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I also tell him about my recovery after the crash, what’s broken and what physical therapy I’m doing to get better. He nods at it all, soaking in the information.

After a little while of him playing with my hair, us just talking and basking in the presence of each other peacefully for the first time in a long time, we fall asleep. It’s a dreamless, peaceful sleep. I feel him breathing against me, his arm twitching under my head from whatever he’s dreaming about.

I wake up to the empty bed, the sound of the shower running in the bathroom attached to his room. The bathroom door is cracked open, the steam from the shower pouring out. Hobbling out of bed, grabbing my walker and waddling my way to the bathroom. I open the door, leaning against the frame, taking in the sight in front of me, my hand on my growing belly.

Dmitri stands in the glass shower facing away from me, giving me a perfect view of his bubble butt. The man has a nice butt, sue me.

“Like what you see, Moss?” He turns around, giving me an even better view of his semi-erect cock. His skin was littered with bruises and cuts, and I hate that they hurt him. He leans slightly on the wall, the pain probably starting to come back. He has good drugs, but they don’t last forever.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with a swollen stomach and a small human inside it playing with my organs,” I huff, waddling over to the shower. I screech an awful noise as he opens the door and pulls me in with him, careful of my injuries and making sure I have my walker in here to get out. I yell at him for soaking my bra and shorts.

“Dmitri,” I laugh. His eyes are glazed over, lust swirling in them. He moves my walker to the side, holding me up and steady with his hands on my hips.

“I love my name on your pretty lips,” he whispers, his hands resting on my shoulders. I pray our daughter doesn’t get his height. My neck already kills me looking up at him all the time.

He drops to his knees, wincing at the pain. “Dmitri, get up, don’t hurt yourself.” He chuckles, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my shorts before pulling them down fully, helping me step out of them before he throws them through the open door onto the tile outside the shower.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. Worry about this pussy once I’m done with it.” I yelp when he slaps my pussy, a stinging yet pleasurable pain coming from it. My hands grip his shoulders as tight as possible, my nails digging into his skin.

He rests his hands on my belly, his little girl kicking at them. He puts his lips to my belly, whispering, “You better quit that, Missy. I’m your daddy.” I laugh at his words, feeling so full of emotion at this moment. His lips press right above my belly button, hands sliding to my hips and gripping the skin.

Before I know it, I’m bawling my eyes out. The emotion is too overwhelming to keep inside. Hearing my sniffles, Dmitri stands up and cradles my face in his hands. “What’s wrong, Moss? You were just laughing.” His tone is worried, concern etched on every inch of his gorgeous face.

“I don’t want this to end,” I sob, putting my hands over my face and letting the tears spill. Dmitri’s hand curls through my hair, pulling slightly so I’ll drop my hands and look at him.

“Moss, I can’t lose you. Being away for the past several months has been killing me. I looked at the stars every night, knowing you’re under the same ones, just so far away from my grasp. It killed me to not be here.” His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my tears away. I lean into his touch, craving the feeling of him.

“Why did you leave?” I question, the emotions still controlling me.

“They knew you were my weakness, Penelope. Marcus talked about your body, and I’ve never felt more rage in my life. I needed to show them you were not my weakness. I didn’t want them to hurt you. You’ve already been through enough pain, I didn’t want to be the cause of more.” He takes a shaky breath. “But you are my weakness. From the moment I saw your eyes pleading with me to take you. I knew you would be mine from the fucking second I saw you. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt. I am weak man. I can’t do this life. Be a leader, a killer, a machine. Because I’d do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant dying myself.”

He presses his hands to my belly, they are so big they cover all my skin. It would be funny if we were in a different situation. “Nobody’s asking you to be a leader, or to be strong. It’s okay to fall a little bit. You had a very hard childhood. I know some of the things you’ve been through.” He looks at me in confusion and fear, questions running through his mind.

“Viktor told me some things to help me understand you better. I’ll tell you what I told him when he was struggling,” I pause, taking a deep breath. Tracing my fingers gingerly over his scars, pausing before I reach for the scar that runs the length of his face.

“The scars are a sign of strength. The divots in your skin show you survived something. Not just you, but your mind, your heart. You both faced betrayal your whole life, these are a sign you’re still alive after it. Your heart is still beating, your mind is still strong. You are strong, even if you think you aren’t.”

His eyes brim with unshed tears, his bottom lip trembling. He chuckles out a sob, leaning his forehead on mine. “Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you?” I laugh at his response, my own tears in my eyes.

He picks me up gently, my baby bump not letting us be as close as I want, and I wrap my legs around his naked torso, pulling him in as much as I can. The soreness in my pelvis and legs is long gone at his touch.

His lips press on mine, ever so gently, so full of caring, admiration, and love. As much as I don’t want to admit this, I think I love him. As much as he’s hurt me, I can’t help but fall for him.

*This book is an advance reader copy and is to not be distributed anywhere. [email protected]*

34

Chapter Thirty-Four

Simple Man - Lynyrd Skynyrd

Riot

Penelope fell asleep almost instantly after we got out of the shower. I supported her as much as I could, pushing my own pain to the back of my mind. Her injuries are more important, she’s more important.

I helped her get into new clothes, forcing her to wear my shirt and some sleep shorts. My shirt drowns on her, her baby bump protruding a little bit.

She’s cuddled into my side, her leg thrown over mine as she lies on my arm, her hands curled to her chest. Her blonde hair tangles in my fingers, falling on her shoulders and face.