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She knew her husband. She knew that look in his eyes. This was for their safety, not for his pride.
“The name stays dead,” she amended. “But the man.” Her lips trembled. “The man you are is my soul.”
Two tears ran down her bruised face again. Sienna had died for those bruises. Man or woman, nothing, no one, would risk what was his again.
He cupped her tender cheeks and felt the pressure behind his eyes, the lump in his throat.
“My Bella,” he whispered. “My heart died for you. Every day, every minute. Every second that I thought you believed I was another man. Every second you believed I was dead.”
And her smile lit him, from the inside out. A tremulous, vulnerable smile. “I always knew who touched me,” she whispered. “Only you, Noah. Only you can touch me.” Then she touched his cheek, her fingertips touched his lips. “But you really need a shower first, sailor boy. You reek.”
The laugh that tore from him shouldn’t have surprised him. The surge of love, of pure joy that ripped through him, should have been uncertain, should have been rife with the fears he knew had consumed him for so long. That Sabella couldn’t accept the man he was. That she might regret. That she might see him without
those rose-colored glasses he thought she wore.
He realized now, she had never worn the glasses. He had. Deliberately. Because of pride. Because of that fear inside him that he’d lose her. And losing her was his greatest fear.
“Shower with me.” He picked her up, cradled her in his arms. “I’ll wash your back.”
He moved through the broken glass, took the stairs easily, held her to his heart.
“We’ll talk terms later.” She snuggled against him.
“What terms?”
“Marriage terms, Mr. Blake,” she informed him. “Our baby isn’t being born without a marriage. Don’t even consider it.”
Smug satisfaction filled her as he came to a blinding stop in their bedroom. He could feel his eyes widening, feel the panic that bit at his chest.
“What did you say?”
Her smile was female, triumphant. Loving.
“Our baby, Noah. When I went to the doctor yesterday, she told me. Antibiotics and birth control don’t mix, and I just didn’t think.”
He shook his head. “A baby?”
Their baby? Jesus. She was pregnant?
She cupped his jaw, kissed his lips, and whispered, “Our baby, Noah. I’m pregnant, with our baby.”
He set her slowly on her feet.
“I can’t wait to shower.” His cock was pounding. So hard it was brutal. The engorged length felt bruised. Desperate.
“Shower,” she whispered, caught his hand, and led him to the bathroom.
Mindless, in shock, he could only follow. He’d follow her, no matter where she led him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
He was alive. And he was hers.
Sabella stood beneath the shower, staring up at him. She couldn’t stop touching him. His face, his wet hair, his scarred chest, his powerful thighs. The heavy, thick erection that bobbed out from his body. Luscious and wide, dark and delectable.
She let him wash her hair. It was something he had always done years ago. Washed it slow and easy, threading his fingers through it as he conditioned it, kissing her brow, holding her to him. Then he washed her body.
She almost cried as he kissed the bruises on her cheek, whispered how sorry he was. Didn’t he know? It was worth it. It was all worth it to have him with her, to have him alive and touching her.
