I allow myself a moment to just breathe before I head back out onto the main floor. The desk is empty when I walk back to it, but Theo flicks his gaze up the moment I climb onto the stool. I flash him a smile I really don’t feel and pick my sketchbook back up.
By the time I get home, I’m a ball of nerves. I’m not scared Jensen will be angry at me, but I wanted to give him goodnews. How do I tell him that the thing he wants the most hasn’t happened this month?
I’m sitting on the couch with my sketchbook open, but I’m not drawing. I haven’t moved since I got home.
Anxiety crawls under my skin when I hear the front door open and then close. I fiddle with the hem of my hoodie—one I stole from his closet. The one I always wear when I feel bad.
As soon as he steps into the room, I feel his presence. I don’t look. I can’t.
“Hey, baby.”
Jensen sounds so happy to see me, and I’m going to ruin his mood. I turn my head away, swiping at a tear rolling down my cheek.
He rounds the couch and freezes. “Mia? Hey, sweetheart.” His broad chest fills my vision as he crouches in front of me, his hands going to my knees. His touch is warm, grounding, everything I need—usually. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I hate I even have to say the words, but I give them anyway. “I got my period.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I can’t look at him. I can’t bear to see his face. He gently grabs my chin, forcing my head toward him. His brows are heavy, drawn together. “You want me to run you a bath?”
I try to hold back my sob. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it’s not that. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses the side of my face. “No, don’t do that. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His mouth moves along my jaw, like he’s proving his love with his touch.
“I really thought it would happen this time,” my voice wobbles, “and I know it’s only been a short time since I came off birth control, but I just thought it’d be easier than this.”
Especially considering how much sex we’re having.
“It just means another month of trying,” he says, calm and rational, “and fucking my beautiful wife is hardly a chore.” He stands slowly, holding his hands out to me. I let him pull me to my feet. “Bath first, and then I’ll order Thai from that place you like.”
I bury my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around him. “I wanted it to happen.”
His nose drags through my hair like he’s coating himself in my scent, like he’s trying to climb inside my smell. I burrow into his arms as they cocoon me in his love and safety.
“It will,” he promises, his voice low and rough. “I’m not stopping until it does.” His hand spreads over my belly, bloated, tender, not yet holding what we both ache for. “This body was made to carry me, Mia. To carry us.” He kisses me, slow and deep, moving with the same devotion he’s always shown me. He doesn’t allow me a moment to feel like I failed him. “I love you with every breath in my body. You’re my wife. My soul.”
I let out a trembling sigh. I didn’t know how much I need to hear that until he said it. “I love you too.”
His thumb traces possessive circles just beneath my naval. Touching me like I’m already pregnant, like he’s seeing a future we haven’t yet written. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to get you pregnant. I’ll fuck you every hour of every day until my seed takes. I’ll fill you so full you’ll be bulging with it.” His voice dips lower. “And then I’ll kiss every inch of you while you grow our future inside you.”
My cheeks heat. What the hell do I say to that? I swallow, then steady myself against him. “Jensen.”
He brushes my hair behind my ear, so soft. So caring. “I don’t want you to worry about this, sweetheart. It’ll happen. Now, bath, then food.”
I let out a breath, because I believe him. Because Jensen Rivers gets what he wants, and so do I.
FIVE
MIA
“You’re ovulating.”
I blink slowly as Jensen rounds the bed, clutching his phone like it’s a guidebook for when to fuck your wife.
I do some quick mental math. It’s been just under five days since I finished my period.
Am I ovulating?“How do you even know that?”
“I’m tracking it.” He says it without a hint of awkwardness, as if monitoring my menstruation is normal. “You have a twenty-eight-day cycle—” I don’t even want to ask how he knows that either “—which means you’re entering your fertile period now. According to the app, your predicted ovulation date won’t be for another five days, but sperm can survive for three to five days in the uterus, so if we start now, we should hit the right window.”
