Page 89 of Luxe

My jaw drops open, knowing full well what he had meant, but feeling like he deserved to be teased. "You want me to have your baby? Kylian! Yes!! I will be your baby mama!"

But instead of reacting like I'd hoped, turning pale, spluttering, running out of the room and leaving me forever, his eyes darken and his face is more serious than I've ever seen it. "Okay,” he says.

"What?" I yell, jumping out of the bed. "I was just kidding!"

"Oh, well, I wasn't."

"Kylian! Have you lost your ever-loving mind? We have"— I wave in the space between us— " only been doing this for one day! We cannot be talking about this. Oh, my god!"

He shrugs, dripping with nonchalance. "Why not?"

"Because... I don't even know your middle name!"

"It's Francis. Let's make a baby."

The words sound warbled and crystal clear all at once. And now, instead of scaring him, I've scared myself. I run out of the room and into the bathroom, jumping into the shower. Thoughts swirl around my head, about what the hell he and I are doing.

And then I notice... he hasn't chased me. He normally would’ve run after me.

Wait.

I storm out of the shower, not even bothering to turn it off and storm back into the bedroom. He's sitting back, hands clasped behind the back of his head, waiting.

"Wow, you're naked and wet."

I ignore him, shake my finger at him, glaring. "You're teasing me about the baby thing, aren't you?"

He grins and shrugs.

"Kylian!!!" I launch myself onto the bed, straddling his legs while I hit him with a pillow as he tries to defend himself with his elbows. "I thought you were fucking serious! I was thinking about all the ways I had to let you down about having your baby right now without hurting your feelings. I'd thought you'd been possessed by some baby hungry guy."

He tries to protect himself. "Ow. Help!! Kiki's attacking me!"

"Who are you talking to?"

"The baby hungry dude who’s possessing me. He says you came in here naked and wet; you must be onboard with the idea!"

"Shut up!" I pull back for some momentum and swing the pillow at him.

But he's too fast. He ducks out of the way and then grabs me, pinning me to the bed, his body weighing deliciously heavily against me.

"I was teasing you. But that doesn't mean that I wouldn't do it in a second. You and me, Kiara Yin. This is it for me. This, right here. You and me. This is it. Get used to it." He brushes the hair from my face. "Tell me you don't feel the same."

And I can't.

He punishes me for the pillow fight by taking me to the edge of coming for almost an hour. When he finally feels like I’ve had enough torture, he takes me, on my back, legs wrapped around his waist as he slides in and out of me at a frustratingly slow pace that builds to an orgasm that almost has me passing out and falling asleep again. At some point I jolt awake remembering that the shower is still running, and we take turns cleaning each other.

My stomach continues to protest the state of its emptiness and finally Kylian takes pity on me. He tells me to go pick a bottle of wine from his specially built vault while he ducks out to grab some supplies. When he comes back he banishes me from the kitchen while he "gets ready." I hide in the bedroom, making the bed and lying back down on it, grabbing the shirt I ripped off him when we got home from the poker club and burying my face in it. Can you get drunk on a smell? It smells just like him, a combination of his soap, aftershave and something unidentifiable. But it’s the scent that floats around me every time he pulls me in close to him, desperate and urgent, like he can’t bear for me to not be touching him at all times.

This is not at all what I had imagined being with him would be like.

All the thoughts, the wishing, the fantasies, I guess they had never gone much further than the first kiss... and maybe the first time we'd be together. I didn't think that I'd be instilled with an inebriating giddiness around him. Last night, I had barely been able to concentrate knowing he was sitting across the poker table watching my every move. That’s something I have never ever experienced. At the poker table I normally have laser focus. Every move, every breath, every word that's happening around me, my brain filters out the important information, finding patterns, identifying the difference between the authentic, involuntary reactions and the disingenuous movements aimed at manipulating and controlling the game.

But last night, the only moves, breaths, words that I cared about were his.

I am lost in him.

I don’t know my way out.

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