𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜

"I don't want to go to work," I groan as I stretch myself awake. Well, technically that stupid husband of mine woke me up because I'm "too late".

"You've been staying home for the past month, Sierra," he reminds me, pulling the blanket away from my body. Is it reasonable to kill my husband simply for being there right now?

Not that I don't want Atlas around. He's good to me, too good sometimes. He really tries his best to be everything one would want in a husband.

That doesn't mean I appreciate him disrupting my beautiful sleep. The one I barely ever get anymore. Lying in bed is uncomfortable. But so is lying anywhere else.

"What time is it?" I ask, opening one eye only.

"Eight thirty in the morning. I'm more than late for work," he tells me, looking at me as though he's about to lose his patience.

"You could've left, you know."

Atlas shakes his head, grasping my wrists as he sits me up. One of his hands comes up to my chin, lifting my head to his. He presses his lips to mine in a sweet and gentle good morning kiss, one he's giving me every morning since we've gotten married.

"I'm not leaving without my wife," he says against my lips, right before he kisses me again. "Get dressed." Atlas pulls me to my feet, lifting me up like I still weigh nothing at all.

"I don't think anything fits me anymore," I let him know, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "I might have to go shopping instead of going to work."

I've gotten lazy, so sue me. My body is changing. Everything feels sore and I barely manage to get a good sleep. Well, I do eventually...but not when Atlas keeps waking me up at 8:30 in the morning.

"I'll take you on a shopping spree on the weekend then. But, sweetheart, I know you still got some clothes that fit you very well. It's a nice try though."

I roll my eyes. "I recently bought them," I admit. "Oh, that reminds me...I still have your credit card. I might never give it back though."

Atlas shrugs like he doesn't even mind it at all. "Spend as much as you please." He picks me up from the floor, my legs wrapping around his hips instantly.

"You won't mind when I completely empty out your bank account?" I ask as he carries me downstairs, here and there connecting his lips with mine.

"You can try," he says, sitting me down on one of the barstools in the kitchen. "I doubt it's possible to spend it all. But if you do manage to do that, let me know. I'll throw a whole party for you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Using who's money?"

"Yours," he answers, making his way over to the fridge. "Sierra, I make like a hundred thousand dollars every half hour. That doesn't include what goes into the company's account. You spending some money really won't hurt me."

A hundred thousand—Okay. Mr. Billionaire.

"It will hurt me," I mutter under my breath. Or my ego.

"You good with scrambled eggs and toast?" Atlas asks, looking at me briefly before turning his attention to the stove. "And a donut, of course."

Ah yeah. The donuts. I'm still craving them. But other cravings made an appearance as well. Recently I can't get enough of pretzels with vanilla ice cream. Talk about having a sweet tooth.

I think the weirdest, and worst craving of mine is strawberries with mayo...and it usually hits right after midnight. I will wake up because I want to eat it so badly.

"Depends on what we're having for lunch and dinner." It really does. As it turns out, when I don't get three warm meals a day, I will start to cry and feel as though I'm about to die.

"Whatever you want to have, sweetheart." So like every day. And as usual, I'll eat it by myself because Sir Fancy only ever eats vegetables and Greek yogurt.

The only time I saw him eat anything but vegetables was on the day we got married. He actually did order some food for himself. Said he'd need to know what's good so he won't feed his daughter some crap. "McDonalds burgers will not be on her menu."

If he continues to live off of salat, her first words will be "gross" and "ew".

"Can we go out for lunch? Subway is just around the corner of the office."

"That's not a warm meal," he reminds me.

"But you don't eat anything else, Atlas. You're already forcing me to go to work, so my husband might as well spend his lunch break with me and go out to get food."

"I don't usually take a break," he says and starts to cook my breakfast. "And I'm not saying I don't want to go grab lunch with you, Sierra. I'm saying you will have an outburst of anger right before bed if you don't eat three cooked meals."

I hate him. I really fucking do.

Sometimes at least.

"Leave me alone." I turn away from him, no longer in the mood to talk. I'm not only hating him right now, I hate myself as well. These pregnancy hormones are killing me. One second I'm as happy as I could ever be, the next I'm mad or sad for nothing at all. It's tiring. Even worse than being on my period.

Atlas does as I say. He leaves me alone, completely ignores me. He does it every single time I say these words. Honestly, that pisses me off even more. How dare he leave me alone when I tell him to? He should know I don't want it even though I want it.

Like, how is that not obvious?

Yet, even though I'm mad at him for ignoring me, I find myself jumping off the barstool and wobbling right over to him. Atlas is still cooking, but he doesn't say anything when I wrap my arms around his body from behind and lean the side of my head against his muscular back.

We've gotten so much closer in the past month, so close, I sometimes forget we're not exactly a couple. Yeah, we're married and we kiss, but we have no plans.

We haven't been talking about a future. We don't discuss what all this kissing stuff means. I might have asked him to try and fall in love with me, but I can't look inside his head and he sure as hell doesn't let me in enough to figure out if that's what's happening.

Truthfully, I'm afraid to fall first. That is, if I haven't already. It scares me to love someone. Anyone could hurt you when they're close enough. Even strangers can hurt your feelings. And I refuse to have my heart broken by Atlas.

After all, Nico is his brother. What if all this is just a stupid trap to break me even more? So before I am one hundred per cent certain that Atlas isn't playing with me, I will not allow myself to love him.

I can hear him putting the pan aside, right before the stove turns off and he turns around, lifting me off the ground in a heartbeat. Atlas turns us both around, sitting me down on the counter next to the stove.

He grabs a fork, stabbing it into the scrambled eggs in the pan and leads it to my mouth. I blow on it before eating the piece of egg he provided for me.

"Oh God," I say, humming in satisfaction. He's a really great cook. Never thought he would be, but Atlas sure is.

"Stop moaning like you're orgasming," he laughs, eating a forkful of eggs himself.

I frown at him, trying to mimic the one he has going on his face all day. "I wish I was having an orgasm. But you keep on failing me."

His eyebrows shoot up in shock, making me burst out in laughter.

"Sweetheart, that's impossible." And that it do be. He hasn't touched me intimately since that one night on the sofa. Way before we were married. You'd think having a husband would get you some sex. Well, no. This man refuses to get me off in any way possible.

"Mhm." I take another forkful of the eggs, moaning again. I know I'm affecting him when he hears me moan in any way. Sometimes, even just a slight touch gets him hard. And since he is being a stupid husband when it comes to sex, I like teasing him a bit.

"Sierra," he warns, getting more nervous with every little whimper that leaves my mouth.

So I do it again. But this time, I tilt my head back into my neck, rolling my eyes as I let out the most porn-like moan I could come up with. While eating scrambled eggs....

He groans and I can see as he reaches his hand down, having to adjust his pants.

As our eyes meet, I'm quick to find out his are filled with heat, frustrated lust. But Atlas being his awful self, he still won't admit to wanting me. He still won't give in and let us both seek the satisfaction we need.

He brings a hand up to my face, removes the strand of hair from it. "Sierra." His forehead leans against mine. I can smell his cologne, the one I start to not get enough of. "We can't," he speaks in a breath. "You don't love me yet."

I roll my eyes, but this time from annoyance. "You don't love me either," I say. "People have sex without being in love. We did before."

"I'm not going to have sex with you before you're in love with me." I suppose that's his last word. Atlas gently puts me down onto the floor, ready to walk away from this conversation.

I scoff at him. "So I have to be in love, but it's okay for you not to be. That's cool."

He ignores it. Atlas just plants a kiss to my forehead and walks away. "Go get dressed, Sierra," he speaks as he reaches the stairs and makes his way to the first floor.

I follow him upstairs, rushing after him without seeming to be in a rush. I am not. He wants to leave for work, so he shall do so. I can stay home if I want. Like what is he going to do? Fire me? Okay, I will survive. I mean, I still have his credit card so...

I walk into my old bedroom as my clothes are still in there, even though I've been sleeping in Atlas's bed for a month now. That kind of reminds me, we should probably talk about making this room the nursery. It's the closest to our bedroom, therefore it only makes sense.

"Atlas!" I scream, simply because I know that'll make him come running. And it does.

A second later, Atlas storms (no pun intended) right into the room, checking if I'm missing some body parts.

"Do you think this room would make a great nursery?" I ask, holding back my laughter.

"For fuck's sake, Sierra." He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. "You need to stop this. I keep thinking something bad happened."

"I'd say we paint it white and keep the room neutral," I say, ignoring his comment. Yes, I can pull an Atlas if I want to. Though, I'm flattered that he cares about me that much.

"No pink? At all? You want everything to be neutral colours?"

I nod. "I don't want to push a colour on her. She might end up hating it."

Atlas chuckles a little, pulling me into his body. My back presses to his front, his arms coming up around my neck. We both stare into the room, looking around.

As of now, it's still a guests room, but ignoring the king sized bed in here and the other adult-y furniture, I start to imagine what this room would look like as a nursery.

"Maybe we could keep it bee-themed," I suggest.

"Bee-themed? As in bees?"

"No, as in wasps." I roll my eyes. "Yes, Atlas, bees."

"Why?"

I look up at him, even though he's kind of upside down to me now. "Could be cute. A few decorations with bees on it while still keeping everything in neutral colours."

"If that's what's you want." He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. "I was for everything pink but sure."