‘Oh...oh,’ she sobbed incoherently against his ear. ‘I can’t...’
‘Yes, you can,’ he demanded, stroking ruthlessly now—desperate to see her shatter. Thrusting one finger then two into the tight clasp of her body, he massaged the walls of her sex.
She cried out against his ear, her body gripping his fingers as he thrust her into orgasm. His own climax licked at his spine. She collapsed against him, limp and sated and all his.
Scooping her into his arms, he strode to the bed but the weirdest thought assailed him as he stripped off her pants and boots, tugged down her panties and then tore off his own clothes and fumbled with the condom.
If he didn’t get inside her in the next ten seconds, burying himself so deep that he was the only thing she could think about or feel, he might very well die.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘THE HORMONE LEVEL
S in your test are consistent with your dates, which makes you six weeks’ gestation. So if you’re considering termination I’d strongly recommend that you make the decision soon.’ The young female nurse sent Bronte a fleeting smile tinged with sympathy.
‘I’m not,’ Bronte said, her hand straying back to the life growing in her belly.
‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’ the nurse said gently. ‘You can still take more time to think about the options if you need to.’
Bronte shook her head. ‘I don’t need time to think about it. I’ve decided I want to have the baby.’ The words came out on a whisper of breath, the first time she’d ever said them out loud. But all the reasons why having this baby would be a disaster didn’t hijack the bubble of happiness sitting under her breastbone.
She would have to tell Lukas now. She couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. She’d started feeling nauseous some mornings and it had been a month since they’d started sleeping together regularly—hot, feral, erotic encounters snatched whenever she was willing to go to his penthouse. She’d limited those encounters to two days a week, and made sure that she never stayed with him overnight, to at least try to keep her emotions in perspective.
But the more time she spent with Lukas, the more desperate she became to crack the shell he kept around his feelings. Because over the evenings they’d shared together her own shell had crumbled. Every time he stroked or licked or thrust her to orgasm, every time he held her afterwards and tried to cajole her to stay, she’d become convinced the connection they shared went way beyond the sex.
The way he insisted on accompanying her back to the house whenever they had a liaison. The fact he hadn’t left the country since she’d agreed to their arrangement. The way he called her every day. And the effort he was making to forge a relationship with Nico.
She’d even begun to see those increasingly autocratic texts, when he demanded to know if she would be visiting the penthouse that evening, as a sign of his deepening need for her in his life, rather than just a sign that he was far too used to getting his own way.
Bronte’s mind continued to mull over all the possibilities as the nurse handed her some pamphlets about antenatal care, gave her the contact information for the local antenatal group and a referral notice for a local GP.
She stuffed the information in her bag as she left the clinic, and walked back through the bustling streets of Camden on a Monday afternoon. The thought of the conversation she must have with Lukas the next time they met had anxiety strangling the bubble of hope a little. His thoughts and feelings about her and the course of their relationship—other than how much he enjoyed igniting her senses to fever-pitch—still remained a secret in many ways. She hadn’t expected him to make a commitment so soon, but she had hoped that he might have been willing to confide in her a bit more.
She’d tried to probe about the kidnapping, tried to discover how he felt about Nico’s increasing attachment to him—which was bordering on full-blown hero-worship since Lukas had arrived unannounced to spend the afternoon the day before teaching the little boy how to throw a baseball—but he either derailed the conversation or distracted her with sex.
As she turned into Regent’s Crescent, she lifted the collar of her coat and put on her sunglasses despite the weak winter sunlight filtering through the trees. There were very few paparazzi around these days, and she’d taken precautions this morning to leave early to get to her clinic appointment but, even so, she checked her surroundings before slipping into the back alleyway that led to the mews behind her home.
The persistent buzz of her mobile phone stopped her in her tracks. The little bubble of hope expanded when she read the caller ID: Lukas mobile.
Entering the back garden, she answered the call. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey, yourself—where have you been?’ came the curt reply. ‘I just spoke to Maureen and she said you left the house this morning without a bodyguard.’
Guilt coalesced in her stomach. ‘I went for a walk,’ she murmured.
She would have to tell Lukas today, but she didn’t want to tell him over the phone. She needed to speak to him face to face—she still had no idea what his reaction would be to news of the baby. But what scared her most of all was how emotionally invested she had become in his response. If the news ended their affair she would have to deal with it. But if he rejected her and the baby it would be much harder to handle than it would have been four weeks ago, before she’d agreed to his proposition. Because now she had comprehensive proof that this autocratic, demanding, arrogant man also had the ability to be so tender, so protective, so caring.
‘Where are you now?’ he demanded, sounding more annoyed than tender.
‘I’m almost home.’
‘Almost home where, exactly?’
‘In the back garden,’ she said, locking the gate behind her.
She heard a muffled curse then a heavy sigh down the other end of the line.
‘Dammit, Bronte. How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want you or Nico taking those kinds of risks. If you want to go for a walk, fine. But I expect you to take the proper precautions, which means having James or Janice or one of the other bodyguards with you at all times when you’re out of the house.’