Page 8 of Red Flagged
He let out a shaky breath, melting beneath the words, and I nipped playfully at his bottom lip, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Chivalrous gentleman, defending your woman,” I teased before slipping into French, a sultry purr I reserved just for him. “Et mon bon garçon récompensé ce soir…”
And my good boy will be rewarded tonight.
The way his body shivered under my touch told me he understood every syllable. The tension in him snapped, replaced with a groan as he pulled me closer, mouth crushing to mine in a kiss that was no longer gentle, but desperate and hungry. As if this connection between us was a living, breathingthing.
It had always felt that way, though. Even when we were fighting it, but especially now as we each went to the ends of the earth to protect one another.
“You were brilliant in there,” he moaned against my lips, the words vibrating with pride and anger and something deliciously vulnerable. “Fuck, I could listen to you talk like that all goddamn day.”
I huffed a laugh and pulled back a few inches. “I only told the truth.”
Callum’s eyes burned into mine. “Exactly. And that’s why they’re terrified of you.” His mouth was back on mine before I could respond, and a shiver rolled through my body at how consuming it felt. “My goddess. My fucking goddess. Do you know how proud I am of you?”
My whole body went molten, knees nearly buckling. Pride wasn’t something I heard often in this world, not without a list of conditions. But Callum always expressed it without a second thought, it was clean, and whole, and perfect, and all mine. He tore his lips from mine, dragging them down to kiss my throat,rough stubble scraping against my skin. I gasped, arching into him, not caring in the slightest that we were in the middle of a corridor in a public building.
How could I care when his hands mapped me like he could brand the proof of his love on me?
I wanted it, wanted him, needed him to ground me after sitting in that room full of men who thought they could decide my worth. I only needed this man to show me that I was worthy ofhislove.
But then his hands trailed over my breasts, and my body betrayed me when a white-hot pain streaked through me. I gasped and flinched before I could stop the reaction. It was reflexive, and I hated the way it tore me out of the moment.
Callum froze instantly, pulling back just enough to search my face. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. Everything. My mind scrambled, desperate to cover the fracture of my composure. Not here, not now.I couldn’t.
“Did I hurt you?” he pressed. “Is this because of—” He cut himself off and swallowed, clearly not wanting to drop Morel’s name between us in a moment like this.
I shook my head rigorously, not wanting him to think for a single moment that it was because of another man. But the truth pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. I was less than two days from knowing the truth, because even though my cycle was like clockwork, it didn’t mean jack shit.
Callum cupped my face, steadying me in ways nothing else could, but inside, my body wasn’t steady at all. The ache in my breasts wasn’t from Morel’s grip. It was deeper, more painful, and hauntingly familiar in a way that made emotion clog in my throat. It was the kind of tenderness that used to mean something I swore I’d never let myself hope for again… until him.
We agreed, someday it would be a family of our choosing, but that didn’t erase the sadness of my reality.
My body had let me down before. The IUD should have protected me. That had always been its purpose: a safeguard, a barrier, something to hold the line against mistakes or miracles I physically wasn’t equipped for. But it wouldn’t be the first time it failed me. In the past, it had dislodged itself—a freak accident, the kind of thing doctors waved away with clinical shrugs and the reassurance it shouldn’t happen again.
It was easy for them to brush off, but it cost me more than I ever admitted, even to myself. Santino never knew. I hadn’t told anyone. Not about how I bled and bled and thought it was just the endometriosis again. Until it wasn’t. Until I understood what I’d lost without even knowing I was carrying it.
The diagnosis that followed was its own brand of cruelty. Endometriosis that tore at me from the inside. Ovaries that doctors swore were older than I was, slamming doors before I’d even had the chance to knock. My cycles came and went with deceptive regularity, but ovulation rarely showed up.
Basically infertile, one specialist told me casually, as if it wasn’t my entire future they were dissecting. A whopping “less than five percent chance”, even if by some miracle everything aligned. Which meant the IUD wasn’t just protection. It was permission to stop worrying, to stop trying, to stopwanting.
Except now, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop running the numbers. My cursed luck could easily have dislodged it again, leaving me unguarded and… what? Capable? No. That wasn’t me when it came to fertility.
And yet… my breasts ached, I was unusually fatigued, and nausea curled in my stomach. I hated myself for even wondering, for evenhopingright now.
I couldn’t think about it. Not today, not with a race just hours away, not so soon after having this conversation with Callum.I couldn’t in good conscience climb into a car and go ungodly speeds if I knew there was achanceI was pregnant.
So I lied, even though I desperately wanted to know, wanted to find out the truth with him by my side, wanted him to hold me when it all fell apart.
“I’m fine, mon amour,” I said, cracking a feeble smile. “Just sore. Sabotaged car and all that.”
The disbelief in his eyes gutted me. He didn’t buy it, not for a second, but thankfully he didn’t push, either. He leaned his forehead against mine, and for a moment, I thought he’d let this entire morning go and he’d go into race mode.
But then something shifted in him.
He gave me a wicked smirk and brushed his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’ve got an idea,” he said conspiratorially, and the excitement on his face had my heart skipping a beat. “It’s fucking crazy, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And it’ll give us both what we want.”
I frowned, trying to gauge what he was going on about. But before I could ask?—
