Page 111 of In Love and Revenge

‘You’re asking a lot of questions.’

His brows lower and the intensity in his gaze makes me shiver.

‘Answer me, Aurora,’ he says slowly.

‘No, I don’t get heavy periods. I just thought it might be a good idea, that’s all.’

‘A good idea?’ he repeats.

The deep husk in his tone has me fidgeting.

‘Why did you think it was a good idea?’

His eyes bore into mine and I feel like a bug under a microscope.

‘In case I was going to start having more sex,’ I blurt, folding my arms like a shield. ‘Okay?’

‘With me?’

I roll my eyes, but he tilts my chin up with two fingers to meet his gaze.

Rich, molten bronze shimmers back at me.

‘Beauty, did you go on birth control because you were hoping we’d fuck again?’

‘No,’ I scoff.

His eyes narrow in amusement.

‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘Maybe.’

I know my cheeks are flaming. I didn’t plan on this – me and him – ever happening again, and that’s the truth. But yet, I still went to the doctor’s and got a prescription just in case. And I can’t explain why I did it, only that I did.

‘Hm,’ he purrs, and presses a soft kiss to my lips. ‘And you still think you’re not mine?’

‘I’m not,’ I argue.

He kisses me again. ‘I’m not going to lie, the thought of getting you pregnant has a certain ...appeal. But being on the pill’s a smart choice seeing as I’ll have you coming on my dick every day from now on.’

‘Oh, you will, will you?’ I snort at his arrogance, unsure what to make of the pregnant comment.

He smiles against my mouth, and I can’t help it, I sink into his next kiss like I’m greedy for it.

‘I guarantee it. Now what do you want for breakfast?’

‘I told you, I don’t really eat it,’ I reply as he walks over to the fridge and opens it.

The guy is most definitely walking suit porn. He’s wearing a grey pinstripe one today with a waistcoat –a goddamn waistcoat. He looks like a chestnut-haired David Gandy, hot-suited chef edition.

It’s doing things for my appetite, but not the one for food.

‘Maybe just a juice,’ I say.

‘I’ll make you an omelette. Juice isn’t going to sustain you until lunch. Did you have plans for it?’

‘For what?’ I ask, as he gets a carton of eggs out, then pulls a pan from a drawer.

‘For lunch?’