“What’s wrong?” she asked, not liking the chill that entered her bloodstream.

“It’s foolish. I don’t even believe in the damned things, but I was angry about your staying in Nottingham and turned over a card. It was Death. Then I got the call about Dad, but—he’s pulling through and now I’m worried...” He searched her eyes.

“Oh, you silly man.” She hugged him with all her strength before she tilted her head back to scold. “Don’t touch my cards. We’ve talked about that. Also, the Death card doesn’t mean death, it means transformation. And it was mine. From my reading that morning. I knew neither of us could feel secure in our relationship until we fully trusted the other to be there. I knew I had to let you see my commitment, that I had to cut those old ties, but it was a big step, so I did a reading to help myself process it. If it makes you feel better, the card came up reversed for me, which means I was resisting a change and ought to embrace it.”

He only looked marginally satisfied. “What does it mean when it’s right side up?”

“It’s still a transformation card but indicates a more sudden change, the kind you can’t escape or undo. One door opens as another closes. You have to let go of old beliefs and attachments in order to adapt to the new conditions.”

“So it is about Dad.”

If that was what he needed to believe, she wasn’t going to persuade him differently.

He folded his arms around her more tightly and rested his jaw against her hair. “I was scared it meant you or the baby. I don’t think I could survive losing either of you, Fliss. I need you.”

She smiled against his shirt and roamed her hands under his jacket, against his back. “I need you, too.” And she’d been missing their lovemaking as he’d worked himself to exhaustion every day.

“No, I need you, Fliss. Yes, sometimes I’m so aroused I think I’ll come out of my skin if I don’t get inside you, but I need you. To say I love you doesn’t even cover it because I want to pull everything out of you and hold it inside me like air. Like it’s something that will keep me alive.”

“Did you just tell me you love me?” she asked in whispered wonder.

“Yes, but it’s not enough, Fliss. I don’t know how to make my love for you as big as yours is for me. To make you feel it and know it the way I feel your love for me.” His arms were so tight around her she could hardly breathe, but she reveled in being crushed by the weight of his love.

She sniffed back tears, clenching her eyes to stem the sting.

“Angel. Don’t cry. I’m doing this wrong—”

“No. You’re doing it right, Saint. You’re absolutely doing it right. Now kiss me and show me—”

He did, pressing his mouth to hers with rough hunger, as though he was starving for her. As though he would consume her.

It was the passion, the need that she had been yearning to feel. She moaned with joy, and he jerked his head back. “I’m being too—”

“Don’t stop,” she cried. “Love me.”

With a growling noise, he backed her toward the sofa. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and he dropped it to the floor, picking up the hem of her skirt so he was between her thighs as he pressed her to the cushions. He kept his mouth fused to hers the whole time.

“We should slow down,” he rasped against her neck, then opened his mouth to suck a small sting into her skin. Beneath her skirt, his wide hand roamed her bump before seeking the lace of her knickers. “Can you mend these if I...?”

“Do it.”

He snapped them, and she chuckled with joy and excitement and love. She loved when he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. And she adored when he murmured “I’ll be back” and slid off the sofa to kneel and press his mouth between her thighs, tantalizing her with one slow, wet lick before making her writhe in need.

She didn’t want a solo flight this time, though. Fliss needed the connection that felt so indelible it could last a lifetime. She scraped her hand into his hair and tugged. “I need you inside me.”

He rose enough to open his trousers and hitch them off his hips, then he dragged her thighs to the edge of the cushion and half sprawled over her as his hard flesh probed hers.

There was a small sting, then he was fully seated inside her. They both sighed and shared a dazzled look. And relaxed.

“I needed to be here,” he said, picking up her hand to kiss into her palm, then down the inside of her wrist.

“I needed you here,” she murmured, working to loosen his tie. She left it dangling as she opened the buttons of his shirt, then ran her hands across the exposed plane of his chest, the flat disks of his nipples and down to the tense muscles of his abdomen.

His hands were busy, too, shifting her skirt higher, then opening the buttons down the front of her dress to admire the bra she wore.

“This is new.”

“I made it for you.”

“Then I’ll be careful with it.” He played his fingertips across the satin cup, teasing her nipple into rising before he tickled his touch across the naked swell that overflowed the top.

“It opens here.” She released the catch between her breasts.

“Ah. You do love me.” He brushed the cup aside and bent his mouth in fresh worship.

She moaned and lifted her hips, signaling that she wanted him to start thrusting.

“Shh.” His hand clasped her hip. “Don’t make me come yet. I want it to be together.”

She wanted that, too. But it was ever so hard to let him fondle and caress and arouse her with long, lazy kisses while her flesh throbbed around the invasion of his, growing wetter and needier.

“Saint,” she gasped, sliding her hand down to where they were joined.

He rumbled another admonishment and caught her hand, pinning it to the armrest above her head. Then he shifted slightly and began to move, slow and tender and deliciously thorough.

“Tell me when,” he said against her lips. His whole body was shaking.

She licked into his mouth in a dirty tease, liking that he jolted and thrust harder.

“Like that, is it?”

“Yes...” She groaned. “I’m so close.” She pulled her hand free of his so she could cup his head and draw him into a blatant kiss.

He moved with more power, pushing her toward the edge, then falling with her over it, shuddering and muffling her moan of ecstasy with his own.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THEY ANNOUNCED THEIR engagement a few days later, and Fliss began nesting in earnest.

She was still working and would have a big launch next year, but for now she was spending her weeks still putting pieces into place and approving production samples.

Saint was even busier now that he was fully responsible for Grayscale as well as overseeing his project. Fliss hardly saw him unless they were checking in with his parents together or making an appearance. Sometimes when he came to bed, if she happened to wake, she would roll toward him and they would kiss and sleepily make love. It was always as deliciously satisfying as ever, but it was quieter. She was well into her third trimester, so he was being extra careful with her, which was sweet, and he always told her he loved her, but she still felt some little distance in him, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

One day, about six week before her due date, Willow asked her to come into the office “to review some paperwork.”

Fliss was baffled as to why Saint couldn’t bring it home, but she didn’t want to bother him with yet one more task, so she turned up at the appointed time.

Willow brought her to a boardroom where streamers and cake and gifts were waiting. They had conspired with a team of parents to throw her a baby shower.