Page 103 of California Wild

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you mean for this to happen?”

Jesse laughed.

A full, deep, throaty laugh, something unrestrained and real—something she hadn’t heard in so damn long that it made her chest ache.

“God, no.” He shook his head, amusement flickering across his face. “But…”

He trailed off, eyes raking over her, sliding down to where his oversized t-shirt clung to her frame, where she was carrying something that was half him, half her.

And then—his smirk turned wicked.

“There is something so goddamn hot about you carrying my child.”

Hayley’s breath stalled.

Then—his lips were on hers.

Slow.

Deep.

Not rushed, not frantic, not desperate.

Loving.

His hands slid into her damp hair, his mouth moving against hers like he had all the time in the world.

Like he was telling her, I’ve always loved you. This is happening. And I want it.

And fuck—

For the first time since she had seen those two pink lines, she thought…

Maybe.

Chapter 16

Friday night had melted into something warm and quiet. No chaos, no shows, no schedule. Just her and Jesse tangled on the couch, a blanket draped over them, the low hum of a sitcom playing in the background.

She didn’t even remember which episode they’d started on—only the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, the way he’d absently played with her hair, how safe she felt tucked beneath his arm.

They’d dozed off like that. Curled up together, legs tangled, her body half on top of his.

Sometime after midnight, Jesse had shifted. Lifted her with the kind of strength that always undid her. She’d barely stirred, but she remembered the way he’d kissed her temple as he carried her to bed, whispering something soft and low she hadn’t quite caught.

He’d laid her down like she was breakable.

Then slid in beside her like he wasn’t ever planning to leave.

She woke slowly the next morning, still pressed against him, the faint morning light bleeding through the blinds in golden streaks. The room was quiet, still heavy with sleep, the air soft and warm from their shared heat.

Jesse was on his stomach, his face turned toward her, one arm slung lazily across her hips. The sheets were low on his waist, revealing the full stretch of his back—strong, scarred, sun-kissed.

Hayley let her eyes trace him, slow and reverent.

The curve of his spine. The faint bruises along his ribs. The healed cuts, the ones that hadn’t faded yet. Every mark told a story. Every inch of him reminded her how much he’d given to the world—and how little the world had given back.

She didn’t touch him yet. Just watched.

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