Page 19 of False Heir

On the bed was a mass of pillows, blankets, and what looked like a pregnancy body pillow I didn’t remember us owning.

He turned to me, an apprehensive look on his face. “I…uh…heard these were good for pregnant women, so I ordered one. If you don’t like it then—“

“You heard?”

“Okay, I read. A lot. I read a lot about this.”

I chuckled at his confession, my heart fluttering in my chest. It was the small moments like these that reminded me why I had fallen in love with Tristan. Despite the terrifying life we lived, he still found ways to make each day feel like a gift.

“It’s perfect,” I murmured, stepping into the room and running my fingers over the soft fabric of the pillow. Its length seemed designed to support every part of my body that had been protesting over the last few weeks.

“Come here,” he called, patting the bed beside him. The wooden floor creaked under my weight as I climbed onto our bed and leaned against him, his arms immediately wrapping around me in a comforting embrace.

I snuggled into his warmth, feeling the hardness of his lean muscles against my back. His fingers began to trace circles over my belly, a soothing rhythm that lulled me into a sense of security despite the chaos outside our door.

“You think we’re safe here?” I asked after some time, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I think we’re safer here than anywhere else,” he replied, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against my back. “And if they come for us...if they come for the three of you…well, they’ll have to get through me first.”

Chapter Nine: Tristan

I didn’t know how to tell her that I didn’t think we were safe anywhere.

Early morning light filtered lazily through the curtains of the getaway cabin, casting a gentle glow over the tangled sheets where we lay. I felt her warmth against my body, a comforting presence that filled the space with something more potent than heat.

“Tristan,” Adriana murmured sleepily, her voice a soft hum in the quiet room. I couldn’t help but tighten my hold around her, reveling in the feeling of her body pressed to mine.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” My voice was a low rumble, betraying the current of desire that had me longing for more than just her proximity.

“Maybe,” she replied with a hint of mischief in her tone that made my lips curve into a smile.

Letting my hand drift slowly down her side, I savored the smoothness of her skin as it led me to the swell of her bump. The life we created together, a bond that tightened with every flutter and kick from within. Past her bump, my fingertips ventured further south until they brushed over her clit with a leisurely caress.

A deep moan escaped her lips, vibrating against my shoulder where her head rested. Encouraged by the sound, I let my fingers explore, tracing circles that grew tighter and more insistent with each pass.

“Remember that party?” I whispered against her ear, my breath hot on her skin. “The way you looked at me across the room... I wanted to bend you over right then and there.”

Her breathing hitched, and I felt her body respond, pressing into my touch as if seeking more—more pressure, more pleasure, more of the unspoken promise between us. It wasn’t just about lust; it was about marking moments of ours, threading them through the fabric of our intertwined lives.

“Tristan,” she breathed out, her voice a blend of desire and a smile that didn’t need to be seen to be felt.

“Adriana,” I murmured, letting her name roll off my tongue like a vow as my fingers slipped further inside her. She gasped, arching into my touch, and I couldn’t help but bite down gently on the nape of her neck, pulling at her hair to tilt her head back, exposing more of her to my hungry mouth.

“You’re mine,” I growled softly, each word punctuated by the rhythm I set with my fingers. “And soon, you’ll be my wife.”

She squirmed beneath me, her body tightening around my probing digits. The air was thick with the scent of her arousal, intoxicating and undeniable. My other hand cradled her face, thumb stroking her cheek as I continued to claim her flesh with my mouth.

“If you weren’t already carrying our child,” I whispered against her sensitive skin, “I’d get you pregnant all over again, right here, right now.”

Her response was a whimper that sent a surge of possessiveness through me. It was raw and primal, this need to claim her completely—as if every cell in my body was attuned to her.

“Please,” she pleaded, her hips bucking up to meet my hand. The urgency in her voice nearly broke me, but I held back, wanting to draw out every shiver, every moan.

As she humped herself on my fingers, chasing the release that I controlled, I leaned in close to her ear once more, my words a sinful promise, “Once we have these babies, I’m putting another one inside you.”

“Is that right?”

“You’ve always been mine, Adriana,” I confessed, a fierce whisper that matched the frenetic pace of my fingers. “Since those days when I’d watch you pass by my locker, every part of me has wanted to claim you.”

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