Don't Tell (Don't 1)

“Please,” she whispered.

I lifted her in my arms and carried her to bed.

40

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 stay in bed all day.”

I nodded. “Can we?”

“I wish. But Galonians might not understand how much we enjoy fucking each other.” 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. I lost track of time in the palace.

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

The deadline for accepting the grant to London was tomorrow. I had been a coward for two weeks. Afraid that leaving while Damon dealt with Dominic’s health was too much to ask. He needed me to stay. And the thought of suggesting I 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 piece of literature I had studied. An entire 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 a 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 writing. I had fallen asleep two days ago, working on my chapter outlines in the middle of the afternoon. I had been exhausted all week, but my body was a bundle of sexual energy like it never had been. 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 else I didn’t want to.

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

blurted.

He was silent and motionless.