A soft gasp from her and he stopped, poised over her, waiting.
Lyssa wriggled beneath him, confused at the pleasure the brief jolt of pain stirred within her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, gripped the sleek muscles of his back with her hands, and she arched up toward him, silently urging him on.
Mike complied, his thrusts pushing her body deeper into the thick mattress and silk sheets cocooning them. Every touch drew her closer to the edge. Tugging her toward the danger of falling, tumbling into the trap of emotions she knew awaited her since assigning the role of lover to Mike.
It won’t last. No one could love you. No one wanted you
. The bitter voice of Aaron Lawrence slithered through her mind. Lyssa countermanded the thoughts.
No, he loves me. I believe him. I do.
A soft snicker sounded in her head.
How could he love a liar like you? How can anyone love a liar?
The accusations were irrefutable. She had lied to Mike. Doubt circled, the whispers growing louder, but she slapped a gag on it.
Fuck off, I’m not listening
. And she wasn’t, not any more.
He loves me and I love him and when the time is right, I’ll tell Mike about our baby, but not yet
. The thoughts dissipated like early morning fog. She suspected they’d return, but she was ready, confident she’d be able to face them and win.
Her resolve must have increased the color in her cheeks. She could feel the power and strength trickle through her. It seemed to have communicated itself to Mike, because his body stilled over her.
Dark eyes gazed down at her, asking questions she was uncomfortable answering right now. Frustration tightened his features, but only for an instant. Humor lifted his lips as he leaned close and pressed a kiss to her lips. When he drew back, Mike winked at her. “Wonder if you’re actually carrying triplets like Mattie did?”
Lyssa groaned, recalling the first pregnancy her sister had gone through within weeks of her marriage. “You better pray it doesn’t happen, kid.”
Mike nuzzled her throat. “Why’s that?”
She nipped his neck and waited until he looked down at her. “If it’s triplets, there’ll be no more playtime for your dragon. Ever.”
His laughter vibrated against her chest and he increased his pace. “Ah, you forget, pet. I still make the rules.”
When Lyssa opened her mouth to snap back at him, her words vanished on a gasp of pleasure. Deft fingertips rubbed over and around her clit, making her body tremble at the tingles skating up and down her spine. This time, she assured herself as she curled tighter around him, soaking up the heat and passion his lovemaking evoked, she’d let him have the last word.
But only this time. Mike needed a strong woman. He deserved
her
, and Lyssa intended to keep her dom on his toes.
Chapter Fifteen
Throughout the examination the following afternoon, Mike stood beside her, holding her hand and whispering reassurances when her thoughts strayed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the fear circling inside her mind about the baby she’d lost. It occupied her every thought. Weakening the determination she’d finally tapped into last night.
“Well,” the doctor began as she eased Lyssa’s feet from the stirrups, “I’m going to go check with the nurse about the tests. Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll talk when I get back.”
Lyssa nodded. She’d mentioned to the doctor the spots of blood she’d discovered this morning as well as the light bout of cramps that had woken her. Both frightened her. She worried that her body was determined to thwart any efforts to get pregnant.
Listlessly she let Mike help her off the table and out of the paper gown. Getting dressed seemed to sap what little energy she had. Mike didn’t try to reassure her as he carefully fastened the buttons of her blouse. The stockings she’d worn he left tucked in his pocket. When she moved to return to the cold table, he stopped her, tugging her into his lap as he settled onto the extra chair, uncaring of its lumpy cushions or the inflexible back that forced him into an upright position. Draping her legs over one of the arms, he held her close and eased her head down on his shoulder.
Out of his pocket, he pulled three lengths of string. Taking her left hand in his, he carefully wound each piece around her ring finger, lining them up next to each other. The first was green, the second blue, and the last black.
Lyssa touched the strings with the fingers of her right hand. “What’re these for?”
“Trying to decide.”
“Decide what?” Lyssa rolled the threads up against one another as she recalled the gold thread he’d put on her finger weeks ago.
“Whether I should get you an emerald, sapphire, or opal ring to go with your wedding band.” Mike lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the string-wrapped finger. “I’m thinkin’ opal. Black fire opal to be exact. Halsey tradition, you know.”
“Mike, you don’t have to—”
His fingers covered her lips. “Even if the doc comes in and says you aren’t pregnant, Lys, I’m taking you home and marrying you once you’re feeling better.” His hand smoothed her hair away from her cheek. She never raised her eyes from the tiny embroidered insignia on the left breast of his polo shirt.
Before he could get her to respond, the doctor tapped on the door, then entered. “Well, Lys, you’ll no longer need that referral to the fertility clinic you requested last month. Looks like you’re going to be a mom.”
“But—” Lyssa shifted on his lap, swinging her legs off the arm of the chair to settle beside his.
“There was a minimal amount of spotting. It has been known to happen, but we’ll keep an eye on it if it returns.” The doctor glanced down at the chart.
Mike chuckled as he pulled Lyssa close. One hand strayed to the curve of her belly, stroking over the fabric of her blouse. She wondered if he was trying to imagine what she’d look like in another month or two.
“The good news is you’re healthy and aware of your condition early enough that we can keep a careful watch for any problems.”
“Are you sure? About the spotting?” Lyssa asked. Desperate for reassurance, she pressed the doctor. “It started the same way last time. I don’t think—I can’t lose my baby… Not again.”
The muscles in Mike’s thighs tensed beneath her, and Lyssa realized what she’d said. She couldn’t look at him, too afraid to see the expression on his face.
The woman leaned forward and squeezed Lyssa’s hand. “Although there still could be complications, you’ll have consistent prenatal care from the very start. We’ll do everything we can to make sure you carry
this
baby to term, Lyssa.”
When Lyssa hazarded a glimpse at Mike’s face, suspicion mingled with disbelief in his features as he released his hold on her. It remained in the lines bracketing his mouth as he listened to the instructions the doctor gave about diet and exercise while scribbling a prescription for prenatal vitamins.
“I’ll expect to see you next month, Lyssa.” The doctor reminded her as she left the room.
Mike remained quiet as he rose and helped her put her coat on. This time, each move was precise and distant. He’d already begun to slip away from her, and the only person to blame was herself.
* * *
Mike stayed quiet on the drive from Lyssa’s doctor’s office to her home. The sun had begun to set when he pulled into the drive. Everything began to fall into place. His mind replayed various incidents when he’d first come to Lyssa to discuss Rite of First Claim. The way she’d hurriedly stuffed some papers in one of the kitchen drawers. The odd marks he’d spotted on the calendars throughout the house. The fact that she’d admitted to never having a lover after him, but she’d had a new box of condoms in her nightstand with only six missing. Possibly the same six she’d taken to the Club the night of the masquerade.
When he mentally reviewed the comments the doctor and Lyssa had made, his suspicions only deepened. Every time he came to the phrases “fertility clinic,” “not again,” and “
this
baby,” he pushed down the anger that threatened to rise up. It was under control as he assisted Lyssa from his truck and followed her into the house.
While she deactivated the alarm, he crossed the hall, moved through the kitchen to the far cabinets, and yanked open a drawer. The image of a smiling baby taunted him as he lifted the brochure. It wasn’t the only one. Grabbing the pile, he pulled them out and slammed the drawer shut.
On the wall beside him, notes scribbled into the squares on a calendar drew his attention. Small red letters,
ov-x
, marked the Monday after Thanksgiving. He tugged the calendar from its hook and flipped back to October. The same small red
ov-x
marked the day before Halloween. Another was marked in the month of September, along with plus and minus signs before and after it.
Lyssa watched him from a seat at the kitchen table, her face paling as he carried the pamphlets and calendar over and dropped them in front of her.
“It was all a setup, wasn’t it, Lyssa?” It took every ounce of strength he had to keep his voice level and calm. He didn’t want to believe the evidence before him, but he hoped—prayed—she’d refute it.
“Yes.”
The quiet way she admitted what she’d done shattered something inside him. “You went to the Club looking for a goddamned stud, not a master, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes.” Her blue eyes stared back at him.
“Kringle?”
Another nod.
“The condoms?” He suspected, but he needed to hear her admit it.
“I poked holes in them.”
He thought back to the box he’d found in her nightstand. The one they’d quickly depleted and replaced the first week of her training. “All of them?”
She shook her head. “Only the ones I took to the Club.”
“To use with Kringle.”
It wasn’t a question, but she responded. “Yes.”
“Why?” It was a moot question. Based on the evidence spread over the table, he knew what her answer was likely to be.
Her gaze dropped, and her hands moved to cover her belly. “I wanted a baby.”
“And you got it.” The words felt like acid as he spit them out. Mike braced his hands on the table and measured her responses carefully. “But you don’t want the man who put that baby inside you, do you?”
The shake of her head was barely perceptible, but it was there. If she’d taken a knife to him, it would have hurt less, Mike reasoned. As it was, the soft words she uttered felt like they ripped the soul from his body.
“That wasn’t part of my plan.”
“If I hadn’t brought home that test, would you have told me about it?”
“I don’t know,” Lyssa confessed, holding his gaze.
Mike pulled back and took a step away from the table. “Would you have lied to me about this baby the way you lied to me the last time?”
She flinched. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” It wasn’t a question, more a restatement of her response to make sure he’d heard her correctly.
“I can explain,” she offered, her hands returning to the tabletop, clasped together in front of her.
He gripped the ladder back of the kitchen chair. In the twenty-minute drive from the doctor’s downtown office back to Lyssa’s house, he’d controlled his reaction for as long as he could. With the evidence of how she’d manipulated him splayed out on the table between them—Mike could feel the tether on his emotions slipping away. As much as he wanted to, and even though he’d been doing the questioning, he realized now definitely wasn’t the time to start hashing things out between them. “I’m not sure I want to discuss this right now, Lys.”
“I think we need to talk about this, Mike.”
“No”—Mike slammed the chair against the table and moved back toward the kitchen—“you don’t want me to talk about this.” In his peripheral vision, he saw her jump, and a small part of him felt vindicated by her fear. Drawing a deep breath, he worked to refocus his energy and lessen the pain trying to gain a foothold in his chest.
“I do want—”
“No, you don’t.” Mike swung around, unsure just what he was feeling and how to put it into perspective. “I need a little more time to process this.”
“I want—”
“Right now, hon, what you
want
isn’t sitting very high on my priority list.” He curled his fingers into fists, then relaxed them several times in an attempt to calm down. Verbally berating her wasn’t going to resolve the problem. It would only create a wall between them. He’d had enough of barriers these last weeks while he’d tried seducing her to his way of thinking.
Lyssa tugged at the hem of her blouse, then crossed her arms over her breasts. “I meant to tell you. All this month, I’ve tried screwing up the courage.”
“You do not want to start this. Not now.”
“But I need—”
He could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes, but it did nothing to stem the rage boiling up inside him. In two strides, he’d returned to the table. He slammed his fist down on the surface, making several of the brochures slide off the edge onto the floor and the bowl of fruit in the center of the table jump. An orange tumbled off the pile and rolled toward Lyssa, tracking across a blurry black-and-white photo that lay among the brochures. Mike reached it before Lyssa and lifted the image for a better view.
He’d seen similar pictures in small frames on his brother’s desk at home and work. “
Baby’s first picture
,” Bryce had called them and proudly displayed the ultrasounds for anyone to see.
Numbers in the corner proclaimed the date and time the image had been recorded. It was hard for him to focus on the picture, his hands were shaking so hard. Fire seared his throat, but he forced a question out. “Did you know when I cornered you at Mattie and Bryce’s wedding?”
“I-I suspected.”
He traced his fingers over the tiny whitish blob in the center of the image, unable to look at Lyssa. “And when I came to your house after returning from Kabul? You lied again.”
“Yes, but I tried—”
“Boy or girl?” He barely recognized the croak he emitted. Tears burned his eyes and clogged his throat. When she stayed silent, he lifted his gaze to hers. He held the picture up. “Tell me, Lyssa. Was this my son or my daughter?”