Page 196 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“He won’t.” Syx’s jaw tightened. “And even if he does, I don’t give a fuck. You’re not his, Yaya. You never were.”

“I’m still his wife.”

“On paper.” He kissed me softly, gently. “But not in any way that matters.”

He pulled back and returned to the stove. I sat there, trying to process what was happening.

This wasn’t just sex.

This wasn’t just two people seeking comfort in the wreckage.

This was something real.

Something that could destroy us both.

The water boiled, and Syx added the noodles, stirring them with practiced ease. The kitchen filled with the smell of cooking food—savory, warm, and grounding.

He plated two bowls and set one in front of me, handing me a fork.

“Eat,” he said.

I took a bite, and the flavors exploded on my tongue—salty, rich, perfectly seasoned.

“This is good,” I said, surprised.

“Told you.” He sat beside me, our knees touching. “My mama taught me to cook before she died. Said a man who can’t feed himself is useless.”

“She was right.”

We ate in comfortable silence, the tension between us simmering but not overwhelming.

When I finished, he took my bowl and set it in the sink, then turned back to me.

“You want another round?” His voice was low, rough with desire.

My pulse quickened. “Yes.”

“Then come here.”

I stood and crossed to him, and he lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my legs.

“We’re doing this,” he said, his hands sliding up my thighs. “You and me. No more pretending.”

“What are we doing, exactly?”

“Whatever the fuck we want.” His mouth found my throat, kissing the bruises Amai had left. “Starting now.”

He kissed me—deep and claiming—and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Upstairs,” I breathed against his mouth.

He lifted me easily, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me through the house and up the stairs.

Back to his room.

Back to the bed where we’d first crossed this line.

And as he laid me down and stripped away my clothes, I knew the truth.