Page 66 of Shark’s Rise

“Abbigail?” I called her name and then again at louder volume, but she didn’t respond.

I changed out of my suit, putting on some lounge pants and a T-shirt. The whole time, I told myself nothing was wrong. Abbi had simply gone downstairs for a snack or was out back in the casita with Dori. I chuckled to myself, knowing I’d look there first. Offering Dori that eye-popping raise was the best decision I’d made in a long time. The woman was rapidly becoming Abbi’s friend as much as assistant and had brought some much-needed laughter back to my girl’s face.

Which was why the sound of Abbigail’s tears had me stopping in place.

At first, I even dismissed it as an aberration of the wind or a strange-sounding bird. But as I came out of my walk-in closet, I heard it again. Louder now. A stab straight to my gut.

Because it was definitely weeping.

And it was absolutely coming from somewhere in this room.

Abbi’s closet?

“Abbi?” I called again. Still no reply. But when I listened closer, I heard sniffles. Her sniffles. I knew that as fact—deep in my belly.

Heeding that same inner instinct, I pushed at her closet door.

Sure enough, she was inside the grand enclosure. Curled up on the floor. Crying her eyes out.

“Baby?” I managed to croak, despite the panic surging me. “What’s wrong? Abbi, are you okay? Is it the baby?” I dropped to my knees in front of her and frantically scanned her from head to toe. It had been a few days since she’d thrown up, and we were both hopeful we were coming out of the worst of the hyperemesis gravidarum. “Did you throw up?” Though I could usually tell if she had with a glance at her pallor and posture. “Do you need to get to the toilet?”

“No. No, I’m fine. The baby’s fine.” She hiccupped and clutched my arms as I helped her stand. Her round belly looked so beautiful, naked beneath her open robe.

“So what’s wrong?” Continued panic pushed it out again, making me sound like a bull with a freight train up its ass. Couldn’t be helped. I was terrified, and this was my default. “Why are you crying? Abbi, please talk to me.”

Christ, these fluctuating hormonal mood swings were going to be the death of me. Although she’d always been a crier, the bouts had gotten worse with the pregnancy. She clung to me like polyester clothing charged with static electricity.

“Baby.” I pulled back, trying to see her face under the red curtain of her hair. I stroked the strands away from her tear-soaked cheeks. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I scooped her up with my arm beneath her knees, carried her out to our bed, and laid her down with her head on the pile of pillows.

“You have to tell me what you need, Red, so I can give it to you. We’ve been through this before.” Her green eyes finally showed some response. Thank God. My dominant tone usually did the trick on jarring her, no matter what sort of funk she’d worked herself into.

She tilted her head a little higher.

And with that look, gave me exactly what I’d asked for.

I knew what she wanted now, all right.

Even through the tears, her sexual need was thick and heavy and palpable. My libido responded at once. My heartrate doubled. My cock jerked in my thin pants. A low growl worked up and then out of my throat.

I climbed onto the bed with her. I didn’t waste time on tender foreplay. Right away, I straddled her hips but settled most of my weight back on my bent legs.

“What can I do for you, Abbigail?” A wide swath of creamy skin was exposed between the open halves of her robe, her round belly and lower half covered still. I ran my fingers across her chest and along her collarbones, from one shoulder to the other. Her breath caught in her throat. When she exhaled again, her crying transformed into a needy moan.

“Sssshhh, baby. We’ll get there.” I kept touching her. Needing the contact of my skin against hers. “But first, tell me why you were crying.”

“Oh, God,” she rasped. “Just…just touch me, Bas. More. Everywhere.”

“The truth first,” I said. “I don’t like finding you crying when I come home, my love. Did something happen with Dori?”

“No. No, I love her,” she insisted.

“Good. I’m glad.” I ran my fingers across her collarbones again, this time scratching my nails along her skin too. Abbi’s eyes fluttered closed. She tossed her face against the pillows.

“So good,” she mewled. “Oh, Bas. That’s so…good…”

“Look at me,” I dictated. As soon as she complied, I repeated, “Tell me, Red.”