Page 76 of Cross Me

“I think it’s a boy.” It felt good to slip into the debate — a moment of normal as my world spun out of control.

“You didn’t find out?”

“And miss a chance to argue with you for a few more months?”

I handed him the pictures and he studied them with awe. His nostrils flared as he saw his child for the first time and he shook his head, turning briefly away from them and from me.

“I should have been here,” he said in a strangled voice.

I couldn’t tell him I was glad he hadn’t been. Maybe all of these mistakes had served a purpose. It had kept him from being here today. It had given him a few months of excitement. I didn’t know what the future held, but I could give him that.

“I will be here,” he vowed, “every step of the way.”

I brushed a palm down his cheek, wanting to erase his regret. “X, you are always with me.”

I rocked Elizabeth until she passed out in my arms, counting her fingers and thanking God she was healthy. It felt selfish to wish for another perfect baby, but I couldn’t help it. The doctor was right. I had resources that others could only dream of. In the end, I was simply a mother who would do anything for her child.

The door to the nursery cracked open and Alexander appeared. He lingered there, watching us. It was one of the only times he looked at peace: in those small moments when he was just a man and a father, not a king. After a few minutes, he crept over and lifted her from my arms. Her weight evaporated from my chest and a bittersweet sadness took its place as Alexander gently lowered her into her crib.

He held a hand out to me and guided me to my feet. We reached our bedroom and he stopped inside the door. Reaching up, he unpinned my hair and let it fall to my shoulders. Gathering it in his hands, he held me captive as he lowered his mouth to mine. His kiss was hungry but restrained. I couldn’t stand that he was holding back, but I knew it was an offering—an olive branch. I could push him away or stay in his arms.

“Let me run you a bath,” he murmured when he finally pulled away.

I shook my head. “I’m too tired. I’ll fall asleep and drown. Maybe a shower?”

I wanted to wash this day and its stress away—not soak in it. Tomorrow I’d do as Dr. Ball ordered and take a hot bath. Tonight I wanted to go to bed with my husband.

Alexander led me to the bathroom and slowly undressed me, his eyes drinking me in like it was the first time. He always looked at me like that, and when he began to take off his shirt, my heart faltered for a moment. I’d never been able to tell him what it meant for him to give his body to me. The perfect, carved abs that narrowed into an invitation, and the roped scars that twisted across his left torso and up over his heart—my heart. Every time I looked at him I believed in destiny a little more. He could have been taken from me on the night of the accident that had given him those scars. Fate played a hand and saved him for me.

He turned on the water and stepped under it. I joined him, enjoying the way the water snaked in rivulets over his muscles. Alexander turned his face up to it, and I wondered briefly if he was washing today away, too. After a second, he looked down, his mouth cocking up in a lusty grin that made my knees weak. He reached for the soap and began to lather it over my body, kneading my shoulders and then continuing to the rest of me, as though he could erase the time we’d spent apart. His hands slipped down to my breasts and he grinned as he took an extra long time there.

“I think they’re clean,” I teased him softly.

He shushed me and continued. “I’m very thorough.”

But it wasn’t until his hands slid lower, stopping on the swell of my stomach, that tears stung my eyes. His gaze met mine, blazing with unrestrained love, as he dropped to his knees. Alexander lowered his head and rested it there, his arms circling my waist. Water showered over us, mingling with my tears and washing away the evidence. His arms protected me—protected us—and I protected his heart. We were an endless circle—unbroken and unbreakable.

Alexander stayed there holding me, and when he finally pushed onto his feet, his eyes were wet. He didn’t hide from me. He’d stripped to his soul. Nothing could separate us. We were bared to one another: body to body and soul to soul. He took my face in his hands, his mouth angling to capture mine. The kiss started sweetly, but it deepened until his breath was my own. His heart beat in my chest. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as we whispered promises of forever in a language only we spoke.

His body backed me against the tile and we continued to press together. I was barely aware of our bodies fighting to close every last inch of space between us. There was only him and his taste on my lips. When we finally surrendered to one another, he lifted me from my feet and pushed inside me with agonizing tenderness, allowing me to envelop his cock completely before he began to move. His hips rolled slowly, winding me tighter with each stroke. I pressed my forehead to his, savoring the pressure building inside me.

“Always,” he ground out, brushing a kiss over my lips. “Always, Clara.”

His words stole my breath and I splintered apart, coming with his name on my lips. Alexander anchored me as I fell apart and rebuilt myself around him until he was my world. My always.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ALEXANDER

It was a press conference, and my bastard brother had shown up in a t-shirt and jeans, with devil-may-care hair and an attitude to match. Anders and I stayed on opposite sides of the room. I’d promised Clara I’d be on my best behaviour, but it was difficult to do while staring at the man who’d tried to steal my wife. Judging by his glare, he wasn’t any happier to be near me. The number of press allowed inside the White Drawing Room was limited by the room’s size. Each of them seemed more interested in Anders than in me, but I caught a few looking between us. That was my cue to excuse myself.

I wanted to slip away through the secret door hidden behind the mirror in the corner, but before I could, Clara caught me.

I allowed myself a moment of wonder. She was beautiful, her glossy hair cascading loosely over her shoulders, her pregnancy on full display in a fitted, cream dress. Without thinking, I lifted her hand to my lips, forgetting we had an audience. There was a murmur of approval throughout the room, followed by the sound of cameras.

“Trying to charm them, X?” she whispered as I placed a hand on her back and followed her to the front of the room. “Or trying to escape?”

“Which am I more likely to pull off?” I asked so only she could hear. I paused before we reached my uncle and Anders.