"Oh, baby, please come back to me. I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. Just wake up. I miss you. I love you…"
I am on my feet but have ceased pacing.
Her hand had moved. I know it did. I can't be going crazy, not now when she is almost awake.
With a gentle inhale of breath, I walk toward her bed. She is lying there, not as pale as she was before, and not as sickly looking. She is still asleep, though; still fighting to wake. I grasp her hand in my own as I sit next to her and watch her breath in and out. Her chest rises and falls and I stare there momentarily before averting my gaze. I want her, but cannot have her right then. I remember that she is in the hospital and remind myself once more that she is unable to speak with me, hold me, or love me at this point in time.
"When you're finally awake you will never be tired again," I joked lightly, running my fingers over the top of her hand. "Imagine the things we could do with all of that 'awake' time."
My smirk is sudden; large, and I allow myself this moment of peace and promise. I will have her again, but how long must I wait for her?
My hand moves instinctively over her stomach and I sprawl my fingers over her protectively. Her body is mine, and this child is mine. I have never felt so possessive of anyone in my entire life and somehow, it feels good. It isn't odd for me to want such control, but to be protecting my wife and child…that is something new; something exhilarating. I continue to watch her as I hum the tune of my favorite piece to play on piano. How long has it been since I was home and played a melody for her to awake to? Perhaps if I was playing now, her eyes would open; she would realize my melancholy and return to me. But I know that it isn't in her power right now. It isn't up to her when she comes back to me, it is up to her body; up to God. I do not often pray, but Grace has encouraged me to many times. I should try it, but I am exhausted. Instead, I mumble once more how much I wish for her to awake. Whoever is listening can do with that request what they wish.
"I wonder what we will name you," I muse, looking at her stomach. She is still toned thus far; flat and lean. "I suppose we will need to know your gender first."
Her body is taunt and beautiful; milky white and precious to me. Soon, she will be heavier; round while carrying our baby. But I won't mind- not in the slightest- because she is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Besides, I have other places to look than her stomach; other areas to spend time exploring. I'm needy today; wanting. I miss her and the way she has made me feel for months now. She hasn't stopped being the salve that my heart needed; hasn't stopped being the beauty to my beast within. I owe her my life, and I will spend my life paying that debt.
"I won't leave your side," I mumbled, stroking her forehead and pushing her hair out of the way. "I'll stay here until you wake up. I promise."
I feel like a child once more- the neediest of children- and I am taken back to a time in my life that I had wished to never revisit. I stare down at her eyes that are closed and not staring back at me and I swallow thickly, moving my gaze from her and back to her stomach. When I focus on our child, the ache isn't as bad. Our child will have the world in their hands; they will be nurtured and given all they need and more. I will make it a point to give them everything that I never had; everything that Ana did. She has given me my childhood back. She makes me fun, playful, and blissfully ignorant of the world around me. My life has always revolved around repetitive acts, submissiveness, women, and being the CEO of my company. I have worked hard at a job and sculpting women the way I needed them.
But Ana…Ana never had to be sculpted; changed. She was perfect. She stood for what she believed in and she stood defiant against me.
And fuck, I loved her for it.
I wanted to give her the world. I had hoped that thus far, she realized that. She was a woman who deserved the world to be laid at her feet; there at her beck and call. I tried to give that to her every day, but for some reason, she acted as though all she wanted was me. Me, Christian…Not CEO Christian, or Playroom Christian. She wanted me and what made me happy; what satisfied me.
No one had been that selfless before. I had taught every other woman to be that way, but Ana…She had chosen it. She had chosen not to obey, but to be devoted and determined to making me happy. At her own personal cost? No…No, my Ana did not sacrifice herself…
But she worked hard to be a good wife; worked hard to remind me every moment that I am loved.
And for once in my life, it was working.
Gingerly, I bent down to kiss her forehead, and it was then that I heard it. I heard the soft moan that came from her throat. It met my ears instantly and I moved to stare down at her opened eyes. My face was close to hers; closer than it should have been for a patient first waking up, but I couldn't pull away. I placed my hand on the side of her face and fought back the sob that I had suppressed deep in my chest.
"Christian."
It was one word- one word from her lovely mouth- and I collapsed next to her, holding every inch of her that I could without harming her.