She wanted to be a good mother. She loved her child. She had rejected that schmuck’s offer for money and was doing this on her own. She had risked the wrath of Demon Sharpton to secure her child’s future.

It told him everything he needed to know about her.

“Spend the night with me, Mandy. Just while we’re here, in Punta Cana, and nothing else matters. Let’s enjoy each other. Let’s appreciate life.”

There was a long pause where she seemed to be weighing his words, and while he waited to feel the agony of rejection, the letdown of being told to go to hell, he buried his head in her neck and ran his lips over the soft flesh.

“I’ll spend the night with you, Damien,” she said quietly.

Relief sang through him. Taking his tongue over the shells of the necklace she was wearing, he held her for a second. Just held her.

“That is, if you don’t think it’s unseemly for a mother-to-be to act this way.” Her words were teasing, but there was a level of seriousness to the question, too.

Damien stood up and shook his head. “Not at all. I think it’s damn sexy. I can show you my erection if you need proof.”

She laughed as he bent over and picked up her beach bag. “Let’s wait until we’re in the room for that, shall we?”

“But first we have to stop by the hotel store. Unless you have condoms in your room.” He didn’t want her to worry that he wouldn’t use one since she was pregnant. He had no intention of making her uncomfortable.

She covered her face with her hand. “No, I don’t. God, I think I’m blushing. This is just so unbelievable.”

“But in such a good way.” Damien put his hand on the small of Mandy’s back and herded her in the direction of the hotel shop.

Good thing it was a short walk, because now that he had been given the green light by Mandy, he was more than a little eager. He was on fucking fire.

Mandy hung back in the store, hovering over by the imported magazines displayed both in English and Spanish, her cheeks a charming pink. Damien didn’t feel any embarrassment whatsoever. He strode over to the counter and asked the clerk, “Where are the condoms?”

Why waste even five minutes looking for them?

The man, in his late twenties, grinned at Damien and pointed behind him. “Individual or a box?”

“Box.” No sense in having to repeat this shopping expedition if things went according to plan.