mixed with soft moans as our orgasms fade and our limbs begin to relax around each other.
When I finally open my eyes and look at her, she’s lying underneath me with a blissed-out expression, her eyes closed and a small, satisfied smile on her flushed face.
The smile lasts for about two seconds.
Then her eyes fly open, and her whole body stiffens. She stares at me in horror, sucking in a breath.
Fuck.
I say, “Before you start to hurl insults at me, let me defend myself by saying that wasn’t on purpose. I simply got carried away.”
It’s true, but she doesn’t believe me. I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I laid a trap for her and fucked her right into it.
“Is this a bad time to remind you that you got carried away, too?”
She says, “This is a bad time for you to be saying anything, gangster. Especially that.”
She pushes at my chest, trying to get out from underneath me. I ignore that and stay firmly seated inside her. “Look at me.”
She stares at me with eyes like razor blades. I stare right back. “When was your last period?”
She scoffs. “Oh, are you a gynecologist now, too?”
“One more smart remark and I’ll spank your ass until it’s red and my hand is stinging. Answer the question.”
She wants to kill me. God, how much she wants to put a hole in my brain. If her eyes were loaded guns, I’d be riddled with bullets.
She says, “Just over three weeks ago.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And are your periods regular?”
She closes her eyes and mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
“Just answer the goddamn question.”
With a sigh, she says, “Yes, doctor. My periods are regular.”
I kiss her gently on the lips. “Then you’re in the luteal phase.”
“I’ve never heard that term in my life. What the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying you probably won’t get pregnant.”
“Probably isn’t definitely.”
“No, it isn’t.” We stare at each other. I say, “What do you think of twins?”
Her face drains of color.
“Because they run in my family.”
She stares at me, horrified.
“I’m just saying. Don’t look so nauseated.”
She sputters, “Y-you can’t—you can’t be okay with…with…”
“What? You carrying my child?”
“Yes!”
I kiss her again. “The only problem I can foresee is what will happen to your temper with pregnancy hormones. It could get ugly. I’ll have to take out extra life insurance. Hire a few more bodyguards.”
She’s dismayed. “This isn’t funny!”
“No, lass, it isn’t funny. It’s life. Messy, complicated, and, occasionally, fucking beautiful. If you’re pregnant, we’ll figure it out.”
“We?”
I freeze. My heart skips a beat. I hadn’t considered the other alternatives.
Seeing the look on my face, she says softly, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud, but thank you for being offended by that.”
My voice thick, I say, “More like appalled. That felt like a knife through my heart.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t suggesting that you wouldn’t be involved…” She trails off, then sighs. “Okay, maybe I was suggesting that.” She thinks for a moment. “Actually, it would never in a million years occur to me that you’d even want to be involved. You, with a baby?”
Then she groans and puts a hand over her eyes. “Oh god. This is a disaster.”
I whisper, “Or it could be a miracle.”
She takes her hand away from her eyes and glares at me in outrage.
I say solemnly, “You’re right. Disaster it is. Should I fly into a rage and throw things around the room now, or would you prefer tears? I haven’t cried since I was thirteen years old, though, so I should warn you it might take a while for me to work them up.”
This time when she shoves against my chest, I let her push me away. As soon as I roll off her, she pops up and starts to dress, her shaking hands fumbling with her clothes.
I sit on the edge of the mattress with my elbows on my knees and watch her.
Running away again. Always running away.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is a disaster. She’s an iceberg, and I’m the Titanic, its captain too arrogant to bother to correct course, leading to the deaths of hundreds of innocent people.
A number that could match how many would die in a war started by a mafia king who fell in love with his enemy’s daughter.
Liam’s words come back to haunt me. “You’re the most controlling arsehole who’s ever lived.”
And where has all that control gotten me?
Sitting on the edge of a bed in a rented motel room, watching the only woman