Page 231 of The Devil's Thorn
It wasn’t just a touch. It was a question. An answer. A possession.
My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t flinch. I held his gaze, let him feel the heat in mine, the challenge, the truth I wasn’t ready to say out loud.
His thumb lingered. And then I spoke, voice quiet but edged in something sharp. “For someone who isn’t sure he wants kids…” I tilted my head slightly, just enough to catch the glint in his eye, “you’re awfully reckless.”
His hand stilled on my face. But he didn’t drop it. A faint smirk ghosted his lips—not mocking, not arrogant. Just aware. Ofexactlywhat I was referring to. And the weight of it settled between us like a loaded gun on velvet.
“I know,” he said simply. Low. Measured.
“You didn’t ask,” I said.
“I didn’t need to.”
“I’m not on anything,” I added, because I wanted to see if itrattledhim.
It didn’t. Or at least, he didn’t let it show.
His thumb moved again, a light stroke along the curve of my lip. Slower this time. “I know,” he said again, and that answer landed harder than I expected.
I blinked. “You knew?”
His eyes didn’t waver from mine. “I pay attention.”
That stirred something in my chest—frustration, disbelief… maybe something softer too, though I wasn’t ready to examine it.
“You were willing to risk it?” I asked, voice lower now. A challenge, not a plea.
He let his hand fall then—not in rejection, but with purpose, slipping it into his pocket like he needed it there to hold back everything else.
“I didn’t think about risk,” he said. “I thought aboutyou.”
I swallowed. Because he wasn’t speaking about the act. He was speaking about the moment. Thechoice. The heat that had overtaken both of us and stripped us bare without a second thought. The way we’d collided like a storm breaking over the sea—violent, inevitable, real.
“And if I got pregnant?” I asked, the words tasting foreign in my mouth. “Would you still be unsure then?”
A flicker passed through his eyes. Not fear. Not hesitation. Just thought.
“I would never let you face that alone,” he said quietly. “Not for a second.”
That shouldn’t have been enough. But it was. Because I believed him.
I believed every word, every inch of him, even when I didn’t want to. Even when trusting anyone in this world felt likepressing a blade to your own throat and daring them to cut. And he didn’t stop there.
“If that ever happened,” he said, his voice low and sure, “I’d protect you. Both of you. No matter what it cost.”
My stomach twisted at the weight of it. Not from fear. From something dangerously close to hope.
I looked at him, really looked at him—at the man who never flinched, never blinked, never gave more than he intended… except withme. And I wondered if he realized how much he’d already given.
“I’m not saying I want that,” I said, because I didn’t know what I wanted. Not yet. “I’m not planning anything.”
“I know.”
“But I won’t be anyone’s legacy.”
His eyes darkened. “You’d never have to be,” he said.
The words sank into me, threading themselves through every wall I’d built.
