no turning back

• thirty nine •

gladys

Tightness in my thighs and core woke me the next morning. I peeked one eye open at a time and waited for them to adjust to the dim morning light seeping in through the window. Tilting my head to the side, I was greeted by the sight of Elijah's sleeping face. His lips were parted just slightly as he inhaled and exhaled in slow, measured breaths.

My heart leaped at the visual of this snoozing god. He was gorgeous. I think he always would be, even with graying hair, wrinkles, and extra pounds. His features drew me in, enticing some primal side of me. The strong jut of his chin, the serrated edge of his jaw, the bow of his lips, and the lines between his full, dark brows.

If I was a lock, he was the key, and he never failed to open me right up. I had been so determined not to relent until we had negotiated the terms of Brant's employment, but, as usual, his charms bent my will until there was nothing left of me but a throbbing heart and puddle of cum. Gross.

I may have given in last night, but he had also surrendered and we would be talking about Brant today. We would also be getting some contraceptives. It was clear I couldn't control myself around him and neither of us was ready to raise a child. Someday, sure—but not now. Not while he was the mafia boss and had enemies. If I couldn't go out into public without a bodyguard, what kind of danger would that put an innocent baby in?

Then again, safety might never be a sure thing in this life with him. Elijah made it clear that the mafia was his lifeblood. He wasn't going to give it up for me or anyone else. If that were true, I feared I would never feel okay about having children. That might not have mattered to me before, but now it sent a small pang through my chest.

Even if I rarely acknowledged the desire to have kids, it was there. I remembered my childhood before it went to shit, and I loved my parents. They loved me. My mom would read books with me and help with homework. My dad would take me to the park, ride bicycles with me, and let me help him fix things around the house. They weren't perfect, but we were happy. I wanted that with my own kids. I wanted that with Elijah.

"Someone's up early," burbled a deep, sleep-laden voice.

I blinked in surprise and felt moisture at the corners of my eyes. Wetting my lips, I quickly wiped the tears away and turned to my husband with a soft smile. His onyx eyes drank me in, those perfect lips curling slightly.

"Good morning," I whispered, my voice still husky too. "How did you sleep?"

"Wonderful." His arm snaked around my waist before he dragged me closer, pulling me on top of him. "I always sleep best after fucking my pretty wife."

My eyes widened at his crass words and I rolled them. Pressing my palms against his hard pecs, I pushed myself up to keep my weight from squishing him.

"And how did you sleep?" he asked, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. That simple gesture robbed my lungs of air and sent a rush of lust through my body.

"Very good. No dreams, even."

"Mmm." He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles while eyeing my lips. When his gaze raised to mine, his brows sank together. "Your eyes are wet."

I blinked rapidly and rubbed at them. "Oh—must be some crust in there irritating them."

His concern didn't waver at my excuse, and my heart lurched into my throat. I didn't feel like laying my worries bare to him right now. Not when we were even planning to have kids and not when bringing up his problematic career would only upset him. We had negotiations to make this morning.