attitude, his problem. She had her own to deal with. “Yes. But only after I had a chance to absorb it and figure out what I’m going to do.”
“You sound like you have a choice.” Two quick, masculine strides ate the distance between them. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip flexing with indecision on whether to shake her or not. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Lara snapped back. “Adoption maybe. Considering our lifestyles.”
“Let me tell you something,” he snarled. “I don’t like this pregnancy any better than you do. But never once did I consider walking away.” He brought her closer until only millimeters separated them. “And by God, neither will you.”
“What I do is my decision. I’ve had a little over twenty-four hours to deal with this. And it’s not like this baby was conceived in love.” She paused, absorbing the ache that slipped through her. “It was in anger, Ian.”
“Your anger, not mine.”
“Either way, this baby should’ve never happened.” Fear filled her—not the natural adrenaline rush that came with risk, but the instinct for survival. It was sheer terror that rose from her toes, poured out her skin in a cold, clammy sweat.
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