He was awake, sitting up and fully alert to pay attention to me.
Oh, no.
What can I do now?
I wasn’t ready to mention the possibility of a pregnancy to him, not until I could have a little more guidance about what this would mean. It was early yet, and I doubted anything could be conventional between a Mafia boss and his lover, but I was letting it get to me that for four nights now, he’d brought me here, to this house off to the side of the estate, rather than merely taking me up to his room.
Because that’s more intimate.
Because that’s his space and I can’t expect to invite myself into it.
He’s still keeping himself out of reach.
I sighed, pausing at the door.
“Feeling okay?” he asked.
Now I was. The nausea had passed—for the moment. “I feel a little sore,” I admitted sheepishly, hoping it would work like a diversion.
“You seem a little pale,” he commented as I walked over to sit on the other side of the bed. I didn’t get back under the covers. There was no point now that he was awake and would likely take off shortly. Perched on the edge, I faced him sideways.
“I don’t feel ill.”
He arched one brow, patient but intrigued. He wasn’t pushy or bossing me around, but I was nervous about this idea, nonetheless.
“You don’t?”
I shook my head.
“You didn’t eat much at dinner last night,” he remarked.
“I didn’t have much of an appetite.” I smiled quickly. “And I was talking quite a bit.”
He gave me a small smile. “According to what the cooks say, you haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing to be worried about, is it?”
I felt like this was a test, to see if he’d admit he was worried about me. To verbalize that he cared about me as more than a fuck toy.
“You also seem to have lost your love of coffee,” he said.
Another shrug. He was practically listing all the symptoms that I’d noticed about myself! I refused to panic, not right here in front of him like this.
“Last night, I realized that you were extra responsive when I touched you?—”
“Because it’s always that good,” I rushed to say with a sly smile, feeling embarrassed to praise him like this.
“But when I touched your nipples, it almost seemed like you were in pain.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, no pain. You never hurt me.”
Except when you break my heart with the possibility that you’ll never want me like I want you.
To matter and belong together.
Not just in bed.
He nodded, tapping his finger on his leg under the cover. “Did you wake up and run to the bathroom just now because you felt nauseous?”
