Page 178 of Salvatore

His teeth graze my flesh, sharp and deep. “It’s not the Kegels. It’s just you.”

I melt a little more, but the baby comment has brought a necessary segue to a much-needed conversation. “You were snooping this morning when Liv and I were talking, weren’t you?”

His fingers continue their mindless dance. “I may have eavesdropped in an effort to ensure your safety.”

“Liv isn’t a threat to me.”

“Everything is a threat when you carry my child.”

My child.

I shiver at the ownership, my heart fluttering an obnoxious beat. “Do you have any expectations of how I should proceed with the pregnancy?”

“No. That’s not my choice.”

“I agree, but that’s not what I asked.”

His hand stills as the quiet stretches.

I’m losing him again. I can feel the emotional withdrawal.

“Please, Salvatore. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking now is the same thing I’ve been thinking all goddamn day—that I spent most of my life trapped under the dictatorship of two people who claimed to be parents but lacked the compassion to back up the title. I grew up without agency. Or autonomy. And I won’t become a facilitator to that sort of environment, despite feeling like it’s fucking instinctual around you. Your choices are your own.”

“I know they are.” I glance over my shoulder, meeting his stern expression. “That’s why I asked about your expectations—not your demands. I want your opinion. If you could choose how this plays out, what would that future look like?”

His lips thin. “You don’t want a glimpse at that picture.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would consist of you spending the next nine months in my bed, in my arms, riding my dick, while you carried our child to term,” he growls. “You’d give birth with me by your side, and recover in my home, under my care, where I could control every variable that keeps you safe.”

My skin prickles, my unhinged fascination with his dominance letting me know it isn’t just alive—it thrives.

“You no longer see me as a threat, Ivy. But you should. Because although I’ve made a vow not to become my father, I’ve found myself having to cling tight to that promise with a two-fisted grip whenever you’re around.”

I shuffle farther away, making room to roll onto my back to see him better. “Why?”

“Because the thought of you having the freedom to leave me is like a noose around my neck. You deserve better, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. I already slipped today when you said you wanted to run and I forbid it.”

“Because my choice would’ve been a mistake.” I place a palm to his chest, not really knowing how to make him understand his lack of threat. “Everyone agreed. I would’ve fled straight into the path of your uncle and I’d already be dead.”

His hand slides atop mine. “But would I have allowed you to leave if it’d been more dangerous for you to stay?”

“If there’d been any doubt I wouldn’t have let you make the choice.”

He brings our joined fingers to his lips, placing a haunted kiss to my knuckles. “Mi reina, I fear your preferences would have been of little consequence.”

My pulse flutters.

Stupid fucking pulse.

“What are you saying?” I frown. “That you’re worried you’re going to start ruling over me like a possession?”

The word choice is flamboyant at best, so I’m caught off-guard when he simply says, “Yes.”

“I don’t believe that. You’ve done nothing but protect me.”

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