Chapter 273

Stella's POV

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. Despite knowing it was at least partly an act, my chest tightened anyway.

"Of course not," I answered more gently, "I just think the CEO of Lancaster Corporation should act like a responsible adult, you know, running his company."

"I am being responsible," he countered, reaching for my hand. His thumb traced circles on my palm, sending electric tingles up my arm. "I'm making sure my wife isn't being harassed by overeager students."

His other hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he leaned closer. "And I miss you during the day."

Before I completely forgot where we were, I reluctantly created some distance. "That's not the real reason you're here, and we both know it. You're avoiding the Lancaster Group offices because you don't want to deal with Thomas."

His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes hardened slightly. Bull's-eye.

"I'm going to England tomorrow," he said abruptly.

The sudden change of topic left me momentarily speechless. "What? So suddenly? Is it for work?"

"Isn't that what you've been pushing for?" he replied, his tone light but pointed. "For me to get back to work, earning baby formula money for our child?"

I nearly choked on air. "What child? I'm not pregnant!"

Adam's smile turned predatory as he stood and circled around to my side of the desk. I instinctively pushed my chair back, but he caught the chair, trapping me between his arms as he leaned down.

"We could work on making that happen," he whispered in my ear.

The warmth of his breath sent a current straight down my spine. His scent enveloped me—clean, masculine, with that trace of something uniquely him that always made my heart race.

"Adam," I breathed, my voice embarrassingly affected.

His lips brushed against the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I had to suppress a gasp. "Say it again," he murmured against my skin.

"We're in my workplace," I hissed, though I couldn't help tilting my head slightly to give him better access. "Anyone could walk in."

"Let them see," he replied, his voice low and possessive as his hand slid up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Then everyone will know you're mine."

My traitorous body immediately responded to his words, heat pooling in my lower abdomen. It took considerable effort to place my hands on his chest and push him back slightly.

"Who says I want a child right now?" I managed, trying to regain some control over the situation.

He pulled back slightly, studying my face with rare seriousness. "Don't you want children?"

The question caught me off guard. We'd never explicitly discussed children. "I... haven't really thought about it," I admitted. "Do you?"

"I never thought I'd be a father," he said thoughtfully. "But with you... I want to see our child."

His words evoked a warm feeling in my chest. The idea of a little person with Adam's green eyes and my stubborn temperament suddenly seemed less abstract, more like a possibility I might actually want.

"You don't seem like the type to like children," I tried to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions inside.

"I don't," he confirmed, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His thumb traced the curve of my lower lip, the tender gesture making me hold my breath. "But I want ours."

The simple statement, delivered in such a matter-of-fact tone, made my heart pound in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar around Adam.

"You can't just say things like that," I whispered, my hands moving to grip his suit lapels, not pushing him away but holding onto him, as if to steady myself.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a dreamlike haze. After my last class finished, Adam insisted on driving us back to the apartment himself, rather than having Taylor pick us up. During the drive, his hand rested on my thigh.

"You're distracting me," I murmured, placing my hand over his to still it.

He glanced at me, his gaze dark with intent. "That's the point."

The moment our apartment door closed behind us, his hands were on my waist, pushing me against the wall as his lips captured mine in a kiss that made my knees weak. I melted against him, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if I couldn't get enough of him.

"Bedroom," I gasped when we finally broke apart for air, but Adam shook his head, his lips trailing down my neck.

"Too far," he growled against my skin, his hands already working on the buttons of my blouse. "Need you now."

The raw desire in his voice pooled as liquid heat between my legs. "Adam," I struggled to grasp a coherent thought, "are you serious... about wanting a child?"

His hands stilled, and he pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. For a moment, the mask of control slipped, and I caught a glimpse of something vulnerable in his gaze—something that made my heart clench.

"Every word," he said softly, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek with unexpected tenderness. "Everything I want to share with you is real."

When his lips claimed mine again, I surrendered completely, letting him lift me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom after all.

That night, when he entered me, his touch was different—a new intensity, a purpose beyond mere pleasure. His eyes never left mine, creating an intimacy deeper than our physical connection.

"Stella," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "I want to see you carrying my child."

The words sent a powerful current of desire through me, almost painful in its intensity. When he asked if we could forgo protection, I found myself nodding, my heart racing with fear and excitement at what we might be beginning.

"Yes," I breathed against his lips, "I want that too."

I awoke to sunlight streaming through the blinds we'd forgotten to close, momentarily confused by the angle of light. It seemed brighter, higher in the sky than when I usually woke up.

Bleary-eyed, I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand. The screen read 11:47 AM.

God, I've slept through half the day!

As I sat up, pulling the sheet to my chest, I noticed Adam's side of the bed was empty. On his pillow lay a folded note: "Good afternoon. Gone to the airport. See you in two days."

I traced the elegant handwriting with my fingertips, remembering how just hours ago, those same hands had traced paths across my skin, his voice calling my name like a prayer as we moved together in the darkness.

My body ached pleasantly, marked by Adam's passionate attention—small bruises blooming on my inner thighs, the slight soreness between my legs, the lingering feel of his lips on my breasts.

I closed my eyes, remembering the way he'd looked at me in the final moments, the raw emotion in his eyes when he'd buried himself deep inside me without barriers for the first time.

Did we really try to make a baby last night?

I fell back against the pillows, a complex mixture of emotions washing over me. Embarrassment at sleeping so late. Disappointment that Adam had left without waking me.

I pressed my hand to my lower abdomen, wondering if a miracle was happening inside me at that very moment. It was far too early for anything to have taken, of course, but just the possibility made my heart race with excitement and fear.

Get a grip, Stella. One time doesn't mean you'll have a baby tomorrow.

After a long shower, I settled at the kitchen counter with coffee and my laptop, determined to be productive despite my late start. The design studio had several messages about potential collaborations, and there was a particularly interesting consultation invitation for a historical textile restoration project.

As I browsed social media while finishing my coffee, a post from Ava Martin caught my attention. It was a photo of an upscale London restaurant, tagged with the location "London, England," captioned: "Happy Birthday, Grace! ��✨"

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Ava Martin was in London. Celebrating Grace Davis's birthday. And Adam had just flown to England.