Because with the new position, he could feel the swell of my stomach against his hard abs. He wouldn’t be rude about it. He was Ward, after all. But the unmistakable reminder I was pregnant would be enough to cut through his daze.

I braced, waiting for him to freeze. Pull away. Make some thoughtful excuse about why we should stop.

He didn’t.

He kissed me harder. His touch was fervent as he gripped the side of my neck in one hand while the other skimmed down, teasing the curve on my breast on his way to grip my hip. When I remained stiff, he tore his mouth away long enough to growl, “Get outta your head, Mac.”

His kiss and his words said enough, but he wasn’t done. Offering more of the reassurance I was desperate for, he lifted his hips. His hardness pushed against my core as he groaned into my mouth.

Like he couldn’t get enough.

Like he wanted more.

Needed it.

He released my hip and trailed his rough hand back up, moving under my pajama shirt. He cupped my bare breast, rolling my nipple with deft fingers. He gently tugged it. Skimmed around it.

Tormented me with teasing, barely-there caresses.

Even if I wanted to ignore his order and stay in my head with the doubts and insecurities—which I did not—I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me. He kissed and touched me until he was all I could focus on. I was consumed.

He skillfully worked my body until I burned hotter than the fire.

My hands slid down his shoulders. His chest. The ridges of his abs. I gripped the waistband of his jeans in a futile attempt to pull him tighter to me. My fingertips slipped inside, feeling his trimmed, coarse hair.

I wanted to feel more.

But when I tried to undo the button, his hands shot to my wrists and stopped me.

I pulled away from this kiss and tried to make my brain work enough to verbalize my confusion.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he said.

Of course he’s not.

What the hell was I thinking?

What in the actual fuck am I doing?

All the anxieties that had evaporated suddenly resurfaced, thicker and more painful than before.

Mortified, disappointed, and embarrassingly turned on, I tried to scurry off him while not throwing myself back into the fire.

His grip on my wrists was like unbreakable cuffs, his fingers digging in. “Not gonna fuck you tonight.”

Yeah, right, sure.

He used his hold to bring my hands down to his hard-on, pressing firmly as he exhaled sharply through clenched teeth. “Not taking you for the first time outside. Not doing it when I’ve been smoking.”