Page 38 of His Orders

I nod into the sheets, voice still shaky. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

There’s something in his voice now. Rough, but quieter. Protective. I’ve heard him growl. I’ve heard him command. But this is different.

I turn my head, just enough for him to see my face. “I’m more than okay.”

His lips twitch at the corner like he doesn’t believe me yet, like he needs more than words.

So I reach for his hand where it still grips my hip and lace my fingers through his. He squeezes back immediately, grounding me.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks, quieter now.

I smile, breath still catching around the edges. “Only in the ways I wanted you to.”

That earns a small, rumbling laugh. He finally pulls out, slowly and carefully, and I bite my lip at the oversensitive drag. I feel his cum trickle out of me the moment he’s gone. My thighs twitch. I’m a mess.

My whole body aches in places I forgot existed. And yet, this is the most alive I’ve felt in all this year, maybe ever, except when I learned I was going to be a mom. A sob rises to my throat, but I swallow and push it back.

I want to tell him. Not because I have to. Not because I’m running out of time or options. But because somehow, impossibly, I trust him.

But what if I’m wrong? What if the moment I open my mouth, the moment I hand him the truth, it’s over? What if he pulls away, says the wrong thing, looks at me differently? What if the heat in his eyes turns to distance, or worse, pity?

And God, what if he stays, only for Daniel to sink his claws into him the way he’s sunk them into me?

Daniel doesn’t need love to hurt someone. He doesn’t need a weakness to exploit—he creates one. And Ethan, with all his strength and silence and shadows, might be more vulnerable than he even realizes.

If Daniel knew, if he found out that Ethan is the father, he’d weaponize it. And maybe I’m not just afraid of what Ethan will do when I tell him. Maybe I’m terrified of what Daniel will do if Ethan chooses to stay.

I want to stay in this moment, in the warm, tangled quiet we’ve made between us, but the ache between my thighs and the rising tide of thoughts in my chest are already pulling me out of it.

“I should shower,” I murmur.

He doesn’t answer right away, just presses one last kiss to the back of my neck, then sits up, shifting off the bed to grab the blanket from where it slipped onto the floor.

I slide out from under him slowly, wincing a little as I move, but he’s already at my side, helping me steady myself without making a big deal of it. There’s something careful in the wayhe touches me now, like he knows I’m still riding the edge of something I haven’t named.

The bathroom is small and steamy within seconds, and as I stand under the water, letting it run over my body, I press a hand to my belly, where joy still lingers like a quiet reminder.

When I finally emerge, skin damp and hair piled into a loose bun, the room is dim but somehow warmer. Ethan’s pulled the comforter back into place and lit the lamp on the nightstand. He stands by the window, shirtless, one hand cradling a mug, the other tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

When he sees me, his gaze softens.

“You okay?”

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “Yeah.”

He walks over and holds out the mug. It’s warm in my hands, sweet and rich, and the first sip tells me it’s some kind of decadent hot chocolate. I didn’t even know there was chocolate in the fridge, but damn, is this good. Not the instant kind. Real, thick, too indulgent for this hour of the night cocoa.

“You didn’t have to?—”

“You looked like you needed something comforting.”

I manage a quiet laugh, the kind that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

We stand there for a moment, not touching, just breathing in the quiet space that’s filled with so many unsaid things. I sip from the mug again, watching him over the rim. He doesn’t press. Doesn’t push. Just waits.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I say finally. My voice is soft, hesitant. “But just for tonight, okay?”

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