"I know you. That's enough."
She sets down the ice cream, looking at me with an expression I can't quite read. There's vulnerability there. And fear. But also something else—heat, want, need.
"Miles," she says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"I need you. Right now. I need to feel close to you. Need to feel like us before everything changes completely."
My heart rate kicks up. "Everything's already changed."
"I know. But right now, right here, I need it to be just us." Her hand finds mine. "Please."
I pull her to her feet, guiding her to our bedroom. She's trembling slightly—whether from emotion or anticipation, I'm not sure. Probably both.
In our room, I close the door and turn to find Emma already pulling her shirt over her head. Twenty weeks pregnant, starting to show, and absolutely beautiful.
"Emma—"
"Don't overthink this," she says, reaching for me. "Just be with me."
I cross the room in two steps, cupping her face and kissing her—slow and deep and everything we've needed for weeks. She makes a sound against my lips, her hands already working at my shirt buttons.
We undress each other slowly, carefully. When Emma's down to just her underwear, I can see the bump where our twins are growing. I rest my hand there gently.
"Our babies," I whisper.
"Our babies," she confirms. "But right now, I need my husband."
I guide her to the bed, settling her against the pillows. She's watching me with dark eyes, her breathing already uneven.
"I'm going to be gentle," I tell her.
"I'm not fragile."
"You're carrying our babies."
"I'm still me." She pulls me down beside her. "Miles, I need you to touch me like I'm your wife, not like I'm made of glass."
I kiss her again, letting my hands explore—her shoulders, her sides, the curve of her hip. She arches into my touch, making soft sounds that go straight through me.
"More," she breathes.
I slide my hand lower, and she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
"Yes," she whispers. "Like that."
I work her slowly, watching her face as pleasure builds. She's beautiful like this—uninhibited, vulnerable, completely mine.
"Miles—" Her voice breaks. "I need—please?—"
"Tell me what you need."
"You. Inside me. Now."
I shift over her carefully, mindful of the bump between us. Emma wraps her legs around my hips, guiding me closer.
"Gentle," I remind her.
