Page 64 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
They’d woken from a snooze half an hour ago—a staggering surprise in and of itself since he couldn’t recall the last time he’d fallen asleep in the afternoon—to find her beautiful eyes on him, a faintly perturbed look lurking within the brown depths. She’d smiled brightly and attempted to compose herself.
But it’d ruffled his own emotions enough to make him drag her out onto the water. To jump into another activity to overrule the rising clamour.
It’d worked. Up to a point. Now, raking his gaze over her supple body, lingering in all the places that delighted and aroused him, he knew he was shutting off the subject they were both ignoring.
‘Fine, I give up. You win.’
Words he was used to hearing. Only this time, victory felt hollow. And the ticking time bomb at the back of his head was growing louder.
He powered his ski closer until it bumped hers, then leaning over, he cupped her nape and brought her irresistible mouth to his. A long, belly-flipping kiss later, he watched more sombre shadows chase across her face.
She pre-empted his question with one of her own. ‘What was that for?’
‘Spoils of war?’
The spirited response he expected didn’t arrive, a resigned look skittering over her face. ‘Is everything a battle?’ Before he could answer, she waved him away. ‘Actually, don’t answer that. I’m heading back in.’
She left him with the roaring in his head and a bigger hollow in his stomach.
Both of which remained immovable when he tracked her to his bathroom. She’d finished peeling the wet bikini off her body, a fact his own body fully approved of then mourned when she covered up with a robe while ignoring him.
‘What’s going on? Are you ill?’
An edgy bark of laughter spilled free, snagging at something inside him. ‘Is that the only time I’m allowed to get away with disagreeing with you?’
‘Ah, so we’re in disagreement about something?’
Tiny embers of her usual fire stoked her glare, but her face remained carefully composed. ‘No, we’re not. At least nothing beyond the obvious.’
‘Willow.’ His warning tone heightened the charge between them and as much as he wanted to dial it back, a visceral urgency took hold of him. Enough to make him close the gap between them. And jolt to a halt as she stepped back.Away from him. Watch her hands shake as she secured the belt to the robe, then grimaced before consciously loosening it.
‘What’s wrong?’
For jarring seconds, she kept her mouth firmly pursed. Then she repeated that batting away thing she’d done on the water. ‘It’s probably nothing—’
‘It’s definitely something.’ The hollow in his belly filled with cold unease. ‘Tell me,’ he insisted after another pulse of silence.
‘It’s...my period...it’s late.’
She lost a layer of colour as the words tumbled free, a wave of dismay washing over her face.
He was abstractedly stunned that despite the shock barrelling through him, it washerreaction that stayed with him. That roared at him that she was perhaps horrified by the thought of being pregnant.
And then that shock grew because Jario discovered that he absolutely despised that reaction. That he wanted to shelve his own confounding emotions and drill down onhers.
Which was absurd because...he needed to explore his own feelings on the matter. Not dwell on whether she hated the thought of carrying his child...
He spiked his fingers through his hair, pulling a handful taut in vain hope that the sting would centre his thoughts enough to formulate words.
Enough to work out why the thundering of his heart wasn’t born of self-blame for not being careful enough with protection, but with what kind of father he’d be. Whether he had what it’d take to do right by his child.
If there was one.
The silent observation slammed even more confounding feelings into him. Because again, he wasn’t filled with the aversion he’d expected.
‘Are you going to say something?’ she murmured, her eyes dancing over his face before meeting his eyes. The way he’d wanted her to a minute ago. The way that felt far too incisive now, because surely he wasn’t skilled enough to conceal the shock waves pummelling him.
‘What did you mean byit’s probably nothing?’ He barely recognised the charred roughness of his voice. All he cared about was her answer to this suddenly important question.