Page 7 of Bound in Silk

Surprisingly, she complies, turning slowly to reveal her back, the elegant curve of her spine leading down to where her skirt still covers the matching panties. Without being asked, she reaches for the zipper at the back of her skirt, lowering it before letting the garment pool at her feet.

Now she stands before me in nothing but the lingerie—emerald bra and panties that showcase rather than conceal, that honor the slight changes in her body while emphasizing her innate sensuality. My name, invisible to the eye but present nonetheless, embroidered against her most intimate places. Mine. All mine.

"The waistband," I say, my voice barely controlled. "Show me."

She knows exactly what I'm asking for. Her fingers move to the inside of the panties' waistband, folding it outward to reveal the embroidered "Vance" stitched in matching thread. The sight of my name against her skin, so close to where our child grows, sends a surge of possessive heat through me so intense it borders on pain.

"Does it bother you?" I ask, genuinely curious about her reaction to such an obvious claiming. "My name on your skin?"

Her eyes meet mine, vulnerability and defiance warring in their depths. "It should," she admits. "It's presumptuous. Possessive."

"But?" I prompt, hearing the unspoken qualification in her voice.

"But I like it," she whispers, the admission clearly costing her something. "I like knowing it's there, even when no one else can see it."

The last thread of my control snaps at her words. I close the remaining distance between us, one hand tangling in her honey-blonde hair while the other curves possessively around her hip."Say it," I demand, needing to hear the words from her lips. "Say who you belong to."

Rebellion flashes in her eyes—the independence that makes her who she is, the fire I never want to extinguish completely. For a moment, I think she'll refuse, retreat back behind her walls of resistance. Then her body softens against mine, surrender in every line of her.

"Yours," she whispers, the word both capitulation and liberation. "I'm yours, Knox."

I claim her mouth with bruising intensity, months of restraint incinerated by three simple words. She responds with equal fervor, her hands gripping my shoulders as if afraid I might disappear, might withdraw the claiming she's finally admitted needing. As if I could ever let her go again now that she's acknowledged the truth we've both known since the beginning.

I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her from the study toward the master bedroom—our bedroom, though she hasn't slept there since returning to the penthouse. Her mouth never leaves mine as I move with single-minded purpose, laying her on the bed with more gentleness than the hunger raging through me would suggest possible.

"I've waited for this," I tell her, standing at the foot of the bed to remove my clothes with efficient movements. "Waited for you to come to me. To admit what we both know."

"I know," she responds, her eyes darkening as she watches me undress. "You've been so patient."

"My patience is at an end." Naked now, I join her on the bed, my body covering hers, my weight supported on my forearms. "No more pretending, Seraphina. No more resisting what's between us. No more sleeping in separate rooms, maintaining artificial distance when we both know where you belong."

Her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders, nails digging in slightly as if to anchor herself against the intensity between us. "And where's that?"

"Here." I press my hips against hers, letting her feel the physical evidence of my desire. "Beneath me. Around me. Taking everything I have to give you." I lower my mouth to her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Wearing my name against your skin. Carrying my child in your body. Surrendering to what you've been fighting since the moment I brought you home."

A small sound escapes her—half moan, half whimper—as her body arches instinctively into mine. The emerald lace of her bra rubs against my chest, a sensual reminder of my claim made physical.

"These are beautiful on you," I murmur, tracing the lace edge where it meets her skin. "But I need them off. Now."

With practiced ease, I unfasten the delicate clasp, removing the bra to reveal her breasts—fuller now with pregnancy, more sensitive if her sharp intake of breath as the cool air hits them is any indication. I take my time exploring these changes, cupping their weight in my palms, brushing my thumbs across nipples that pebble instantly at my touch.

"Knox," she gasps, her head falling back against the pillows. "Please."

"Please what?" I demand, replacing one hand with my mouth, drawing her nipple between my lips. "Tell me what you need, angel."

"You," she admits, abandoning the last pretense of resistance. "Inside me. Now."

The panties join the bra on the floor, leaving her gloriously naked beneath me. I take a moment to simply look at her, to appreciate the subtle changes in her body that signal the growth of our child. The slight roundness to her lower abdomen. Theincreased fullness of her breasts. The flush that spreads across her skin, making her glow with new life.

"Beautiful," I murmur, reverence in my voice as I run my hand over the barely perceptible curve of her stomach. "Even more beautiful knowing you're carrying my child. My heir. Physical proof of what's between us."

She shivers at my words, her legs parting in unmistakable invitation. I position myself between them, the head of my cock nudging at her entrance, finding her already slick with desire despite the minimal foreplay. Ready for me. Always ready for me, even when her mind fights what her body knows is right.

"Look at me," I command, needing to see her eyes as I reclaim her completely. "I want to watch you remember exactly who you belong to."

Those green-gold eyes lock on mine, vulnerable and wanting in equal measure. With one powerful thrust, I bury myself to the hilt inside her, both of us groaning at the exquisite sensation of reconnection. She's tight, hot, perfect—her body welcoming me home even as her nails dig crescents into my shoulders.

"Mine," I growl against her throat as I establish a rhythm designed to break down any remaining resistance. "Say it again, Seraphina. Tell me who you belong to."

---