Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
“You’re up,” I whisper, taking in his features.
Even though it looks like he’s been awake a while, his features are still relaxed and flushed with sleep. His hair’s all messy — messier than usual — waves falling over his forehead with abandon. His mouth is softer than it’s ever looked before.
God, he’s beautiful.
“Thank you for the bath last night,” I whisper shyly, looking down to his throat. “I was so completely out of it that I didn’t get to —”
“Tell me how much.”
I lift my eyes then, noticing a frown marring his relaxed features. “It’s not —”
“Tell me how much it hurts.”
I know he isn’t going to like that answer.
But I also know that he isn’t going to let his go so I reply, going down to his throat again, “A little.”
His arm over me squeezes my waist in a silent command to look up. “How much is a little?”
I do look up but it’s not easy. “Not a lot.”
His jaw clenches. “Tempest.”
Now I frown. “Hey, you never call me by my name.”
“What?”
“You always call me Firefly,” I tell him.
“And?”
I keep frowning. “You calling me Tempest like that, all low and growly. Is that your way of telling me that I’m in trouble?”
His arm squeezes my waist again. “That’s my way of telling you to answer the fucking question.”
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone, Ledger,” I say, just to be difficult.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“You should if I’m going to be…”
The breath gets knocked out of me at what I was going to say.
The mother of your child.
I was going to say that.
And I have no right to, right?
I mean I still haven’t told him the truth. And I had so many opportunities last night to spill my guts. But I chose to hold my silence. All because I wanted to have sex with him. All because I knew that if I told him, he was going to put a stop it and quite possibly hate me forever.
And despite all that, I prayed for a baby last night.
I prayed that his seed will take root and that I do get to have a piece of him.
God, I’m so selfish.
He moves his arm from around my waist and slides it down to my stomach.
He settles his palm on my lower belly and splays his fingers wide, pressing the heel into my pelvis, making me arch up. Then, moving up on his elbow so he can lean over me, making himself my entire vision, “And you should tell me the truth if I’m going to be the father of your baby.” I flinch but he keeps going, “Which is going to happen, Tempest, isn’t it? I’m going to put a baby in your belly.” He digs his heel even more deeply into my soft flesh and my spine bows even more. “Right here. In this spot. This is where your womb is, isn’t it?”
“L-Ledger, I…”
Without easing the pressure, he rubs it, my pelvis, and oh my God, why does that make me all swollen down there?
Why does it make me rock my hips and press my thighs together?
“You know how big my dick is now, don’t you? Really. You know that if I put my mind to it, if I really fucking work for it, I can get it this high up. I can fucking get it this deep, right at your womb. And I can fill it up. I can fill it up with so much cum, Tempest, that you won’t be able to hold it. Like last night, I’ll run out of you like a river, smearing your thighs, pooling on the sheets. But it won’t matter, will it? Because whatever escapes, I’ll just put it back in. So I can still leave you full of me. Full of my dick, my cum, my fucking baby. So you better tell me the truth.”
I’m undulating at his words.
Rocking my hips up and down, twisting them side to side, even though I feel all sore and achy.
My arousal for him is bigger than any little discomfort lingering from last night.
My arousal seems even bigger than the problem at hand.
The truth.
I know he isn’t asking about the big bombshell of a truth that I’m hiding from him — he can’t, can he? — but it still feels like it. But instead of being smart and brave, like he told me last night I was, I whisper, “It… I hurt. Down there. It’s not as bad as it was last night but I do feel it. When I move too much.”
He watches me for a few seconds, something unreadable on his face.
Unreadable but harsh that makes him breathe out sharply.
It also makes his jaw all firm and set in stone almost.
Then, he gives me a sharp nod. “So then you’re not going to move.”