“Wow. I’m amazed at all the things you’re not allowed to do while you’re pregnant,” Esme said later that night. She was dutifully lying with her hips raised on a plump pillow beneath the covers after another round of baby-making sex with Z. Surprisingly, he hadn’t bailed right afterward this time. Instead, he was kicking back in his boxer briefs in one of the chairs in the small sitting area adjacent to the bed.

He glanced up at her from the security reports he was going over. “Seriously? It’s a bit soon be reading that, don’t you think?”

She flipped the book over to stare at the cover of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. “Just like to know what I’m in for, I suppose.”

Z grunted then went back to his reading.

“Anything interesting in there?” she asked him a short time later, surprisingly grateful for his company. “Anything I should be worried about?”

“Nah.” He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just your run-of-the-mill death threats and stalkers.”

Esme reached one leg over and poked him hard with her toe. “Not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be. You need to take all of this stuff even more seriously now that you’re going to have a baby. Though, no, I don’t think there’s anything overly concerning here, even if a couple of these whack jobs seem to have quite a bit of intel on you.”

“That’s unsettling.” She shimmied a tad further under the covers, Z’s scent surrounding her. She’d pulled on his T-shirt tonight after sex because one of the websites she’d been researching had suggested that having his pheromones close by was supposed to make her body more receptive and thus increase her chances of conception. And yes, she realized it was all most likely a bunch of malarkey, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Besides, Z had said she looked cute in it, so there was that. The thought that he found her attractive sent shivers of happiness through her despite her determination to keep this all strictly business.

“Right,” Z said, setting his reports aside then stretching, showing off all his muscled limbs and tanned torso to perfection. “So, tell me what’s on this no-no list.”

“No-no list?” Es narrowed her gaze on him, her smile wry. “Well, let’s see. No deli meat. No soft cheese. No motorcycle riding. No sushi. Limited caffeine.”

“Ugh. That’s no fun at all.”

“Agreed. Though surprisingly, there are no restrictions on getting a tattoo.”

“Really?” Z straightened and strolled over to stretch out on the bed beside her and peek at the page. His heat made the entire right side of her body tingle in the best way. “Huh. Who knew? Guess it makes sense though, as long as it’s a reputable shop and they clean and sterilize everything properly. Usually Hep B and HIV are the biggest concerns when needles are involved. Learned that from the guys when we were overseas. Some of those places weren’t careful at all.”

“Yikes.” Es shuddered. “Is that why you don’t have any ink?”

“Nope.” He rolled over onto his back and covered his eyes with one arm. “My philosophy is if you’re going to get something permanent on your body, you’d best make sure you’ll want it around forever. So far, I’ve not found anything or anyone to put my ‘forever’ faith in.”

“Good point.” Esme closed her book and set it aside, then rubbed a hand over her flat stomach. “Maybe I’ll get a tattoo once I get pregnant, to commemorate the struggle.”

“That’s a bad idea, princess.”

Confused, she frowned over at him. “Why? Lots of people do it, and you just said yourself they’re safe, if done right. Why shouldn’t I get one? A baby is an important time in a girl’s life. Might be nice to have a physical memento of that.”

“No. Too many things could go wrong, that’s why.” Z rolled on his side to face her, his blond hair tousled and sparkling golden in the light from the bedside lamp. It was close to midnight now and the world was silent around them, making it all seem very cozy and intimate. “Think about it, princess.”

Gah. When he called her that, it made her insides quiver. Which was silly. It was her official title, thousands of people called her Princess Esme every day. But none of them said it with that hint of sexy growl and fierce alpha-protectiveness that Z did. Heady stuff, that.

Z continued, unaware of the riot of need his deep voice caused inside her. “If you get one, it has to be something you’ll want to wear forever, like I said. Something you have forever faith in. What if something goes wrong with all this?” He waved a hand over her body. “Or what if you don’t end up getting pregnant at all? Worse, what if you do get pregnant, have the baby and end up losing your throne anyway, huh? That’s still a very real possibility, much as I hate to say it, princess. Is that a memory you’d want to wear around with you forever?”

Esme looked away, arms crossed. “There are never any guarantees in life. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith or do things that don’t make sense at the time because they just make you feel good in the moment. Don’t you ever just want to break free, have some fun?”

Z snorted. “Fun’s overrated.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

Her mind wandered back to the conversation she’d had with her father earlier that day about Z’s past. Things between them seemed more relaxed now, more open, and she took a shot. “Tell me about your time in the SEALs. Surely you had enough faith in them to get some kind of tattoo, right?”

“Like I said, a lot of the guys did. I didn’t.” He sat up and turned away, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and putting his back to her. He hunched over and raked his hands through his hair. “Suffice it to say that I don’t really have that kind of faith in anyone these days, okay?”

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to erase that hint of melancholy in his voice, but from his body language, he was shutting her out again. The air around her turned colder, and she snuggled down farther beneath the duvet. “Could you though? Someday? Maybe if we have a baby together and—”

He stood and paced over to pick his jeans up off the floor and tug them on. “I don’t know, princess. Sorry. Families can be ripped apart in an instant and from what I’ve seen, nothing lasts forever.” He zipped up his pants and padded over to the door. “I’m going back to my room now. We both need a good night’s sleep. See you in the morning, princess.”

For a long time after he left, Esme lay there staring at the door, imagining the pain he must carry inside every day and mourning for the lost little boy still grieving inside him. She fell asleep with her hand on her stomach, vowing never to let something like that happen to her baby.