Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Grace: I love you. Please consider visiting. I would love to see you.
My last message goes unread, and my heart breaks a little.
“What’s wrong?” Dominik growls, making my head snap up.
I let out a sigh and set my phone down. “I just chatted with Ciara.”
“And?” he asks as he moves closer, his eyes searching my face.
“It just feels like we’re drifting apart.” I shake my head. “I’m always the one who has to reach out to her.”
He takes hold of my arm and pulls me into a hug. Pressing a kiss to my hair, he says, “It happens, moja láska. People get busy with their own lives, and when you look again, months or years have passed.”
I’m probably overreacting. Ciara’s a big girl. She deserves to have her own life filled with happiness.
“You’re right,” I mutter, then I glance up at Dominik. “Hold me tighter. I need love.”
His body folds around mine, and he presses a couple of kisses to my hair. “I love you. You’re the most important person to me.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “And?”
“If I lost you, I’d probably become a serial killer.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re already one,” I chuckle. “You’ve definitely killed more than two people.”
“That was before you came along. I haven’t taken any assassination jobs since we got married.”
“That’s right.” I tilt my head backward to look up at him. “I’m a good influence on you.”
“You are,” he murmurs before giving me a kiss on the mouth. “Something smells good.”
“Dinner.” I pull away from him, and walking to the oven, I pull it open and quickly peek inside.
“Next time wait for the steam to leave the oven before moving so close. I don’t want you to burn yourself,” he says in a tone that makes it sound like an order.
“Okay.”
When I reach for the oven mitts, he swipes them off the counter and says, “I’ll take it out. You get our plates ready and grab water for us.”
“My protective hermit,” I chuckle.
While Dominik cuts the chicken, I carry our utensils and water out to the veranda and set it on the table.
When I head back inside, Dominik calls out, “Do you want both wings, Grace?”
I walk into the kitchen and scowl at him. “Why are you calling me Grace?”
He gives a confused look. “That’s your name.”
“No. You call me all kinds of sweet things in Slovak. I’m only Grace when I’m in trouble.”
He lets out a burst of laughter, shaking his head at me. “Would you like both wings, moja láska?”
“Yes, please.”
“Never thought I’d get chastised for using your name,” he mumbles under his breath.
I raise my eyebrow at him. “What’s that?”
“Nothing. Just saying the chicken looks good.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I walk closer and smack his ass playfully. “Thank you for dishing up for us.”
He leans down a little. “Pay the fee.”
I press a kiss to his cheek, then grab my plate of food and leave the kitchen.
“We need to head out for supplies soon,” Dominik mentions as we take our seats at the table. “With winter around the corner, we need to prepare.”
“Just say when, and I’ll be ready,” I reply before popping a bite of cauliflower into my mouth.
Chapter 28
GRACE
Dominik takes a seat, and Miro, the tattoo artist, quickly cleans the area on his neck.
“Go for it,” Miro says.
I take hold of Dominik’s shoulders, and my man grins ear-to-ear as I lean into him and bite the spot on his neck.
“Harder,” he murmurs, his voice deep and rough, making my abdomen tighten.
I apply more pressure and hold still for five seconds before pulling away.
Miro quickly cleans the area again, and while he traces the indents my teeth left in Dominik’s skin, I say, “I’m just going to run to the pharmacy. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“Wait until I’m done, miláčik. I don’t want you leaving my sight.”
Knowing it’s no use arguing, I glance at the pictures Miro has on his wall. “What do you think about me getting a tattoo?”
“If that’s what you want, go for it,” Dominik replies.
I hear a buzzing sound and glance over my shoulder. Moving closer, I watch as Miro works on Dominik’s neck, then ask, “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all,” my husband mutters.
Of course not. Nothing hurts him. I’d probably pee my pants.
I take a seat on the bench, and placing my hand on my stomach, I glance down.
The past week, my breasts have been tender, and I’ve been feeling nauseous. My period isn’t due for another week, but I’m too excited to wait.
My gut tells me I’m pregnant, and I want to be sure.
“Do you have a stomach ache?” Dominik suddenly asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”
He stares at me, and after a few seconds, his eyes narrow. “Something’s up.”
Not wanting to have the discussion in front of a tattoo artist I met less than an hour ago, I say, “Nothing’s up. I promise I’m fine.”