“I do,” I say.
Her breath catches. A sob escapes, raw and sharp, and she buries her face in my chest again, shaking in my arms.
"You're not mad?" she asks, her voice small. “I just… I don’t want to be a complication.”
I stare at her.
Her face is open and vulnerable in the candlelight. She’s not trying to manipulate me. She’s trying to protect me.
From her.
It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“Erica,” I say, my voice low. “You think I want an easy life?”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide.
“I want a life that matters,” I continue. “Once that's worth the effort. I want a life that’s real. A life with you. A family. With you. You’re not a complication. You’re the whole damn thing.”
She looks up at me, her tear-streaked face filled with a fragile hope.
"Erica, I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been for a while now. This baby isn't a complication. It's a gift. Our gift."
A single tear rolls down her cheek.
"You love me?" she whispers.
"I do," I say. "So much it feels like a liability sometimes."
Her lips curve into a watery smile.
"I love you, too," she whispers, her fingers tightening on my shirt. "Even when you're a monster."
"Good," I say, and my voice goes dark and dangerous. "Because you were not going to get very far if you didn't." I kiss her again, slow and deep, possessing her with my lips and my tongue. She melts against me, her body soft and pliant in my arms.
"You and this baby," I murmur, "belong to me. And don't you forget it."
She shivers in pleasure, and I already know how wet and achy she is by the way she's straining against me.
"Now," I say softly against her lips. "Let's eat."
"Hmm?" She's practically melting into me, making me smile in smug satisfaction at the way she so easily succumbs to my touch.
I indulge for another minute before I give her a hard smack in the ass, making her jump and yelp.
"I said let's eat. You're eating for two now," I say, my eyes glinting with mischief. "And I have a feeling my baby is going to be just as hungry as her mother."
Her eyes are still full of desire as she tries to shift gears.
"Eat? Eat what?" she asks as I guide her back to the table.
"Sit," I command.
I gesture to David, and he walks out with a covered dome.
Erica looks at me, her head cocked to the side, her curiosity piqued when David sets the platter down.
"Nico," she starts, but I cut her off with a look.
