“Anything for you, Puppy.”
“Marry me.”
I move my head back and stare at him. “Are you serious right now?”
“Very. Renate Silva. I want you to be my queen now and forever.”
“One condition?”
“Anything,” he echoes.
“Ask me again when you’re not rage fucking my brains out?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I cup his face and wipe the tear from his cheek as he smiles.
“Yes? Really?”
My phone vibrates, almost sending us both flailing off the bed. He digs it out from under my torn clothes and holds the screen to me.
“Mills. I need to answer?—”
He hits the button for the speakerphone and answers. “Mills, bro, shitty timing. Can you call back later? I’m in the middle of fucking my wife because you’re not.” He ends the call, tosses the phone over the edge of the bed, and dives back into my neck as he thrust into me again.
“Chase!”
“What? Not what you were asking for?” His brow furrows. “In my defense, it’s been a few months, and today has been pretty weird.”
“No. I mean yes. I just, I don’t think I wanted to tell Mills quite like that.”
“Oh, I’m going to shout it from the fucking roof. You’re my light, my everything, my family. I’ll tell the world as soon as you scream my name while I put a baby—” He stops, freezing mid sentence as his brain blue screens.
Neither of us moves. We’re barely even blinking as we stare at each other.
“Mr. Cooper? Were you about to reveal a bit of a breeding kink?” He cringes as he looks down at me, swearing under his breath. “Hey, Puppy? Remember our rule?”
“Never be embarrassed by a kink?”
“Good fucking boy.” I grab him by the throat and whisper, “Now knock your fucking wife up, you whore.”
* * *
The clock says it’s after three in the morning when I wake up. Chase has me cradled in his arms, his hand splayed over my belly. His confidence that he got the job done on the first go made me giggle, but I can’t help but hope right along with him. I need to pee, though, and the dim glow from the horror movie we had on when we fell asleep helps me maneuver the apartment in the dark.
When I’m done, Pongo and I head down to the kitchen, hoping I’ll fix him some food, too. Now that I’m a part time spy, my internal clock picks strange times to be wide awake or hungry. I’m starving, but, of course, his cupboards are bare. That would explain why he’s lost so much weight. Skinny fucker. I’ll have Mama help me fix that when we’re back.
I find a granola bar and nibble on that while I search for a cup. I laugh when I open the cabinet and the mug Chase got me for his house stares at me. There’s a whip and handcuffs hidden in the apple that reads ‘Teachers Do It Better,’ because of course Chase would find someone to make that. I doubt that will ever be true again—the teacher part.
I find my phone next to the couch and I’m surprised it didn’t shatter into a thousand pieces. I have one text from M.O.T.H.E.R.—an appropriate name for Mills. I almost ignore it, but my brain refuses to let me leave it until morning, no matter how badly I want to curl back into Chase’s warm arms. I click the thread.
M.O.T.H.E.R.
Leave now! She saw you! On my way.
I check the timestamp, it’s from fifteen minutes ago. I’ve been pretending everything can go back to normal, when it can’t. Not yet, anyhow.
I grab one of Chase’s shirts from his laundry basket downstairs and find a notepad and pen, leaving him a note so he doesn’t worry when he wakes up alone in a few hours. He’ll still worry, but not as much, I hope.
