Page 74 of Sinister Red

Sam has brought up my endometriosis a few times over the last couple of weeks and made a few comments about my cycle, which went haywire five years ago.

Shortly after we got back together, my Red started tracking my periods again and dove head first into all the info he could find on my diagnosis so he could help me in every way possible. For a while, it was fine, we both had a good grasp on things and he was the doting, understanding boyfriend again, but when my cramps started to get worse and things started to go south during that time of the month, Sam went into overprotective mode and I began seeing a specialist in order to try to help. And while it did to a degree, with the pain and all the terrible things, it was impossible to track my period after that.

So now, with the lack of period and presence of other things, I’m sure my very in tune boyfriend notices—hiding this is no longer an option.

Which is probably for the best since ultimately I’ve been keeping this secret just because I was afraid we’d lose the baby, and I didn’t want to face the fact that I might not be able to give something so incredible to the man I love.

And if I can’t give him a family, something I know he wants just as much as he wants to be with me, then why would Sam want to stay with me?

It may not have been the right choice, but it was mine to make, and I decided that waiting until I was further along and a little more confident in the pregnancy sticking.

Nothing to do with Sam, our relationship, or the Wulven Kings.

Nothing to do with anything but my own fear, and instead of leaning on the man that helped me make this baby, I kept it from him—again—and that has only fueled my anxiety and fear because it is very possible Sam will walk away from me because of it.

I check the time again and sigh.

It’s almost eleven, I have two missed texts from Sam, and it looks like he won’t be home for a while because, according to his last message,Marbles is an ass.

So, I switch off the light, slide down into our bed and watch the minutes tick by on my phone.

And tick by, they do.

Eleven turns into midnight, midnight turns into one o’clock, and with each text message that comes through updating me on what Sammy is doing and when he should be home, my anxiety grows. Right up until I hear the man himself come in through the front door, kick off his boots then start turning out lights as he heads toward the stairs.

His footsteps are heavy and slow, tired almost, and it has me wondering if now is the best time to drop this on him, but I can’t wait. I’ve waited long enough and my nerves are all but shot, so I really need to get this over with so I can start to deal with whatever comes after.

I can’t keep playing out the worst case scenario, can’t keep stressing myself out and walking on eggshells around the man I love. I have to do this and I have to do it now, because if I don’t, I’ll wind up waiting to tell Sam about our baby until I go into labor and that will definitely not go over well.

My Red’s silhouette appears at the top of the stairs before the light behind him goes out, but I can still see him thanks to the little bit of moonlight streaming in through the window. And just that outline of his square jaw and broad shoulders is enough to have me squeezing my thighs together.

I guess we just have to be in the same room for me to get painfully turned on.

But I can’t really help that. Sam has always been the sexiest man I’ve ever seen; his face more handsome than anyone else, his body a well-oiled machine that was made just for me. I’ve never had any issues when it comes to being ready to go at the drop of a hat when it comes to Red, but my hormones are so out of controlhis shadowhas my panties wet.

Which gives me an idea.

One that might put both of us at ease enough to soften the blow of the news I have to share.

I watch as Sam walks toward the closet, shedding his cut as he goes, and the second he reaches behind his head and pulls that white t-shirt off with one hand, my decision is made for me. Not that it was a hard one to make, but still. Allowing my libido to guide me right now might not be a terrible idea.

Or it could be the worst one I’ve had to date, but it’ll be fine for a few minutes anyway.

Sam unbuckles his belt, his back to me as he pulls it free from his jeans, moving to the closet slowly in an attempt not to wake me since he obviously thinks I’m asleep. Proven by the way he flinches when I reach over and turn on the lamp.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, Cookie.” Sam sighs as he turns.

I give him a smile as I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “I was already awake.”

He frowns, tosses his belt in the closet without looking then walks toward me before crouching in front of me. “Still not sleeping?”

I shrug and reach up to push Sam’s hair out of his eyes.

“I’m really starting to worry about you, Sof.”

“I know.” I trace a finger over his temple, along the edge of his jaw and over his full bottom lip. “I’m ok though.”

Sam’s frown deepens but he kisses my finger, then slides his hands up my calves until they slip under the bottom of his t-shirt I’m wearing. He searches my eyes for a beat, those hazel orbs swirling green, brown, and gold in the low light of the room, then he blows out a breath as I cup his cheek.

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