Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Was that on purpose? Surely he isn't trying to get me pregnant…right?
It should worry me that I don't know the answer to that question, but when he slips his hand under the table, reaching for mine, my mind settles. Our fingers lace together, and my heart pulses in my chest.
Sooner or later, I have to tell him how I feel about him. So…why haven't I? It's a good question. I just don't have an answer.
"Dinner was interesting tonight," I murmur hours later, curled up in Bastian's arms as sweat dries on our skin.
He snorts in my ear. "I tried to warn you."
"I had fun."
"Yeah?"
I hear the smile in his voice and nod. "Yeah. I love your parents." I pause. "They did bring up a good point, though."
"If this is you asking for a raise, I probably won't say no while you're naked," he says with a wicked chuckle.
I jab him in the ribcage with my elbow. "That's not what I'm talking about. But yes, please give me a raise. Your mom thinks I deserve it for putting up with you." Luna is a queen who can do no wrong. I said what I said.
He just chuckles again. "What point are you referring to?"
"Kids," I murmur, my voice whisper-quiet.
He tenses beneath me.
"If we aren't careful, we may be dealing with more than our own lives soon," I say softly. "Maybe we should start using protection."
His hand slips down my body, landing against my belly. The way he cups it almost protectively makes my soul quiver with need. "You think I wouldn't want to deal with a baby, Constance?"
"I…"
He tips my head back with his free hand, his eyes meeting mine. His expression is intense, his eyes as deep as the sea. "Getting you pregnant wouldn't be a problem for me, baby."
I gape at him, my lips parted in shock. "W-what?" I finally manage to ask.
"It wouldn't be a problem," he murmurs.
"I…" I blink at him, suspicion running through me. "Bastian Grayson, are you trying to get me pregnant?"
"I'm not not trying."
"What does that mean?"
"It means…" He trails off, rolling us until we're side by side, facing each other. "It means if it happens, it happens. I won't be mad about it." He tips my head back, brushing his lips against mine. "I can think of worse things than you having my kids."
"I…you…" I splutter and stutter, speechless for once.
His lips quirk into a grin, one finger drifting down my cheek. "I like you like this."
"Like what?"
"Cuddly and silent. It means you don't hate the idea of me trying to get you pregnant."
"Bastian."
"If you hated it, you'd be strangling me right now."
"Bastian."
"But you're just…silent. I like it."
"Maybe I'm silent because I'm realizing that you might actually be insane," I grumble. "You're talking about us having kids like it's normal."
"Why can't it be?"
"Because…because…because I work for you!" I finally splutter like that should be obvious. "Have you forgotten that you're my boss? That we're not even supposed to be sleeping together?"
"Fuck that," he grunts. "We can do whatever the hell we want."
"So says you," I mutter.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you have job security here. If we don't work out, you don't lose anything. You get to keep going to work like nothing ever happened, completely secure in your position because it's your family's company. I don't have that luxury. If we don't work out, I lose my job. And if I lose my job, how am I supposed to take care of myself, let alone a baby?"
"You aren't going anywhere," he growls, his eyes narrowed on me. "I told you before, your job doesn't depend on you sleeping with me, Constance. What's between us has nothing to do with work. And if you think I wouldn't support you and our baby, I'm going to be pissed about it. I take care of what's mine."
"That's not the point!" I cry, exasperated.
"Then what is the point?"
"My point is, the lines between us are so blurred, there are no lines. You fuck me in my office. You fuck me in yours. I'm in your bed every night." I groan, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. "God, Bastian. You have the privilege of not worrying about what could go wrong. I don't have that luxury. You're my boss. My livelihood is entirely dependent on you. How do you not see the problem with that?"
He's silent for a moment, processing. "You really think I'd fire you if you decided you didn't want to be with me?"
"No," I whisper. He may be a lot of things, but one thing he isn't is heartless or cruel. "But do you really think I could keep coming to work every single day if it doesn't work out?"
Do you really think I can watch you fall in love with someone who isn't me?