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I’m slathering jam on toast when my eyes fall on Sadie’s plate. I take a bite, chew, and swallow, observing the large volume of food on her plate that she barely touched. She’s got to be starving.
“Sadie?” I ask. I watch her shift on the bed. She isn’t asleep then.
“Yes?” she asks. Her voice sounds strangely distant.
“Are you alright?”
At first she doesn’t respond, but she finally just nods her head.
“Yes, sir,” she says. “I’m fine.” I can only see her blanketed body from where I am. I need to see her eyes.
I stand and walk to the side of the bed. At the sight of my beautiful wife, still flushed from lovemaking, lying on her side with her hands tucked under her cheek like a child’s, my heart swells with pride.
My wife. My beautiful wife.
I sit beside her and brush her hair off her forehead, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, but when a tear escapes from the corner of her eyes, I know she’s lying.
“Sadie,” I say sternly. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
When her gaze meets mine, I feel a stab of pain hit me in the chest. Those pretty dark lashes are framed with tears.
“What is it, sweet girl?” I ask her. I want to gather her in my arms and pull her to my chest, but something in her eyes tells me that isn’t what she wants or needs right now. I’m experienced in reading facial expressions, and I see betrayal in those beautiful depths. What has happened in the brief time since our lovemaking?
“Sadie,” I say, warning. She’s hiding something from me, and I’ll have the truth.
“What? It’s astonishing to me how quickly you go from doting husband to stern task master.”
“It’s astonishing to me how quickly you go from sex-sated submissive to brat,” I retort.
When her lips thin and she pulls away from me, I regret my words. I don’t need to fight her to get the truth.
“Are you sick?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Good,” I say, throwing back the covers and yanking her out of bed.
“Hey!” I ignore her protests as I lift her straight up into my arms and gently drape her over my shoulder. Even though I know the good doctor told me the baby’s safe and sound, I can’t help but treat her a little more gently than I normally would. When she flails, I simply hold her legs a little tighter as I walk to the corner of the room. Sliding her down my chest, I spin her around and gently but firmly push her to standing with her nose against the corner.
“What are you doing?” she asks, but she doesn’t move out of the position I put her in.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m standing you in the corner. If you weren’t with child, I’d extricate the truth over my knee, but because you are, we’ll do it this way.”
Even if I am allowed to spank her, I don’t want to fear hurting her. She can learn to submit just fine this way.
“Tell me why you’re angry,” I demand.
“Tell me why you are!”
I smack her pretty backside, but not too hard. Just enough to get her attention.
“Sadie,” I warn.
She sighs. But something catches the corner of my eye that clues me in. Her journal sticks out beneath a stack of books on the bedside table. Is she upset with me that I’ve fetched her journal?
“Did you find your book?” I ask her. “Were you looking through my things?”
A little nod of her head confirms her guilt, but her slumped shoulders twist my heart. I don’t like to see her sad. I reach for her shoulder and turn her to me, half expecting downcast eyes. Instead, pained, tear-stained eyes meet mine.
“I’m not angry with you,” she says. “I suppose I should be,” she continues, swiping at her eyes, “but it isn’t you that I’m upset with.”
I reach for her and pull her to me, tucking her naked, trembling body against my chest.
“A normal girl would be angry at the invasion of privacy,” she mutters, “but I suppose we crossed that bridge after the moment you shoved metal in my ass.”
I can’t help but smirk at her adorable recollection. I squeeze her ass cheek playfully, and my heart soars when it earns a little giggle. But then she sighs, and she leans more heavily into my arms. “I just—it was a reminder of who I once was, Kazimir,” she says. “I didn’t want this. Any of it.” She waves her little hand around the room, at the bed, at me, at her gently curving abdomen.
“I know,” I tell her, a pervading sadness overcoming me at the knowledge of what I must do to keep her safe. “I know, Sadie.” I think of my initial plans for her and how things have changed. “This wasn’t what I planned, either.” I caress her gently swollen abdomen. Neither one of us speaks for a moment.
