Page 16 of False Heir

Heavy breaths filled the silence as we both came down from our highs. The glow from the bedside lamp washed over us, casting a warm hue on her skin - flushed from our activities.

I buried my face into the crook of her neck, taking deep breaths as I tried to regain some semblance of control.

Her hands ran soothingly over my back, tracing the muscles that rippled beneath her touch. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, both our bodies slick with sweat.

“Am I crushing you?” I asked her.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I was talking to the twins,” I said.

She laughed, her body shuddering beneath me with the force of it. It was a sound I loved - it made her feel real, tangible.

“I think they’re okay too,” She answered, her fingers dancing on my back.

I pushed myself up to look at her face. Her short, dark hair was splayed on the pillow, framing her flushed face. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and for a moment I forgot about everything else.

I leaned down to kiss her softly, my lips moving lazily against hers. Our bodies tangled up in the sheets and each other. The outside world didn’t exist in these moments - the threat of danger, of enemies lurking - all felt distant.

“You have to stop being so sexy if you don’t want me to fuck you all the time.”

She laughed again. “Trust me, I’m working on it. I just keep growing and growing and growing.”

“Is there anything sexier than making our children?” I said, rolling off her.

She giggled, her laughter ringing out in the quiet room, filling the space and chasing away the lurking shadows. “I think you might be a little biased there, Tristan Callahan.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, sliding a hand over her rounded stomach. The twins were making their presence known – two small feet kicking out in clear response to their mother’s laughter. “But can you blame me? You’ve made this...phenomenal.” I pressed a kiss to her belly, whispering words meant only for our unborn children.

“You know what’s not phenomenal? My swollen ankles,” she said.

“I’ll gladly massage them for you,” I offered instantly, eager to ease any discomfort she had.

She chuckled, giving me a grateful look. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

Managing to sit up on the bed, I caught her feet gently and started massaging her ankles. Her sigh of relief was music to my ears. It felt strangely intimate, this simple act of tending to her needs.

“Oh, right there,” she moaned softly, and I pressed deeper into the muscle.

“Better?” I asked after a few minutes, looking up at her.

“Much better,” she said with a content smile on her face. “Thank you, Tristan.”

But her eyes held something more than gratitude--something that made my heart pound against my chest. Love. It shone bright in her gaze, making me feel like the most important man in the world.

“I love you, Ade,” I found myself saying without thinking.

“I love you too,” she said softly, contentedly.

I took a deep breath as my fingers continued to dig into her ankles. “I was wrong, Adriana.”

Her brow furrowed. “About what?”

“About so many things,” I replied, then took a deep breath again, suddenly absolutely certain of what had to come next. “Let’s do it, Ade. Let’s get married.”

Chapter Eight: Adriana

For the first time since I had been told I was going to marry this man, I wanted it.

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