She’s trembling, but it’s not from fear.
It’s from everything we are. Everything we could be.
Her mouth is warm and urgent on mine, and when I pull her in tighter, I feel her entire body tremble against me.
I carry her from the nursery to my bedroom, her legs cinched around my waist, her fingers curled into the back of my neck like she can’t bear to let go. I don’t want her to. Not ever again.
When I lay her down on the bed, her eyes find mine, wet with unshed tears and something else too. Hunger. Hope. Home.
She reaches for the buttons of her blouse, but I stop her with a quiet “Let me.”
One by one, I undo them slowly, brushing my fingers across the soft skin of her chest as I go, pressing kisses in the places I reveal. Her breath hitches, chest rising to meet me, nipples tightening beneath the lace of her bra. She’s so damn beautiful it hurts.
I strip her gently, reverently, sliding her blouse off her shoulders, unhooking her bra, and letting it fall away. She gasps when my mouth closes over one of her breasts, my tongue teasing slow circles around the sensitive peak while I cup the other in my hand, thumb flicking across it until she moans, low and breathy.
Her hands tug at my shirt, fumbling with the hem.
“Take it off,” she pants.
I do, yanking the shirt over my head with shaking hands, breath already coming too fast. My pulse is a thunderclap in my ears, my chest tight with the sheer weight of her, everything she is, everything we’ve come back from.
Then I help her out of her jeans, her panties, my fingers clumsy, reverent, like I’m undressing something sacred.
When she’s naked beneath me, I freeze, not out of hesitation, but awe. I just look at her.
Soft curves. Strong thighs. That faint, unmistakable glow in her skin.
My heart stutters.
My throat burns.
And when my gaze drops to her belly, the smallest, most breathtaking hint of new life, something cracks wide open in my chest.
My hands tremble as I lower myself, breath catching as I press my lips to that tender swell.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper against her skin. “All of you.”
She cups my face, pulls me back up, and kisses me like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered, like she’s pouring every broken piece, every second chance, every heartbeat into my mouth.
It hits me like a punch to the chest. I groan into the kiss, hands fisting in the sheets on either side of her, trying to hold myself together while everything in me wants to fall apart for her.
Her thighs fall open beneath me, welcoming, trembling.
And when I slip a hand between them…
Fuck.
She’s already soaked.
My cock throbs at the feel of her, the heat and slick and need that has my head spinning. I stroke her slowly, gently at first, and the second her hips twitch and a soft whimper escapes her lips, I nearly lose it.
Watching her come undone beneath my fingers?
It’s a fucking miracle.
And I want to worship her through every second of it.
She’s writhing, whispering my name, gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring her to the world.
