"Which one am I?"
"You're both," I say simply. "You're the man I was supposed to marry because our families needed this alliance. And you're the man I love because I can't help myself."
He kisses me again, rolling me onto my back and settling between my thighs. I can feel how much he wants me, and my body responds immediately, arching against him.
"I love you," he says against my lips. "I love you and our baby and this life we're building together."
"Show me," I whisper.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the silk nightgown higher, and I help him pull it over my head. The morning light streaming through the windows illuminates my changing body—my fuller breasts, the curve of my belly, the way pregnancy has softened my edges in some places and made me more sensitive in others.
"God, you're beautiful," he says, his hands mapping every inch of newly discovered territory. "And unbelievably perfect for me."
I should be self-conscious about the changes, about the fact that my body isn't the same as it was when we firstmade love. Instead, I feel powerful. Radiant. Like a goddess of fertility.
"Touch me," I tell him, guiding his hands to where I need them most.
He does, fingers finding me already wet and ready for him. The pregnancy has made everything more intense—every touch, every sensation amplified to the point where I feel like I might shatter from pleasure.
"Please," I gasp as he teases me, building the pressure until I'm trembling beneath him. "I need you."
"I know what you need." His voice is rough with want, but there's a new tenderness there too. "I'll always give you what you need."
When he slides inside me, we both moan at the sensation. Everything feels different now, more connected, like our bodies were made specifically for this moment.
He moves slowly at first, mindful of the baby.
"I won't break," I tell him, wrapping my legs around his waist. "The doctor said everything is fine. More than fine."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. I need you, Damon. All of you."
His control snaps, and he starts moving with the passion I remember from our first night together. But this is different—deeper, more meaningful, tinged with love and commitment and the knowledge that we're building something permanent together.
I come apart beneath him, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck as he shudders through his release.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, my head on his chest, his fingers stroking through my hair.
"I have something to tell you," he says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
"What?"
"I bought us another villa."
I lift my head to look at him. "You what?"
"A villa. Well, technically it's an estate. Private, secure, with enough space for a big family."
"You bought us a house without telling me?"
"I bought us a house as a wedding present. There's a difference."
I sit up, pulling the sheet around me. "Damon, you can't buy major real estate without discussing it with your wife."
"I can if I want to surprise my wife with the perfect place to raise our children."
"Children? Plural?"
