Page 112 of Mile High Daddy

Then, before I can gather a single rational thought, his mouth crashes against mine.

His hand tightens in my hair, tilting my head back, deepening the kiss until I’m melting into him, drowning in him.

I clutch at his shirt, my fingers curling into the fabric, desperate to hold on to something, because my knees? Completely useless.

His other hand spans my waist, pulling me closer, his body heat sinking into mine, making me feel small, owned, claimed.

I let out a soft moan and he growls against my lips, the sound so deep, so possessive, that a fresh wave of heat floods through me.

He kisses me harder, his tongue sliding against mine, stealing every breath, every thought?—

Until suddenly, I gasp.

Mikhail jerks back instantly, his eyes dark with hunger but now laced with concern.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is gruff, breathless, but his hands are already gentle, steadying me, like he’s afraid he hurt me.

I shake my head quickly. “No, you didn’t—” I pause, pressing a hand to my stomach as a strange sensation ripples through me again.

His eyes drop, watching as my fingers settle over my belly.

The realization hits me, and my chest tightens with something unexplainable.

“One of the babies just kicked,” I whisper, barely able to believe it myself.

Mikhail freezes.

His expression—always so controlled, so unreadable—shifts into something I’ve never seen before. Something raw. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks…stunned. Like the ground just moved beneath him.

I press my hand tighter against my stomach, waiting?—

And then, there it is.

Another kick.

Another tiny, perfect little reminder that there are two other people here with us.

Mikhail stares at my stomach, and for the first time in my life, I see true hesitation on his face. Like he wants to touch but doesn’t know if he can.

My throat tightens, something inside me softening against my will.

So I take his hand?—

And place it over my stomach.

Mikhail’s hand is warm, strong, covering mine as it rests on my belly. For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then, his voice breaks the silence, softer than I expected. “Have they kicked before?”

I swallow, my heart still racing, my body still tingling from the way he kissed me just moments ago. “Yeah, they have,” I admit, “but not as strong as this.”

Mikhail’s lips curve slightly, his fingers flexing against my stomach. “I seem to have that effect.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “Of course you’d find a way to make this about you.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and for the first time in a long time, the tension between us feels different.

Not suffocating.

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