Page 162 of Nine Months to Bear
That startles a laugh out of me. “Oh, God, we will, won’t we?”
“Terrible.” But he’s smiling now, that rare, real smile that transforms his whole face. “Poor kid’s gonna need so much therapy.”
“Or…” I kiss the line of his jaw. “Maybe we can be agoodexample. The kind of example that neither of us ever got.”
“How?”
“By trying.”
He catches my hand, presses it flat against his chest where his heart beats steady and strong.
Love.The nastiest of all the four-letter words. I’ve spent my whole life trying to earn it. But here Stefan is, just… giving it to me. Before I even asked, he loved me.
I wish I could tell him how much that means.
“Stefan, I?—”
“No more talking.” Something shifts in him. Gears revving up, an engine roaring to life. “I’m done with words.”
He lifts me from the chair like I weigh nothing. My legs lock around his waist as he carries me up the stairs. Every step jolts through me. His grip is hard. Possessive.
He kicks open his bedroom door, and suddenly, I’m pressed against the wall, his body caging me in. The cool plaster bites into my back through the thin fabric of my dress.
“What do you want?” he demands to know. His mouth hovers inches from mine. “Not what you think I want to hear. What you actually want.”
“I want you to stop being gentle with me,” I whisper. “I want you to stop treating me like I might break.”
A dark, hungry heat flares up in his eyes. “You sure about that, little fox? Because once I stop holding back, there’s no going back.”
“Good.” I dig my nails into his shoulders. “I don’t want you to hold back anymore.”
He growls and melds his mouth to mine. His teeth nip at my lip and I moan against him.
“That’s it,” he croons. “Let me hear you scream.”
His hands tear at my dress. The fabric gives way with a sound of ripping silk. Cool air hits my skin, then his hands set me on fire.
“You’re mine,” he says, and it’s not a question or a plea. It’s a statement of fact. “Say it back.”
“I’m yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Stefan.”
His fingers find me, and I twitch with a broken cry.
I can’t form whole words, can only cling to him as he works me higher and higher. The pressure builds until I’m shaking, desperate, on the edge of falling apart. “P-pl-please?—”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop.”
“I’m never stopping.” His thumb finds my clit and pushes me over the edge. “You’re carrying my child. You’re mine now. Forever.”
I come apart in his arms, my vision going white as pleasure tears through me.
If he left me now, that would be enough. I’d be limp and satisfied for many dazed hours to come. But he doesn’t leave.
