She makes a hrmph noise. “That and other things.” She yawns again.
“You need rest. I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow. First thing.”
“You did this on purpose.”
“What?” I stroke her back.
“You wore me out so we wouldn’t have to talk about it.”
“Talk about what? How you’ve made me the happiest man in the entire world? How we’re going to have a child with your good looks and kind disposition? I want to talk about all those things and more with you, Quinn.” I kiss her again. I can’t keep my hands off her, roving along her body and just being here with her. “You mean everything to me. You and this child. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You have to know that. My whole life, I’ve dreamed of having a family, having someone like you who loves me just as I am.” I take a deep breath. “And I know I’m not always an easy man to love. Especially when I’m gone for work sometimes. But I want you to know you’re always on my mind. Every second of every day. Everything I do, I do for you.”
I pause, trying to build up the courage to tell her the truth—that I’m not a businessman. I’m a hitman. The best hitman currently working in the underworld. I’ve hidden it from her for so long. Hell, I’ve hidden the ways I want to take her body, to wreck her with my cock, my hands, my tongue. She’s awakened this dark beast inside me that needs to dominate her in the bedroom in ways I can’t put into words. But I can’t come clean about all that. Not when she’s pregnant.
She’s being so patient with me, just listening as I wrestle with all these unfamiliar feelings, feelings that seem like they’re too big to fit inside just one man. But they’re in there, and that’s all because of her.
“The truth is, Quinn.” I take another deep breath. “The truth is, I’m not some mild-mannered businessman. I’m a hitman. A damn good one. But I swear on my life I would never allow that part of my life to hurt you or our children.”
God, that was so fucking hard. I try not to wince as I wait for her reaction.
But all I hear in response is a low, faint snore.
11
Quinn
When I wake the next morning, it’s like nothing happened. There are no visible remnants of me taking a sledgehammer to the wall in the closet. I’m sure if you moved Logan’s clothes to the side, you’d see the few dents I created, but everything else is back in its place.
Logan’s secrets are tucked away again. I’m not sure what to make of it now that I know it’s not some red room of kink. It’s something, though. But once again, my husband managed to distract me from finding out.
“You want bacon?” Logan asks, strolling into the closet.
“I make breakfast around here,” I remind him.
He walks over to me, laying a kiss on me. His hand goes to my stomach, resting there. It had been there most of the night the few times I’d woken. I’d rolled in his arms to give him a kiss with every intention of making love to my husband, but he’d once again gone down on me. He was relentless with that mouth of his. After the third orgasm, it was lights out for me.
“How about I order something?” he suggests.
“How are you even hungry? You ate me to death,” I snap.
His eyes widen. I, myself, am a bit surprised at my tone of voice. But it feels kind of nice to yell and get some of my frustration out.
“Did I hurt you?” He drops to his knees and pushes my shirt—technically, his shirt—up my legs to actually inspect my lady bits. I smack his hands away.
“I was making a joke, you crazy person.” I step back from him, getting annoyed. I know exactly why he went down on me so many times. Not that I didn’t enjoy every second of it. But I’m frustrated that he wouldn’t take it any further. Instead of him giving me more, now he’s treating me as if I’m made of glass. “I make breakfast. You don’t go ordering it out. I can do things, Logan!” I shout.
“Okay. You make breakfast.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well, you are. I can make breakfast, and I can be fucked by my husband!” I shout again before I storm out of the closet and toward the kitchen.
I don’t hear him, but I know he’s behind me, following me down the hallway. For a big man, he can move stealthily. When I enter the kitchen, I start banging things around. At least something is getting banged around here. I snort a laugh at my internal joke.