Don't Tell (Don't 1)

“Damon, did you hear what I said?”

He nodded. “I’ll go get it now.”

“Wait.”

He turned slowly. He was in shock. He had to be.

“It could just be all the stress of the past few weeks.” I looked into his eyes. “I might be overreacting.”

I reached him in the doorway. He cradled my cheeks, drawing my lips upward. “I hope you are pregnant.”

“You do?” My eyes darted back and forth, trying to read his mood. It was the last reaction I expected from him.

“Yes, love.”

The words warmed me, sending heat through my chest. “I-I can’t believe this. You want a baby?” First a proposal, and now this.

His lips burned mine. The kiss was fiery and raw. I tried to catch my breath. I gripped his neck. I was off balance, falling into his arms.

“I want a baby,” he growled.

“Ok.” I nodded.

“Now, I’ll go get what you need. I don’t trust this errand with the staff. Wait here.” He broke free and disappeared to get dressed.

I heard him depart in one of the side tunnels instead of the elevator.

I returned to the chair. I couldn’t move. My hand instinctively moved to my belly. Was this really happening?

“How long did it say?” Damon paced outside the bathroom door.

I tugged on his arm. “It’s only three minutes,” I replied.

The suspense was killing both of us, but he didn’t handle this kind of wait well.

“Did I buy enough boxes?” he asked.

“Yes. I think six is plenty. Hopefully, one will be enough.” I tried to smile, but really all I wanted to do was throw up.

I still wasn’t sure how he had pulled off leaving the palace undetected and buying so many pregnancy tests, but he had learned to maneuver through the system.

“Should we look?” he pressed.

“Thirty seconds.” I held the timer up on my phone.

“Fuck. Someone needs to invent something that works faster.”

I giggled. “That is insane.”

He shot a cutting glare at me.

“Sorry.” I bit my lip. It was comical how ancy he had become. I was used to him pacing because of the cabinet, or the family, but this was different. It was adorable.

He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Damon, it might not be positive.” I tried to steady him. I didn’t want him to be disappointed if there was only one line on the stick.

He finally stopped making a track in front of the bed. He tugged the tie on my silk robe, pushing the fabric off my shoulder.