Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Richard
The smell of disinfectant invaded every corner. I sat by the hospital bed, knuckles white with tension, my mind a storm of irritation.
When Natalie collapsed in front of me, it was the first time in my life I'd felt real panic and fear.
I'd never been this scared before.
I scooped her up and rushed into the hospital, clearing out the entire VIP floor for doctors. I stared at the jumping lines on the monitors, each blip yanking at my nerves—this out-of-control feeling sucked, but I was powerless against Natalie.
That's when David called.
"Sir, we've got it. The ones stirring up the chaos at the event were three professional hate-mongers, hired by some indie singer named Liam Cole.
He tried snagging a spot on the same stage as Nightingale last year but bombed.
The online smears mostly came from two tabloids, backed by Stellaris Records.
They're pushing a newbie whose style overlaps with Nightingale's, sees her as a threat. "
"By tomorrow, every one of them leaves the U.S. penniless," I growled through gritted teeth.
People I'd never even heard of daring to mess with Natalie—I didn't need to lift a finger myself to crush them. A little cash to some thugs, and they'd all be gone.
"Yes, sir."
I hung up and looked down at the bed.
Natalie's breathing had steadied, but her brow stayed furrowed, like she fought something even in her sleep.
I stood, moved to her side. My fingers hovered near her forehead, then tucked the slipped blanket edge instead.
I couldn't figure why she'd rejected my terms that day.
As Mrs. Winston, she'd get her own record label, dodge all this crap today.
I had the money, the power, the pull to give her the world. Why the hell wouldn't she want it?
Natalie woke hours later.
Her lashes fluttered, eyes opening slowly.
Those blue eyes fogged with sleep, dazed as they met mine. "Richard? Where am I?"
She tried sitting up, body going limp. I caught her back, steadying her. The second my fingers hit her smooth skin, that familiar heat shot through me, tightening my gut.
"You're in the hospital. You and the baby are fine. Nurse said it's stress-induced contractions from pregnancy. Just observation for a few days." I spoke while guiding warm water to her lips.
She instinctively turned away, but drank from my hand anyway, the move unconsciously submissive. That tiny reliance pleased me.
We were alone in the private room. City lights outside dotted the cold night. Natalie leaned against the headboard, unusually quiet, fingers tracing aimless patterns on the flat blanket.
"What're you thinking?" I broke the silence.
"Thinking... everything feels unreal." She stared down, voice soft. "Like a nightmare."
"The nightmare's over." I stood, loomed over her bed, shadow falling. "But you need to relax. Tension's bad for you and the baby." My hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin.
She stiffened for a beat, blue eyes lifting to mine, emotions swirling. She said nothing, didn't push me away.
I hadn't seen her this vulnerable in ages. I got hard. Every inch of me screamed to take her right there. But not now—she was a patient, and I wasn't that much of a beast.
Still, with her looking at me like that, I had to do something, or my pants would burst.
So I leaned in and kissed her hard. Natalie's lips were soft, carrying her faint sweet scent. I knew this taste, her quickening breaths, how her body softened and heated under my hands.
I knew Natalie inside out—every sensitive spot, every reaction. Soon she melted in my arms, small hands clutching my shirt, letting out those tiny, tempting gasps. Her surrender lay bare before me.
I released her lips, kissed her flushed ear tip, voice low and rough. "Your body's more honest than you."
"You still love me." I stared her down, tone leaving no room for argument. "Natalie, you know it better than anyone."
She turned her face, long lashes dropping, hiding everything. Silent.
I didn't care about her silence.
Her resistance, her stubborn mouth—it all looked like playing hard to get to me.
I had patience. And the means to wait until she came back willingly.
The day Natalie got discharged, rare rain fell on Las Vegas.
I drove her back to the apartment.
Not long after we got in, she took a call from Emma. When she hung up, her look at me was off.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Emma said you cleared out those haters, handled the people behind it, pulled every photo and topic off the net." Natalie watched me, emotions in her eyes so faint they barely showed. "Thanks, but..."
"But?"
Her fingers tightened at her sides, gripping hard, like she fought for calm distance. "But it wasn't necessary, Richard. Every singer deals with haters. I can handle it, or at least my company..."
"What can you handle?" I cut her off. Sometimes she seemed like a kid, and usually I liked that, but not now. "Natalie, admit it—without being Mrs. Winston, you're just putting yourself and the baby at risk. Only I can root out the problems, make sure they don't come back."
I stood, closed in, hands bracing her chair arms, trapping her between me and the table.
She tilted her head up, blue eyes flashing stubborn, cheeks pink. "What're you doing?"
I leaned down, breath ghosting her sensitive ear. "You said thanks. Honestly, I prefer something more... substantial."
I scooped her up in one fluid motion, my mouth crashing back onto hers as I carried her toward the bedroom.
Natalie gasped into the kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck instinctively, fingers tangling in my hair.
The rain pattered against the windows, a distant rhythm that matched the pounding in my chest. Her body pressed against mine, warm and yielding, every step heightening the tension between us.
By the time we reached the bedroom door, our kisses had turned frantic—tongues battling, teeth nipping.
I kicked the door shut behind us, not breaking contact, and lowered her onto the bed.
She looked up at me, eyes dark with need, lips swollen from my assault.
"Richard..." she breathed, but I silenced her with another deep kiss, my hands roaming her curves.
I pulled back just enough to strip her clothes off, efficient and hungry.
Her shirt went first, tossed aside, revealing the lacy bra that did nothing to hide her hardened nipples.
I unclasped it with a flick, exposing her breasts, full and inviting.
My mouth watered at the sight. Then her pants— I tugged them down her legs, taking the panties with them, leaving her bare and beautiful on the sheets.
Natalie shivered under my gaze, not from cold, but from the heat building between us.
I knelt between her thighs, eyes locked on her slightly rounded belly, a reminder of the life inside her.
Leaning down, I pressed my lips to her small abdomen, soft and reverent at first. The skin there was warm, smooth, and I trailed kisses across it, feeling her muscles twitch beneath me.
"Oh God, Richard..." she moaned, her voice hitching in a way that told me this was hitting her hard. Something about kissing her there amplified everything. Her hips bucked slightly, seeking more.
I noticed—how could I not? Her breaths came faster, her body arching into my touch.
Grinning against her skin, I kept kissing her belly, my tongue darting out to taste her, while one hand slid between her legs.
My fingers found her slick folds, already wet and ready.
I teased her entrance, circling her clit with my thumb, slow and deliberate, building the pressure.
She writhed, hands fisting the sheets. "Fuck, that feels.
.. so good." Her moans grew louder, body trembling as I worked her with expert precision, my mouth never leaving her abdomen.
The combination drove her wild—kisses on her belly making her hypersensitive, my fingers plunging in and out, curling to hit that spot inside her.
Natalie bucked harder, gasping. "Richard, please... I need you inside me. Now."
I chuckled low, still kissing her soft skin, fingers not stopping their rhythm. "You're just out of the hospital, baby. You sure you can handle me tossing you around?"
She met my eyes, bold and desperate, cheeks flushed. "Then use your mouth on me. Make me come that way first."
Damn, that directness turned me on even more.
I didn't hesitate. Shifting down, I spread her thighs wider, burying my face between them.
My tongue flicked out, tasting her sweetness, lapping at her clit with firm strokes.
She cried out, hips grinding against my mouth as I sucked and licked, devouring her.
One hand gripped her thigh, the other slipped back to her belly, rubbing gentle circles there to heighten the sensation.
Natalie was a mess of moans, her body quivering, building toward the edge. I added fingers again, thrusting deep while my tongue worked her relentlessly. "Come for me," I murmured against her, the vibration sending her over.
She shattered, crying my name, waves of pleasure crashing through her. I didn't let up until she was spent, limp and panting.
Only then did I strip off my own clothes, cock hard and aching.
I positioned myself over her, guiding into her slowly, gently.
She was so wet, so ready, enveloping me perfectly.
I moved with care, thrusts deep but tender, savoring every inch.
Our eyes locked, her hands on my back, nails digging in just enough.
"Richard... yes," she whispered, meeting my rhythm.
I kept it gentle, building us both up slowly, kissing her lips, her neck, her belly again between thrusts.
The connection was intense, raw, her walls clenching around me.
When she hit her peak, arching and gasping, I followed right after, spilling into her with a groan, our releases syncing in perfect harmony.
We rode the waves together, bodies entwined, hearts pounding.