Pregnant by the Billionaire Heir I Married Him to Survive,Now I’m His War

Stanley opened his eyes and turned to look at the familiar face beside him.

The woman hadn't removed her makeup yet. Her face was as flawless as a doll's, but compared to Chloe, whom he'd left behind at the hotel, she really fell short.

He was looking right at Kira's face, yet all he could think about was the smooth, bouncy feel of Chloe's skin—soft as jelly beneath his fingers.

Kira was perceptive. At the very least, she'd guessed right—he had been thinking about Chloe just now.

In the three months since marrying Chloe, he'd come to understand one thing clearly: he craved her body.

But because she was pregnant, the doctor had advised avoiding intimacy for the first trimester.

With various busybodies watching his every move, he'd had no choice but to follow that advice. Yet his desire for Chloe only grew stronger by the day.

In the two months since the wedding, they'd kissed every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

Her lips were soft, with a sweetness he couldn't quite describe. The curve of her chest, her waist—they fit his hands perfectly.

When his blood ran hot and his heart pounded to its limit, the rush was better than any extreme sport.

And there was something else—maybe it was the pregnancy—but she carried this subtle, distinctive sweetness. Holding her while he slept, he always slept well.

He used to stay up until the early hours, his schedule completely inverted. Lately, that had improved.

These past weeks, he'd grown used to having Chloe beside him at night. Now, lying in a bed saturated with Kira's scent, an inexplicable unease crept through him.

He turned his head again and stared at the ornate chandelier on the ceiling.

The light had been dimmed to a warm, intimate amber, casting the entire room in a hazy glow.

But his mind was full of Chloe.

His throat bobbed slightly. "Just thinking about human nature."

Kira paused. "Human nature?"

"What about it?"

He was thinking about how pathetic his own nature was.

For years, he'd wanted to give Kira a lifetime of stability and commitment. Yet in just a few short months, he'd become hopelessly fixated on Chloe—a woman he'd looked down on, whose only redeeming quality was her beauty.

Kira was too close. That artificial fragrance of hers made him uncomfortable now.

He grabbed his lighter and sat up on the bed. "Get some sleep. I'm going to play some games outside."

Kira frowned. As Stanley lit his cigarette, a smile crept onto her face. Her voice turned soft and coaxing. "Stanley, let's cuddle."

Stanley turned, looking at her with some surprise.

Kira sat down on the edge of the bed. The strap on her right shoulder slipped down, exposing the smooth curve of her shoulder.

A hint of seduction colored her expression.

Stanley's eyes darkened, his emotions impossible to read.

He took a drag from his cigarette and spoke in a teasing tone. "You wouldn't even let me hold your hand before. What's with the sudden need for cuddles tonight?"

"Before, I thought I valued your feelings for me more. I figured hand-holding, hugging, kissing—all of that could wait until after we were married. After all, once we tied the knot, we'd have a lifetime together. But now..."

She paused, looking up at him with pitiful eyes. "Legally, you're someone else's husband. I'm really scared of losing you forever."

"Do you remember when we were kids?" Kira turned her head, running her fingers over her own shoulder, her voice trembling slightly. "Everyone looked down on us. Bullied us. All we had was each other..."

Stanley's expression darkened, as if her words had stirred up old memories.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He stubbed out the freshly lit cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "Come here."

But Kira let out a soft laugh and pulled the blanket over herself.

Stanley froze, his brow furrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No cuddles for you."