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With anything.
But then, once again, my heart speaks up with irritation and tells me that I knowexactlywhat needs to be done. What I should have done ages ago.
Stop. Fucking. Pretending.
6
CLARA
I wake up with the dawn. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve done that without being afraid of what the day will bring.
My limbs stretch as I yawn, anddamn, I feel better than I have in a long time. Nothing’s perfect, of course; there are still plenty of creaks and aches that will take time to heal.
But the pain I’ve been carrying has been more than physical. It’s been emotional, psychological, spiritual.
Now? I feel like I’ve been given a full-body massage, inside and out.
I blink.
Technically, I have…
I roll onto my side and almost yelp with surprise. Demyen’s sittingright there, in some masculine study of throne-like furniture. Staring at me.
Has he slept at all?
I tug the sheet up over my breasts and blush. I know it’s ridiculous to hide from the same man who’s rocked my world, repeatedly, but… I don’t know where we stand. And I don’t know if he actually wants to see my ladybits or if that was just a pity fuck we both needed.
“Good morning,” I offer in greeting.
Demyen simply grunts.
Alrighty then. That answers a few pressing questions.
I pull myself upright so I’m at least sitting against the pillows. Good thing, too, because just those few small movements make me wince. Not in pain, necessarily, just…
Goddamn. The man knows how to fuck a woman raw.
He’s also done a marvelous job painting my body with his personal brand. I feel my face grow hotter as I take a subtle inventory of my chest and legs, and almost drop my jaw in horror when I see his teeth marks on my stomach.
He doesn’t know about the baby, right? I mean, there’s no way he knows. He couldn’t possibly?—
I clear my throat and pull my wits together. What’s left of them, at least. When I remind myself to at least give him a smile, I catch him texting someone right before he gets up out of the chair.
“Where are you going?”Ugh, I sound so pathetic.
Demyen’s wicked mouth curves into a smirk. He tosses his phone onto the bed and starts rummaging through his dresser. “Ordered us some breakfast. Now, I’m getting dressed. I figured Gloria doesn’t want my sausage as much as I want hers.”
My laugh comes out in the ugliest snort. But oh my God, when’s the last time I actually laughed?
He notices. He seems pleased. He doesn’t exactly hand me an award for the accomplishment, but he does toss me a large t-shirt. “Here’s this if you want it—but don’t cover up on my account. I’m enjoying the view.”
I bet he is. And despite being a way to lighten the tension in the room, it strikes a chord inside me that sends a wave of relief through my rattled nerves.
Maybe it wasn’t just a pity fuck.
If he means it, if he really does like seeing me like this, in his bed… maybe he’s telling the truth?
Maybe he really does want to fix whatever this is between us.
