She shrugged, growing shy. “The test showed I’m pregnant. And the timeline puts conception at that night in the pool, or even a couple weeks earlier.” She raised my belt once again. “So you see, Q. You have no reason not to be yourself. Come back to me. I’m begging you.”

I reared back. “You expect that, just because you’re pregnant, I’m going to hurt you again? Fuck, I’m never going to touch you again. We’ll be celibate for nine months until you deliver safely, and even then I’ll treat you like the queen you are. Our past is done. We’ve been kidding ourselves by thinking that’s normal. It’s not normal. I’m not normal. I can’t keep letting that part of myself free when it’s so fucking wrong.” My voice threatened with a growl as both facets of myself waged war.

Tess bared her teeth. “If you do that. If you stop being the man and monster I married, then we won’t last. Being pregnant won't matter.”

Ice water replaced my blood. “What the fuck are you saying?”

“I’m saying be the man I want. Hurt me. It’s not a request. I need it just like you do. This is our normal. The rest isn’t. Don’t ruin us because of some stupid ideal to conform. If you do that, Q, we’ll lose each other and grow apart. Is that what you want? For our marriage to fail?”

Of course, I didn’t want that.

She needed to wash her mouth out with soap for ever suggesting such a thing.

My eyes fell on the hotel property, judging and dispelling each item in terms of punishment capabilities. I wanted a magazine to roll or a lamp cord to tie. Or even a hard covered book to spank my naughty, stubborn wife.

Anything would do.

I squeezed my eyes. But I promised I wouldn’t touch her in such a way.

She’s pregnant.

The knowledge trickled through me, growing in decibel with every heartbeat.

Pregnant.

Nothing was wrong with me. I’d achieved what I needed. And it’d happened the night I thought would be our last free time together.

What did that say about us?

That our bodies had reacted far more potently by giving into our baser desires or that it was merely an accident?

I hadn’t come here looking to talk. I’d come here to drag my esclave home where I could keep her safe. But Tess stood proud and defiant, her hands on her flat stomach. “Do you want that, Q?”

Her voice wrenched through my tumbling thoughts. “Do I want what?”

Her eyes glassed with tears. “Our marriage to fail?”

Shit, I hadn’t replied. My chest expanded with anger. “I can’t comprehend how you can ask such a horrid thing.”

“I ask because I honestly don’t know.” Clutching her stomach, she murmured, “Is having a child worth cutting us apart?”

My heart fucking froze. Was that what I’d been doing? Tearing us into pieces while trying to chase the one thing that wouldn’t matter at all if I couldn’t have Tess?

My breathing turned deep and thoughtful for the first time in weeks. I’d been living on adrenaline, forcing myself to touch her with barely any force, struggling to get it up when we slept together, finding more and more salvation in my work even though I couldn’t clear my head from weeks of self-denial.

She’s right.

Capturing her elbow, I whispered, “No. It’s not. I’d rather have you over a thousand children. Over every wealth in the world.”

Her body breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.” Her eyes turned smoky with intent. “Now that you agree with me. Now that you know you got your way and I’m carrying your child…perhaps you can give in to me again. Come home to me, maître.”

My gut twisted with gratefulness. What a lucky bastard I was. My wife wanted me in all my complexities, and she’d given me what I’d dreamed of.

Did I want to hurt her like we did before?

Yes.

Did I want to bruise and mark?

Without a fucking doubt.

Did I want to lock her up for the next nine months away from the world and keep her safe?

More than anything.

I’d done my best at castrating the beast inside me, but I couldn’t do such a thing on my own. And Tess wasn’t willing to permit me. Tess wanted me, darkness and all. I had to stop fighting the inevitable and be myself again.

Tess’s relief trickled into me. The permission to relax and stop fighting what made us us siphoned away my guilt and shame.

She sucked in a breath, recognizing my switch. Biting her lip, she moved toward me and rested her palm on my chest. “Welcome back, husband. I’ve missed you.”

I stopped breathing as she linked her fingers with mine, guiding me toward the bed. Her naked body was flushed and scrubbed. Droplets from the shower sparkled in the pristine lights of the Ritz suite.

My eyes dropped to the red outline of my belt on her thigh. She’d done that herself, but I craved to be the one to mark her other leg. To create brilliant symmetry of ownership.

My cock leapt with fucking joy—knowing the self-imprisonment had finished. The rush. The thrill. Every step toward the bed shook me harder.

I struggled to breathe as Tess sank gracefully on the mattress. She never broke eye contact, clasping an emotional collar around my throat and forcing me to heel and obey. Her damp hair coiled around her throat, dancing around her collarbone like an intricate necklace.

She looked so young.

But glowed with something infinite.