Page 71 of Mortify

"Don't." I press closer. "Don't dismiss this. I know what I'm feeling."

"What are you feeling?"

My hands shake as I frame his face. "Like I could fall in love with you, if you're not too careful."

A smile tugs at his lips. "Who says I want to be careful?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I." His hands span my waist, thumbs brushing just under my ribs. "Careful's never been my style, Goldilocks."

"I'm a mess," I warn. "Pregnant, traumatized. Probably not good for anyone right now. And Goldilocks?"

"Goldilocks suits you, and I don't care about the other shit."

"You should."

"But I don't." He backs me toward the bed. "You're mine now. The rest is just details."

"Regnor—"

He kisses me again, effectively ending the conversation.

This time there's heat behind it, intent.

His hands tangle in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

I melt into him, letting myself feel for the first time in months.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against my lips.

"Don't you dare stop."

He groans, lifting me easily.

My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries me to the bed.

"You sure?" he asks, setting me down gently.

"Yes."

But my hands are shaking as I reach for his cut, push it off his shoulders.

He catches them, brings them to his lips.

"We don't have to do anything," he says. "Not tonight. Not until you're ready."

"I want this," I insist, though my voice wavers. "Want you. Just... be patient with me?"

"Always," he promises.

He kisses me again, slower this time.

Letting me set the pace, following my lead.

His hands stay carefully on safe zones—my waist, my back, my face.

I'm the one who tugs at his shirt, wanting his skin on mine.

---