Page 114 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“Let go,” I urged. “Let go and trust me. I got you. I swear to God, I got you.”

She shattered.

And I followed her over the edge, burying myself deep as I filled her, feeling her body pulse and grip and claim me right back. The sensation was overwhelming—not just physical, but something deeper. Something that felt like two souls recognizing each other, reaching for each other, and binding together in a way that couldn’t be undone.

I collapsed beside her, pulling her into my arms, both of us trembling and breathless.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

I held her against my chest, feeling her heartbeat gradually slow, feeling the way her body fit perfectly against mine. My hand traced lazy patterns on her back, and I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“You okay?” I asked finally, my voice hoarse.

She nodded against my chest. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

I tightened my arms around her.

I’d just tied our souls together, whether she realized it or not. And there was no going back from this.

Not for either of us.

Chapter 10

AMAI

Istood in the hallway outside the living room, phone in hand, cycling through every camera feed with the methodical precision of a man who understood that security wasn’t about paranoia—it was about preparation.

The lakehouse had sixteen cameras. I’d installed them myself three years ago when I bought the property. Not because I needed a safe house—I had several of those—but because I needed a place where I could disappear if everything went to hell. A place where I could see threats coming from every angle.

Now it was serving a different purpose.

I pulled up Camera 1: the front gate. The feed showed the long gravel driveway cutting through dense cypress and oak, Spanish moss hanging like curtains from the branches. The gate was closed, locked, the chain wrapped tight. Motion sensors active. Anyone who approached within fifty feet would trigger an alert on my phone.

Camera 2: the back patio where Truth and I had sat hours ago. Empty now. The chairs still positioned where we’d left them. The lake beyond stretched out dark and still, reflecting the early morning sky. No movement. No boats. No witnesses.

Camera 3: the east side of the property. Trees, underbrush, the narrow walking trail that led deeper into the woods. I’d walked that trail a hundred times. I knew every turn, every landmark, every place where someone could hide. The camera angle covered the first thirty yards. Clear.

Camera 4: the west side. More trees, thicker coverage, the property line marked by a rusted fence that hadn’t been maintained in decades. The camera caught the fence and the clearing beyond. Nothing moved except the wind through the leaves.

I cycled through Cameras 5 through 12—perimeter coverage, overlapping fields of vision, blind spots eliminated through careful placement and angle adjustment. Every feed showed exactly what I expected: stillness, isolation, security.

Camera 13: the living room.

I paused on that one.

Truth was still asleep on the bear rug, her body curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek. The fireplace had burned down to embers, the light softer now, less dramatic. She looked small in that space. Vulnerable. The robe had slipped open slightly, exposing the curve of her hip, the swell of her belly.

I watched her breathe. In and out. Steady. Peaceful.

She had no idea what I was about to do. No idea that the man who’d just made love to her—who’d whispered promises and bound their souls together—was about to walk out that door and become something else entirely.

Something she couldn’t see.

Something she didn’t need to see.

I moved to Camera 14: the kitchen. Empty. The counters clean, the refrigerator stocked with the healthy shit Priest had brought. Bottled water, fresh fruit, organic vegetables. I’d need to pick up the snacks I’d promised her. Something to make the lie believable when I came back.

Camera 15: the master bedroom upstairs. Unused. The bed still made, the curtains drawn. I’d planned to take her there eventually, but the fireplace had been closer, more immediate. The rug had been softer than I expected. Her skin had been softer than I imagined.