Page 180 of Sins of a King
Bleary eyed and confused, I rolled over and threw the alarm clock against the wall, snuggling back under the covers.
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Flynn asked from the doorway of the bedroom, sipping a cup of coffee.
“What are you doing here?” I growled.
“Making you coffee. Sasha almost didn’t let me in—and he looked like he wanted to rip me apart. What did you tell him? And why was he here this morning?”
“He brought Chinese last night. And he let me talk. He crashed on the couch. Is he still here?”
“No. He’s gone.”
Throwing off the covers, I got up out of bed, intending to give him a verbal set down, but a bout of morning sickness decided to assert itself. I ran for the bathroom, unable to shut the door to give myself privacy while I emptied my belly. Pulling myself off of the floor, I went to the sink and cleaned up. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see Flynn standing in the doorway. The coffee cup was gone, and his hands were at his sides, fists clenched.
“Something you want to tell me?” he asked quietly.
“I didn’t think we had to tell each other everything. That’s clearly how you choose to operate.” I brushed my teeth while he continued to lurk, refusing to rise to the bait.
“How far along are you?”
“Almost eight weeks.” I dried my mouth and looked at him. I couldn’t read him, and I hated the distance between us. He’d put it there first. What was I doing? Keeping us apart out of spite? I purposefully went to him. He looked down at me but didn’t touch me.
I swallowed. “When I was with Dolinsky, I ran out of birth control. And then I came back and we—there was so much—”
Flynn’s arms shot out to hug me to him, pressing my face to his chest. His hands were in my hair, and before I knew it, I was shaking with emotion, and tears leaked out of my eyes. He held me, whispering words in Gaelic into my hair before pulling back so he could stare into my eyes.
“I thought you didn’t want children,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
“And you do now?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “But when I found out, and thought about—” I swallowed, not even able to say it. “I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go through with it.” I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For this unforeseen—”
“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, hen.”
His lips covered mine. I was losing myself in him, in my desire, but I managed to tear my mouth from his.
“I didn’t do this on purpose. I didn’t do this to trap you.”
“Trap me?” He frowned. “Why would you think—oh. You think I’d stay with you out of obligation instead of love. You still don’t think we’re back to us, after Dolinsky.”
“No, I don’t. And after last night… Let’s get one thing straight,” I said, my voice soft but firm.
“I’m listening.”
“You ever pull this kind of crap again, not involving me, I will leave you. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.”
His eyes darkened. “Never again,” he stated, his thumbs sweeping across my cheeks.
“Promise me, Flynn. I need to hear you promise.”
“I promise.”
The rest of my anger dissolved when I saw his contrition and his sincerity. I stood on my toes wanting to kiss him, but he stopped me.
