Page 101 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

A storm of thoughts rushes through my mind as I try to find the right words. It doesn’t take long for me to realize I want this. Deeply. I want a child with her.

But I have to tread carefully. I need to make her stop crying without sounding like a selfish bastard. She was clear about not wanting kids.

“A new life is always a blessing,” I begin gently, reaching out to pull her into my arms.

She stands, crying less now. “I know. I’m not rejecting my baby.”

“Ourbaby.”

“Yes,ourbaby. But now we’ll be connected forever.”

We already were,I think, but keep it to myself. “If you want this too, what’s wrong?”

“Promise me something: you’ll never take our child away from me.”

So that’s why she didn’t want to get pregnant? She thought I’d do what her father did?

It makes me sick to even imagine that she could believe I’d act like that bastard Arif. But I force myself to remember she’s speaking from her own trauma.

“You have my word,” I say softly, “our child will grow up by your side.”

Because I’ll never let either of you go,I add in silence.

Three days later

The same day we arrived, I personally went to a pharmacy in the village. I didn’t want the guards to know about the possibility of a baby on the way. They’re loyal, but you can never be too careful. I don’t want the news spreading to the world before our families hear it.

I bought half a dozen pregnancy tests, and my good girl took them all—laughing at me each time the result appeared.

Yes, I might have overdone it, but Adeela refused to see a doctor during our honeymoon, so I needed my reassurance.

Positive. Every single one.

And me, the man who thought he didn’t want to be a father, can’t stop thinking that in a few months, we’ll have a child. A piece of her and me, blessing our union.

We’ve just come back from a picnic. Hours of pure peace, good food, and lying together under a tree.

There must be a biological explanation for the joy I feel watching her eat, knowing she’s nourishing our baby too.

We’ve been talking a lot, but also having wild, sweaty sex. She’s bolder every time, driving me insane with her teasing. Greedy, shameless, waking me in the middle of the night with her warm mouth around me.

No matter how many times I have her, I always want more. My hunger for her body has no end, but my need for her soul tells me she’s myforever.

I smile when I think about how our marriage couldn’t be further from a marriage of convenience, the way the magazines framed it back when we got engaged—which, by the way, had been my initial intention.

But what’s convenient about having my wife occupying every second of my thoughts? About the memory of her taste and her screams when she comes giving me a hard-on in the middle of my workday?

That reminds me that we haven’t “christened” every room yet. So far, we’ve only used the suite, dining room, and kitchen table.

I lift her in my arms and start climbing the stairs, a plan already forming in my mind.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you on a tour of the castle.”

“I can walk,” she says, but she wraps her arms around my neck anyway. “Besides, aren’t you a few days late?”

“I know you can walk, but I like carrying you,ayuni. And I’m late because of our insatiable desire. I can’t keep my hands off you, and finding out you’re carrying our child only made me want you even more.”