The Greek's Pregnant Bride

It wasn’t that she worried he would bawl her out for her ungrateful attitude—God alone knew, she wished she’d been blessed with acting genes so she could fake pleasure for him—because he didn’t bawl her out over anything. She knew when she displeased him, though. He might not verbalise it, keeping his anger contained within him, but it was there in his eyes and the tone of his voice when he wasn’t quick enough to curb it.

She wished he would bawl her out. At least it would show he felt something for her, that she was worth expending some hot air arguing with.

The main reason she hadn’t wanted to sit in the back of the car with him was because spending time alone with him had the effect of turbo-charging her emotions. It would be easier to contain if it were just sexual feelings but it ran so much deeper than that. Whenever they listened to their baby’s heartbeat, she longed to reach out to him and clasp his hand, to unite for those few magical seconds.

Sitting alone in the back of the car with him, his hard, warm body so close...

She wanted to reach out and grab more than his hand. She wanted to climb onto his lap and nuzzle into that strong neck that smelled so good, taste the smooth skin...

Far from the distance she’d imposed lessening these longings, it had only increased them. She needed proper physical distance, and not just emotional distance, because keeping only an emotional distance wasn’t working. The three days apart they’d just had were nothing. Three months might do the trick.

At least tomorrow she had an overnight trip to London without him.

meals and drinks, both opting to go straight into the main course. While

restaurant. They’d had to sit close to each other to make themselves heard. They’d talked about anything and everything,

as if she were dragging barbed wire from her

was normal, Christian’s phone vibrated at regular

answer it,’ she said upon the

shrugged. ‘Whoever it

‘It might be important.’

on hers. ‘This

as if making light of

butternut squash and spinach ravioli with strips of crispy pancetta and flakes of parmesan was placed before her. She didn’t know which dish she liked the look of more, hers or Christian’s cotoletta alla Milanese

He held up his fork, a good helping of breaded cutlet

it.’ Quickly she forked a delicate raviolo into her mouth, dropping her eyes away