Don't Promise (Don't 3)

Molly

“Oh God.” I fell back on the bed. Every part of my body felt exquisitely sensitive. Sex had never felt like that before. The way he touched me was like lightning shooting from his fingers. My nipples tingled. My clit buzzed. I was still on fire even after three orgasms.

Damon nuzzled behind me. He ran his fingers along my arm, twining them between mine. The ring was the only thing I had on.

“I should have Sutcliffe clear my schedule so we can spend the entire day like this,” he growled. “We could never leave the bed.”

I nodded. “Can we?”

“I wish. But Galonians might not accept how much we enjoy fucking each other as an excuse to ignore my royal duty to them.” He laughed.

I twisted to face him. His body was damp with sweat. I placed my palm over his chest. I could feel his heart still beating wildly. I kissed his tanned skin.

“What is today?” I asked. It was easy to lose track of time in the palace.

“The thirtieth. I have a cabinet meeting this afternoon. Why?”

The deadline to schedule my study at the London Institute was tomorrow. I had been a coward for two weeks. Afraid to suggest abandoning Damon while he dealt with Dominic’s health. He needed me to stay. And the thought of asking him if I could leave for six weeks seemed out of the question.

But I hadn’t sent my reply.

I counted back on the calendar. In a month’s time my life had changed more dramatically than any fictional character’s in any piece of literature I had studied. One month of Damon had turned everything upside down.

“Wait, are you sure it’s the thirtieth?”

He nodded. “There is always a cabinet meeting the last day of the month. I’m sure. But I was thinking maybe the middle of next month in between sessions we could go somewhere. A pre-honeymoon, honeymoon.”

“A month,” I whispered.

He tilted his head. “Yes.”

I sat up in bed. “Oh shit.” I hopped off the side and slid a robe on. My phone was on the dining table. I ran through the apartment.

“Molly?” Damon followed me through the apartment naked.

I grabbed my phone from my purse and pulled up the calendar.

I looked at him.

It had been six weeks since my last period.

“Molly, what’s wrong?”

I didn’t know what to say. I sat on one of the chairs embroidered with the Sauvage family crest in the center. My head spun. Was it possible I was pregnant? I had heard stories about IUDs not working, but I couldn’t be one of those cautionary tales, could I? This wasn’t the time to fall into an online rabbit hole of birth control gone-wrong blog posts. I needed the truth.

I had gone to bed last night with a terrible headache. I had blamed it on too much screen time researching. I had fallen asleep two days ago while I was working on chapter outlines in the middle of the afternoon. I had been exhausted all week, but my body was coursing with heightened sexual energy like never before. And the smell of the champagne this morning had made my stomach turn. The signs had been creeping up on me the past couple of days, only I hadn’t noticed them—or maybe I didn’t want to.

“I think I need to buy a pregnancy test,” I blurted.

He was silent and motionless.

“Damon, did you hear what I said?”

He nodded. “I’ll go get one now.”

“Wait.”

He turned slowly. He was in shock. He had to be. I expected him to curse or roar. React with his deepest emotions.