Page 26 of Inked Athena

“There,” he says, voice rough and deep. “One less thing to stress about. You don’t have to worry about getting pregnant anymore.” His hand reaches for my stomach but stops just shy of touching. “Because if you’re not already, you soon will be.”

Jaw, meet floor.

I should be outraged. Should be furious at his high-handedness, his assumption of control over my body. Instead, I find myself fighting back a smile at the barely concealed hunger in his expression. At the way his fingers tremble slightly in the space between us, betraying that this display of dominance masks something much more vulnerable.

My lips part to challenge him, because someone needs to point out how ridiculous this all is.

“Are you seriously telling me,” I say, finding my voice, “that you just chucked my birth control into the ocean, then promised to knock me up?”

His lips curve into something that’s not quite his usual smirk. It’s softer somehow. Teasing.Dangerous. “Would you rather I left it to chance?” His voice drops lower, intimate. “Left us wondering, waiting?”

He moves closer, backing me against the counter again.

“Tell me you don’t want this, too.” His hand hovers near my belly, not quite touching. “Tell me you don’t want it every fucking bit as bad as I do.”

My hand finds his where it hovers over my stomach, and I press his palm flat against me. His fingers spread wide, possessive and protective all at once. A small sound escapes him—something so raw and honest it makes my throat tight.

His other hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to his. “Nova…” he breathes, and I can hear everything he’s not saying in those two syllables.

I watch his control crack just a little more as his gaze drops to my lips.

His fingers curl in the hem of my shirt, drawing it up with aching slowness. I shiver as his palms slide over my skin, mapping every inch as if searching for changes that couldn’t possibly show yet. His touch sets off sparks everywhere he makes contact, but it’s different from his usual intensity. There’s reverence in the way his thumbs trace my hipbones, my ribs.

It’s worship.

“Obviously,” he murmurs against my neck, “I want my baby in here.” His hands span my waist, thumbs meeting just below my navel. The possessiveness in his touch makes me tremble, but it’s the gentleness that brings tears to my eyes.

“Samuil…” I whisper back, and something in my voice makes him lean away to study my face.

His pupils are blown wide, turning his eyes almost black as they track over my features. When his thumbs brush away tears I didn’t realize had fallen, the tenderness in the gesture undoes me completely.

“Are we really doing this?”

I need to hear him say it. Need something solid to hold onto in this moment that feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. Like everything is about to change.

His forehead presses against mine. I feel his breath shudder out. “We’re doing this.” His voice is rough, like the words are being dragged from somewhere deep inside him. “You and me. Our child.” His hand slides back to my stomach, protective and possessive. “Mine to protect. Both of you.”

My fingers find the buttons of his shirt as his mouth descends toward mine.

His kiss crashes into me with an urgency I’ve never felt from him before. It’s desperate and tender all at once, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he can’t voice into the connection between us. My legs wrap around his waist as he lifts me onto the counter, pulling him closer, needing to feel his heart thundering against mine.

His hands roam my body with new purpose, learning me all over again with this fresh knowledge between us. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, then comes back up to capture my mouth again, like he can’t decide which part of me he wants to taste most.

“Together,” I promise, cupping his face between my palms.

He presses closer, deepening the kiss until I’m dizzy with it. One of his hands splays across my lower back while the other tangles in my hair, cradling my head as he moves against me. Every touch feels heightened, charged with new meaning.

Every kiss feels like a vow.

When he finally pulls back to look at me, I see our future written in his eyes. Whatever comes next —whatever challenges we face—we’ll face them together. As a family.

His hands slide under my thighs, lifting me off the counter. “Bedroom,” he growls against my lips. “Now.”

He carries me like I weigh nothing. My legs tighten around his waist, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back. The world tilts and spins, a blur of polished wood and shimmering crystal, but my focus narrows to the man holding me.

To the heat radiating off his skin.

To the way his heart hammers against my chest.

---