Page 19 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
“I think I've had enough cream.” The words shot out of her mouth, and she winced.
Brahnt only laughed. “I did go a little hard on you last night, didn't I?” He trailed a finger down her arm, and Charlotte shuddered.
She needed a few minutes alone, so she smiled at Brahnt and slipped out of the bed, setting the coffee on the bedside table, then headed to the bathroom where she shut the door behind her and leaned against the sink.
Fuck.
Okay, deep breath.
She'd had the best sex of her life, and Brahnt was bringing her coffee in bed with the scents of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Looking at her with Orc eyes.
Charlotte knew Orc Eyes. The eyes that said,“Got you, you’re mine.”That unwavering, intense, slightly tender gaze of an Orc wanting to start preparing a nest for his Human. And. . .it was so unexpected. She'd hoped for a fabulous date, to make a strong connection—but she hadn't been planning on getting married and having babiesthisyear. She knew the whole MillionOrc spiel, but she hadn’t quite believed it.
She believed it now.
Cause Marriage & Babies was the first song on the Orc Eyes soundtrack.
Those were the words Brahnt had been whispering in her ear all night long, and the thing was, Charlotte didn't think that was just sex talk. Brahnt didn't strike her as the kind of man who sang that tune unless he meant it. Not when he had his wealth and family name on the line.
And. . .oh my god. They hadn’t used condoms. At all. Charlotte could blame the suffocating Orc/Human cocktail of bonding hormones, but she also couldn’t. It wasn’t like she’d been drunk, or slightly out of her right mind. She’d been sober. And consenting. Which meant—
Caro was gonna kill her dead, have one of her fictional hot necromancers raise her, then kill her again, if Charlotte had gotten herself knocked up without a marriage contract first.
What were the chances Brahnt hadn't realized what they’d done?
She cut off a beginning trill of laughter. No. . .cackling. Definitely a slightly manic cackle.
As panic was beginning to grow extra feet and put on happy dance shoes, there was a light knock on the door.
“Breakfast is ready in five,” Brahnt said, but otherwise didn't try to enter.
Charlotte appreciated the discretion. He could have barged into the bathroom to ask her what was wrong, or in general do the guy thing of sniffing out a problem and fixing it even if no one wanted it fixed. Or demanding the little distance Charlotte was trying to put between them be eradicated.
Obliterated.
Oh fucking god, Brahnt was in the kitchen making breakfast. The second meal he'd made with his own hands for Charlotte.
It was a classic bonding ritual.
Charlotte groaned, kicked her butt into gear and washed up. When she emerged from the bathroom, clean clothing lay across the now made bed. She picked it up; leggings and plain T-shirt not only in her size, but expensive.
Charlotte knew. She checked the tag. It was the kind of expensive clothing which to the untrained eye looked like every day wear—no gauche desperate new money loud labels.
But it was not every day wear. It was also not consignment.
Charlotte put it on, panic clogging her throat.
She wasn't ready for this. She had to play it cool if she wanted to get out of here without a ring on her finger—or a tracker.
Charlotte walked down the hallway and entered the kitchen, giving Brahnt what she hoped was an easy smile.
The Orc glanced at her, lips curving, and beckoned. Charlotte went to him without thinking. Like a good little Human.
Damnit damnit damnit.
Brahnt slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close for a side hug, then kissed her on her cheek before nudging her towards the stool at the center island.
“Go sit, I'll make you a plate.”
