He might need sleep but he wasn’t going to get it. At least, not for awhile.
“Cora?” he called.
I shoved my hand under the pillow and pulled out my nightie, saying softly, “Just a minute.”
Luckily, with only a searching look at me, he let it go. I pulled the nightie on while he rolled off the bed to disrobe. Then I sat on the side of the bed, took off my sandals and dashed to the bathroom to grab the white stick with the pink plus sign on it. Then I dashed out of the bathroom to the kitchen being certain not to look at him on the way and also trying not to hyperventilate because I was nervous. In the kitchen, I lit the two birthday candles on the top (one pink, one blue – he wanted a son but Lord knew, at this point, it was a fifty-fifty shot). Then I walked the cake slowly back to my room.
When I got close to the bed, I saw Tor was sitting up in it, his eyes I could see by the minimal candlelight were not on the cake. They were on me.
And they were burning.
“Love,” he whispered, his deep voice strange, like there was an ache in it.
I sat on the bed and held the cake between us. His eyes finally went to the cake.
Then they came back to mine and there it was. Definitely an ache.
“You did not need to do this to apologize,” he said softly then his eyes went back to the cake and I understood the ache. He was remembering the last time I walked into a room with one. “Especially not this,” he finished.
“Honey,” I replied quietly, “I didn’t make it as an apology. I made it for a celebration.”
He looked at me. “Pardon?”
I balanced the cake on one hand and lifted the white stick with the other.
“In my world, you can buy pregnancy tests at the drugstore. When you left, I bought one, took it and –”
Just like that, the cake was whisked out of my hand and the candles flickering out as it was swiftly deposited on the nightstand. Then the white stick was yanked out of my other hand and Tor tossed it to the floor.
Then I was on my back with Tor’s body covering mine.
His hands framed my face. “It is confirmed, you’re carrying my child,” he declared.
“Uh… yes,” I whispered.
“And you feel this is cause for celebration,” he noted, his voice husky.
“Um… I’m scared,” I whispered my confession. “But… uh… yes,” I agreed shakily.
I barely got the “s” out on “yes” when Tor’s mouth slammed down on mine and he kissed me, deep, wet, rough and thorough and while he was doing it, his arms closed around me and he rolled so I was on top.
His hands went into my nightie, yanking it up and I had to break free of his mouth when he pulled it over my head.
“Tor, the cake –” I started.
One of his hands fisted in my hair, the other one curled into the flesh of one of the cheeks of my bottom.
“We’ll have it for breakfast,” he replied.
“You can’t eat cake –”
His fingers on my ass flexed. “Quiet.”
“But –”
He rolled again so he was on top, shifting his h*ps insistently until I opened my legs and his h*ps fell between.
“Quiet,” he repeated on a growl, “I’m about to f**k my wife and the only words I want her saying when I do it are ‘yes’, ‘Tor’, ‘my prince’, ‘baby’ and ‘oh my God’. Am I understood?”