I bury my head in Michael’s shoulder. My body is still vibrating with pleasure. I can’t believe I allowed this to happen, again. What makes it worse is that I already want more. It might not be smart, nor even particularly safe, but Michael is different from any other man who has been in my life. He’s taken care of me, he’s gentle with me, and he makes me feel beautiful. He even seems to want me…even if I am pregnant. That’s weird to me, but I’m tired of second guessing and questioning everything. What we just shared, that was good—more than good. It was special.

Michael’s seen my weaknesses and he doesn’t mock them. He doesn’t use them against me. Again, it boils down to darkness. I’ve seen darkness inside of men, I’ve experienced it and Michael isn’t tainted with that. So, I lean into him and cherish being held by him, letting a few of the guards I keep up, slip. Which sucks because it leaves me totally unprepared for Michael’s next words.

“That shouldn’t have happened.” My body goes completely solid and tense when I hear him.

Those words aren’t what I expected. Nowhere close. I don’t know how to react to them, except that straddling his lap with my face buried in his neck, breathing in his scent definitely seems wrong now. I go to move off him, but he doesn’t let me. He keeps his hold on my body tight, not even letting me pull away. “That’s got to quit happening, Hayden,” he says, and his words wound me and piss me off at the same time.

I concentrate on the anger, that’s a better emotion to embrace than the hurt. I jerk, trying to pull away but again, he doesn’t let me.

“Let me up,” I tell him, pushing on his shoulders to get space between us.

“I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he tells me, and I hate that my body reacts to that sentence. I hate that his graveled voice rakes along every exposed nerve point I have, which is already raw from my climax. I hate it even while I can’t hide the way my body hums with the pleasure. The deep tone of his voice should be classified as a sexual weapon. It’s that potent. Damn him.

“I want up,” I insist, kind of lying, but mostly not.

“Why?” he asks, and he has the gall to sound confused.

“You just said you didn’t want what we did to happen again. Those aren’t words that makes me want to stay straddled on your lap.”

“I…”

“And honestly, it pisses me off, because you started it!”

“I started it?” he asks, and I can hear the shock in his voice.

“Yes! So, you don’t get to act all…” I can’t think of the words, so instead I snarl unintelligibly at him, pushing hard against his body, because I definitely want up now.

He lets me up, and I need something to do, so I grab a broom and start sweeping up the hair that I cut. When the broom finds the scissors and comb that I must have dropped when I kissed him, I really want to kick myself. I bend down to pick them up and in my anger, move too quickly and the room starts spinning. I nearly topple over, but Michael grabs me and keeps it from happening.

“Will you be careful!?” he growls, picking me up in his arms.

I drop the broom in surprise. I don’t respond, because I’m busy fighting a wave of nausea. Probably from being picked up like a sack of potatoes.

“This is what I’m talking about. You’re pregnant. We have no business doing what we’re doing. You’ve got to have more control!”

I’ve got to have more control?

“Me?” I screech. “You were the one who…who…”

“Who what?” he asks, finally lowering me onto the bed. I get up immediately, the room only marginally sways, so I brace myself by holding onto the headboard. Michael must see me stagger a little cause he growls, making a sound like a bear and adds, “I told you to be careful!”

“I’m fine, just mad! And you know what you did. You touched me…there,” I accuse him, sounding like I might be three.

“You liked it when I touched you there. I should get a medal for touching you there and not fucking you like I wanted!” he growls back and his words take my breath away. They do it for several reasons, but the only one my brain wants to focus on is that he wanted to sleep with me…okay no. He wanted to fuck me, which in my limited experience isn’t that special for a man, but the fact that he wanted to, and yet didn’t…

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, and even as I ask, I know that somewhere in the back of my mind I’m worried he didn’t because I wasn’t good enough.

“You should…why?” he asks, and his face shows clear shock, as if I should already know the answer.

“Never mind. We can just call it a day. You can go back to your place and…”

“You’re pregnant,” he interrupts me, and I feel myself blush.

I can feel the heat rise, and I kind of wish the floor would swallow me up. My hand goes to my stomach. I might be embarrassed, but I don’t regret Maggie. Even with everything that has happened, I’ve never once blamed Maggie. She didn’t ask to be brought into this world and she can’t help that her father is the spawn of Satan. I pray she’ll never know exactly who or what he is. I pray for that every day. Every. Day.

“It’s not like I’ve hidden that, Michael. I wouldn’t try, even if I could. I even reminded you of that when you took my shirt off. I really think it might be best if you just leave. I’m suddenly really tired.”

“Why would I want you to hide that you’re pregnant?”

“It obviously bothers you,” I tell him, needing out of the bedroom. I go to walk around him to go back to the kitchen when he grabs me by the upper arm. His touch is warm and feels so good. I ignore that feeling. I need him to leave—I need to get some distance here.

“Did it seem like it bothered me when you were riding my cock?”

“It’s obviously bothering you now,” I tell him, avoiding his eyes and wishing I could call him a liar.

“The hell it is. I think it’s fucking hot.”

“You think it’s hot I’m pregnant?” I ask, my body filled with heat and I don’t know if it’s from mortification, desire, or fear…It could be all three.

“Fuck, yes. You’re beautiful pregnant. I told you that already. Your breasts are full, the curve of your stomach, the softness you get in your eyes when you think of your daughter, and the way you hold your stomach without even realizing you’re doing it. It’s a fucking turn on,” Michael answers, and I’m at a loss on how to respond to that.

“Then why did you say we had to stop?” I ask, totally ignoring the fact that he thinks I’m hot because I’m pregnant. I’ll have to think about that later.

“I don’t know what’s gone on with you Hayden, but I know something has. I know the Dweller’s enough to know that whatever it is, has to be bad, and I’ve seen your damn panic attacks. The last thing you need is me making demands of you that you aren’t ready for.”

There’s a lot I should say—a lot I could say to him. Not to mention the fact that bringing up the Dwellers should jerk me back to reality enough that I do not say what I’m thinking. It should stop me cold. It doesn’t.

“What demands?” I ask, unable to stop myself, wondering why it feels like I’m on the edge of a cliff getting ready to jump.