Elexia
Well, he’s right. I can’t walk. But I don’t need to.
My face lights up when Liam brings me a light dinner since I gorged myself on brunch earlier, along with chocolate-covered strawberries.
One of my favorite parts of the night was when he fucked me against the shelves until my dark romance novels rained down around us, spines cracking, pages splaying. It was ceremonial. Like the fictional men I’d once worshiped were now kneeling, conceding the throne to the one and only Liam Donovan.
My ass is still smoldering, but he took “well care of it” in his words with healing oils. Of course, he treated me to a full body massage.
“You know, you can’t spoil me like this every day,” I remark, cutting into the wedge of some golden, griddled goodie.
He kisses my cheek. It tingles, and I hope I never get used to that. “I’ll be spoilin’ ye as much as I damn well please, Elexia Donovan.”
“You know,” I remark through bites of this Irish delicacy and wave my fork a little. “If potatoes are your mistress, Liam, I think I can make an exception.”
He flutters his hand in a mock bow. “In this case, it be the love child of the potato and the pancake. We call it an Irish farl. Simple. Crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and we use the wee bit of farl with the butter.” He winks with the implication.
I square my shoulders and wipe off a smudge of flour on his cheek. “I don’t think we ever talked about where you learned to cook.”
A familiar shadow crosses his face, and I know. His mother. But the former wrath has simmered to a sadness. No tension in his muscles. His eyes no longer hold the ice storm from his past. It’s as if…as if he can finally grieve.
“What was she like?” I set my fork down, squeezing my shoulders.
“She’d have loved ye, Lexie.” He smiles faintly and picks up the fork, taking his own bite. “Want to know the kicker? Me mum wasn’t even Irish. And despite the black stain of our past, she still wanted me to know my heritage.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“Aye, she was. She loved to cook, too. Seein’ the way people lit up when they tried her food…made me want to be a chef.” His expression is too deep to measure. “But life…had other plans.” Before I can say anything, he touches his fingertips to my mouth and shakes his head. “No regrets, Darlin’. Not a one.”
“Will you tell me more sometime?”
“Sometime.”
We finish the farls in silence, but I can tell something else is lingering. He rakes his fingers through his curly hair and rubs the back of his neck. No trace of anger. He’s just…edgy.
After he parts his lips and looks every way but me for the third time, I finally set the tray onto the nightstand, then scoot toward him, touching his face. “Hey, I’m your wife. You can share anything with me.”
He heaves a sigh and taps one finger to my cheek. “There is somethin’.”
“I’m listening.”
“Can’t tell ye either.” He drops his elbow onto the bed, leaning on his arm, though his opposite finger doesn’t stray. “There is somethin’ I want t’share with ye, Lexie. But…it can only be done a certain way. So certain, I—ahh!” He scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Holy fuck buckets, Liam. I saw you bash my ex’s skull in and dismember your father. I doubt anything could be?—”
“I have to drug you.” He levels me with those blade-blue eyes.
I blink. “Come again?”
“I consulted with a doctor. A world-renowned one who specializes in adult neuro-anesthesiology.” His voice rushes with a frantic, yearning energy. He gets off the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud, and starts to pace. His long strides eat up the distance of the small bedroom, back and forth, like a panther in a cage.
“I need your trust, Lexie. I want your trust, your full consent. I won’t do it any other way, Darlin’.” He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly. “I’ve gone over everything with them. I gave her your entire medical history. Every detail. All past and present lifestyle changes, right down to your metabolic baseline and your nutritional intake for the last month. We’ve accounted for every variable, so we have.”
He stops mid-stride, turning back to me, anxious, pleading. “I need some time to prepare the surprise. If you’re awake for any part of the setup, it’ll be ruined. It’s the wedding gift I’ve been dyin’ to give ye, Lexie. But if you tell me no… I’ll go to Plan B. It’ll spoil the surprise, but I won’t force it. I just—I want it to be perfect.”
“Liam, take a breath!” I cut him off, reaching out.
He freezes, his chest heaving as he stares at me. I crook my finger, gesturing for him to come closer. He hesitates for a split second before moving back to the bed, lowering himself onto the edge of the mattress. I press my lips into a full smile and take his hand.
