For several long moments, we stay frozen like that both of us panting. The lights feel hot against my skin from my sweat, almost uncomfortable. “You okay?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades.
I nod, still catching my breath. “More than okay.”
He pulls out slow with a hiss tucking himself away before he helps me stand. He turns me gently, his eyes search mine, and I see the question there still, the suspicion. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me softly, reverently.
“My beautiful wife,” he whispers against my lips. “My clever, surprising,secretivewife.”
I look up at him, my heart still racing. “I love you.”
He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before he starts unraveling the lights rubbing every indent left behind. “I love you too. Even when you’re hiding things from me.”
My stomach flutters.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, scooping me up and carrying me toward the stairs. “And then maybe you can tell me what prompted this particular surprise.”
“Christmas spirit?” I offer weakly.
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “If this is Christmas spirit, I might become religious.”
I rest my head against his shoulder as he carries me to our bathroom, setting me gently on the counter.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs.
I don’t. I just spread my legs as he wets a cloth with warm water and begins to clean me, tender, precise. The edge of Scythe is gone now, replaced with Santo’s steadier hands. His dark gaze tracks every inch of me as he runs the cloth over my thighs before setting it aside. He frowns.
“Lights were a beautiful idea,” he murmurs, “butDea,they marked you up.”
“I like the marks,” I whisper, smiling as my head tips against the mirror.
He leans down, grabbing my arms, inspecting my back, along my waist. Then he moves to the base of my neck, where his bite still throbs faintly.
He brushes his thumb across it, then turns to the drawer, pulling out a small tube of antibiotic cream. “This one’s going to bloom dark,” he mutters, almost to himself, before glancing at me with a sheepish smile. “I hate when I mark you too hard.”
“Iloveit.”
He dabs the ointment onto the bite gently, like he’s afraid to hurt me now. Like he’s trying to protect what just minutes ago he was ruining.
And I don’t know why, but the truth tumbles from my lips before I can stop it.
“I’m pregnant.”
His hands freeze. His breath stops. The room goes still.
I curse inwardly. So much for making it special.
“I found out yesterday,” I rush on, unable to stop the spiral. “I-I put on the lights and I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew if I told you before, you’d hold back, you’d get all soft on me, and I didn’t want that, Santo. IwantedScythe. I wanted the way youalwaystake me. I need that. I need you. And I know—I knowyou’re going to start treating me like I’m made of glass now, and I don’t want that either.”
I’m breathless. My heart is pounding from the vulnerable, unraveling confession I just spilled at his feet.
His hands slowly lower to the counter, framing my thighs. His expression is unreadable.
“You’repregnant,” he says, the words coming out like he’s tasting them, like they’re too big for his mouth.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He exhales sharply, then lets out a sound, a small, disbelieving laugh, but it’s cracked with something softer. Wetter.
He drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed into my lap, his hands gripping my hips as if he’s grounding himself.
