Nora’s POV

I couldn't sleep. Not even a little bit. The bed was ridiculously comfortable, the room temperature was perfect, and yet...I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind an absolute mess.

Just days ago, I was in Jeremiah’s arms. I could still hear his heart beating beneath my ear as I lay on his chest, I could still feel his steady breathing fanning my hair, I could still smell the scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

A tear slipped down my face.

I wiped it away so fast it was like it never happened.

He didn’t deserve my tears.

Why the fuck was I losing sleep over a man who was probably sleeping soundly?

Maybe even in bed with his lover.

I thought they said there was no rest for the wicked. But there Jeremiah was, probably sleeping like a damn baby while I was losing my mind.

Anger burned through me so hot I sat up abruptly, my fingers clutching the sheets. I wanted to scream out in frustration, I wanted to pull my hair.

But all I did was sit there, breathing hard, my heart pounding in my chest.

This was useless.

I needed water.

Throwing off the blankets, I slipped out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. Henry’s house was massive, but I remembered the way.

The kitchen lights were low, and the place was very quiet. I grabbed a glass from the counter, filling it at the sink. But the moment I reached for it—

It slipped.

The crash echoed through the kitchen.

“Shit,” I hissed, freezing, praying I hadn’t woken anyone.

I bent down quickly to gather the shards, careful not to cut myself. But just as I grabbed the first piece, my foot slid on a puddle of water I hadn’t noticed.

I gasped, bracing myself for the hard, painful impact...

But I never hit the ground.

Instead, strong arms caught me.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react, my heart racing. Then I looked up.

Henry.

His grip was strong, holding me like I weighed nothing. His face was shadowed in the dim light, his hair slightly messy, and—

Oh.

Oh God.

He was shirtless.

My brain momentarily short-circuited.

"Are you okay?" His voice was laced with concern, his grip tightening as he carefully straightened me.

“I—” I blinked, forcing myself to focus. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just—uh—clumsy.”

Henry didn’t look convinced. His gaze roamed over me, sharply. “You’re not hurt?”

“Nope. All good.”

"And the baby?"

My stomach twisted. The baby. Right.

I placed a hand over my belly instinctively. "We're both fine. I promise."

Henry exhaled, relief flashing in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, then glanced at the shattered glass on the floor.

"I'm so sorry. I just wanted a glass of water," I quickly apologized.

"That's nothing to apologize for. Sit down, I’ll handle it."

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when I saw the way his muscles flexed as he crouched down to pick up the glass shards.

His body could be described in one word. Fucking perfect.

I didn’t care if that was two words, it was still accurate.

He had the perfect amount of muscle, a sculpted chest, and abs that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover. I could practically lick ice-cream off them.

I swallowed hard.

Damn hormones.

Henry picked up the glass shards, threw them away, and then grabbed a fresh glass, filling it with water before handing it to me.

"Here."

"Thank you," I said, trying very hard to keep my eyes on his face and not his perfect, very distracting body.

The glass of water helps, but my body still feels restless, like I’m carrying too much in my head to sleep.

Henry kept staring at me, his grey eyes scanning my face like he’s searching for something.

"Your sure that’s all you needed?" His voice is low, a little rough from sleep.

I hesitate. "I… might be a little hungry."

Henry smirks. "I had a feeling."

He turns and walks to the fridge, opening it and scanning the contents. I should look away, but I don’t. His back is all muscle and lean strength, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He doesn’t even seem aware of how effortlessly attractive he is.

Focus, Nora.

"You’re lucky I’m also a night eater," Henry said pulling out a slice of chocolate cake and placing it on the counter. "Will this do?"

I gasp dramatically. "You just happened to have chocolate cake sitting in your fridge?"

Henry shrugs, looking amused. "I have a sweet tooth."

He hands me a fork and I take a bite without hesitation. "You might be my favorite person right now."

I take another bite of cake, letting the rich chocolate melt on my tongue, and groan in pleasure.

Henry smirks, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed, "That good?"

"So good."

He chuckles, the sound low and deep, sending a shiver down my spine.

God. Why does he have to sound like that?

And why does he have to look like that?

Standing there, shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his entire body sculpted like something out of a sinful fantasy.

I should not be thinking this way.

But I can’t stop.

I take another bite, but it’s not the cake I want anymore. It’s him.

My gaze drifts, completely against my will, from his sharp jawline to his lips.

I bet they’re soft.

I bet they’d feel incredible on mine.

The thought is reckless, insane. But my body doesn’t care.

My mind screams at me to stop, but my body?

It wants to fuck him.

Before I can think, before I can stop myself, I moved.

I push away from the counter, stepping toward him, closing the space between us.

"Nora?" Henry’s voice is uncertain, his brows furrowing slightly as I invade his space.

I barely hear him.

All I see is his mouth.

And then—

I kiss him.

Henry stiffens for half a second, his body going rigid in shock. But then, just as quickly, the hesitation disappears.

He grabs me.

His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back as he devours my mouth. The kiss is rough, deep and possessive. I feel his body pressing against mine, hard. His other hand gripping my waist as if he can’t get me close enough.

A whimper escapes me, and that sound breaks something in him.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me.

I gasp as he sets me on the counter, his hands sliding over my thighs, spreading them so he can step between them.

I can feel him.

His hard erection.

it’s so dangerous how badly I want this, how badly I want him.

His fingers dig into my waist, and I arch into him, my body screaming for more, for everything.

I can’t think.

I don’t want to think.

But then...

Henry suddenly pulls back, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against mine.

His chest rises and falls heavily, his grip on me tightening like he’s forcing himself to stop.

I stare at him, my lips swollen, my heart pounding.

"What..." My voice is hoarse. "Why did you stop?"

Henry exhales sharply. His eyes are dark, burning with something intense, something that makes my stomach tighten.

"You’re pregnant, Nora," he mutters, almost like he's reminding himself.

The words were like a slap to the face and I wake up abruptly.

It was all a fucking dream.