thing had the waterworks flowing. A week ago, Marcus brought me and Kinsley lunch. Innocent enough. He did it every Tuesday.

Except I’d texted him a new order: a cheese toastie. The poor man stood in the doorway to my office holding two turkey clubs, and I lost it. Kinsley thought it was just my time of the month.