"Don't change the topic."
"Would I dare?" He glances down at me.
"Yes, you very much would dare." I frown, "What have you done Saint?"
"Nothing," he purses his lips, looking for all the world like an errant child. Why do I get the feeling my hands are going to be full with not one but two kids? The man in front of me often acts like one.
"Tell me," I scowl. "Remember what you said: no secrets."
He blows out a breath, "Why the hell did I promise you that, remind me?"
"Because you love me?"
He squares his shoulders. "Exactly. Which is why I had to do it."
"Do what?"
He tilts his head, "Don't freak out when you find out."
"What?" My heart begins to thud. "Out with it, Saint."
He rubs the back of his neck, a sure sign that whatever he's done is going to freak me out.
"It's only an air–ambulance," he mutters.
There's a whomp-whomp sound behind us and a breeze blows in through the open window.
I turn, and my jaw drops, "No."
He moves in, places his chin on my head, "I had to, babe."
I stare as an honest-to-goodness helicopter rises up beyond the infinity pool. I spot the sign of a red cross on the side that indicates it's used for medical purposes. It whirs over us, followed by a slight thump as vibrations roll down the walls. Did it land on the terrace of the townhouse? "Oh, my God," I turn to face him, "I can't believe you have a helicopter on stand-by."
"Maybe I can't control everything, but hell if I can't try to bring down the risk. This way, if there's an emergency, we can get to the closest hospital in under five minutes."
"I... I..." I open and close my mouth, "Only you'd do something so audacious."
"You're worth it, babe."
"You sound like a cheesy commercial."
He blinks, then chuckles, "I do, huh?" He lowers his forehead to mine, "That's what you do to me, darling. You've turned me into a blubbering shell of my former self."
"Hey," I swipe at his shoulder, "don't blame me for that. It's been barely twenty-four hours since you accepted your role as a father-to-be, and I can't believe you've already... Done all this."
"What?"
I wave my hand in the air, "You bought this townhouse on Primrose Hill—"
"I've had my eye on it."
"You had it furnished enough that we could move in right away."
He leans back, "Feel free to change anything you want."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"It's you." The waterworks threaten again. Shit, is it the hormones? Or is it the fact that, with Saint there to lean on, I finally feel secure enough to let go of all of my fears? In its place, there's a vulnerability that is new, that threatens to overwhelm me. That seduces me to simply melt into him and let him make all of the decisions. Hell! Is this what it means to be a real submissive? To have the onus of decision-making taken away from me? And why do I like that so much?
"Hey," he tips my chin up, "what is it?"
"You're overwhelming me, Saint."
"Ah," his lips quirk. He wipes away my tears, "And?"
" I like it.
"So?"
"I'm not sure if I want to."
"But you do," he smirks.
"I do?" I frown.
"Of course, my lovely Gigi. If you'd allow yourself to relax into the moment, you'd see that this is exactly what you need."
"B...but."
"Trust me, babe."
I peer up into his eyes. Do I dare put my faith in this alphahole of a dominant male, the father of my unborn child, who's changed his entire life for me overnight?
"I do," I whisper.
"Excuse me?" he frowns.
"I do trust you, more than myself. I believe in you so much that it hurts," my voice cracks.
His nostrils flare, "Do you have any idea what it does to me to hear that from you?"
He bends in close enough for our breaths to mingle, "You're mine, Gigi." He touches his lips to mine.
His touch sinks into my blood, coils in my belly.
"Promise me one more thing?" I whisper.
"Anything." He kisses me again.
"Promise you'll see a psychologist for the flashbacks and for the...scars?"
"You mean for my self-harming?" his voice is wry.
I peer up into his face. Hope blooms in my chest. The fact that he had called it by that term... That is the first step to recovery. It won't be easy, but as long as we are together, we can overcome any challenge.
"Will you?" I prompt him.
"For you," he searches my face, "if it makes you happy."
My heart does a little lurch, "It does." I smile up at him.
"And you make me happy, Gigi. Very happy." He crashes his lips to mine. I gasp and he swipes his tongue inside of my mouth—owning me, dominating me. I shiver, and his grasp tightens. He nibbles on my lower lip, and heat suffuses my skin. He rains kisses down my chin, my throat, down to the hollow between my breasts, on each nipple.
My scalp tingles and my toes curl. He drops to his knees in front of me, places a soft kiss on my belly. "Mine," he growls. A melting sensation pulls at my core. He drags his hard fingers down my thighs, coaxing them apart. My knees weaken; he grips my hips, holding me up. Then, through my dress, he nuzzles the triangle between my legs.
"Oh." Goosebumps dot my skin.
He inhales deeply and the sound is so erotic, so right, blood rushes to my lower belly. My pussy trembles. I dig my fingers into his hair and tug.
A low growl rumbles up his throat. The vibrations sink through the fabric of my outfit and warm my blood. I shiver, "Saint."
He presses his face into my pussy and a throbbing flares to life—hot, aching. My bones seem to melt all at once.
"Saint," I plead.
He slips his fingers under my
