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Nemesis stilled, knowing that I needed this. This moment where it was just me and her, the world around us blurring into nothing.
Finally, she swiveled in my arms, pressing her thumbs on my cheeks, plastering her forehead against mine.
“Wolfe?”
“Yes, my love?”
“I’m late.”
My heart skipped a beat, but not a muscle in my face moved.
“Late for what?” I asked, just to be sure.
False hope would be crushing, but I couldn’t help myself.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Her voice was soft as always, but also a little scared.
I tangled my fingers in her hair and pulled her into me, kissing her with decadent hunger. With pleasure so potent, so sweet it exploded in my mouth as I pushed my tongue past her lips.
She moaned, instantly molding her small, feminine body with mine.
I kissed her and I kissed her, and as I did, I felt the salty, hot tears she cried silently. A mixture of happiness, fear, and confusion, I assumed.
“Is that why you didn’t touch the alcohol?” I murmured into her lips.
She made a noise of confirmation, adding, “It’s also why I didn’t touch Rispo.”
That earned her a teasing bite on her lower lip. I tugged it for good measure, sucking it into my mouth.
She broke off our kiss, placing a hand over my chest, studying my eyes intently.
“It was when I went outside to smoke a cigarette when I realized I couldn’t stand the scent of the smoke. I tossed the pack into the trash can and promised myself I’d take a test as soon as I got home. Does it make you happy?”
“Of course,” I said, without missing a beat. “The more you tie your destiny to mine, the happier I am. As far as I’m concerned, we should have seventeen children.” I gave it some thought. “And share a bladder, just in case.”
She giggled, burying her face in my chest. I drew her into a hug.
“Wolfe?”
“Yes?”
She tilted her head up, staring up at me with all the love and adoration in the world. She pressed a soft kiss to my lips. It was dry, it was small, but it somehow meant more than any other kiss she’d ever given me.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“You’re no longer The Kiss Thief,” she answered. “Now, you’re the owner of all my kisses. At least until the baby comes.”
I hoisted her up my arms and carried her the short distance to bed.
I guessed it was true, what they said.
Not all fairytales are written in the same way.
Because in mine?
The villain won.
