The gesture is so tender, so at odds with the demanding, dominant man I first knew, that I find myself looking up at him in wonder. Our eyes lock, and something electric passes between us. All my careful plans—to take things slow, to think everything through—evaporate in the heat of his gaze.
I rise onto my tiptoes, my hands sliding up to his shoulders, and press my lips to his.
For a heartbeat, he remains still, as if afraid to break the spell. Then his arms tighten around me, and he kisses me back with an intensity that makes my knees weak. His tongue slides along my lips, and I open to him without hesitation. My body remembers this—remembers him—in ways my mind has tried to forget.
"Camille," he breathes against my mouth.
I answer by pressing closer, my fingers tangling in his hair. Something primal and hungry awakens in him; he backs me against the wall, his body pinning mine, his mouth devouring me.
"Alex," I gasp between kisses. "I need you."
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, checking that I'm certain. I am. Whatever rational thoughts I had about proceeding with caution, have been swept away by the tide of want crashing through me.
Alexander lifts me in one smooth motion, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me down the hallway. His mouth never leaves mine, his kisses turning from desperate to deliberate, as if he's savoring what he thought he'd lost.
In my bedroom, he sets me on my feet with surprising gentleness. His hands move to the hem of my dress, a question in his eyes. I nod, and he pulls it over my head, leaving me standing in just my underwear.
"God, look at you," he whispers, his gaze traveling over my body, lingering on the swell of my stomach. He drops to his knees, pressing his lips to the place where our child grows. The tenderness of the gesture brings tears to my eyes.
Then his hands are on my hips, his mouth trailing upward, and tenderness gives way to hunger. I reach for his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He helps me, fingers making quick work of buttons, then stands to remove his pants.
He comes to me, lifting me onto the bed and following me down, his body covering mine carefully so not to hurt me or the baby. "You're mine," he breathes against my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin. "You always will be."
The words should feel possessive, maybe even alarming given our complicated situation. But in this moment, they're exactly what I need to hear—a claiming that goes both ways,because he is also mine, has always been mine, even when we were apart.
"I need you so fucking bad right now," he groans, his hand sliding between my thighs, finding me wet and ready for him.
I arch into his touch, desperate for more. "Please, Alex."
He positions himself between my legs, the head of his cock pressing against me. Our eyes lock as he pushes forward, filling me inch by exquisite inch. The stretch of him inside me feels like coming home.
"You take my cock so well," he murmurs, his hips beginning a rhythm that makes my eyes roll back. "So perfect for me."
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, my hands gripping his shoulders as pleasure builds with each thrust. He watches my face, adjusting his angle until he finds the spot that makes me gasp.
"Fuck. Yes," he encourages, increasing his pace. "I won't ever be without you again, Camille."
The emotional weight of his words combines with the physical pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge. His hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit.
"I'm going to make you come so hard, baby," he promises, his voice rough with exertion and need.
My nails dig into his back. My hips buck against his. And then my orgasm hits with stunning force, my body clenching around him as I call out his name.
“Good girl. You’re such a good fucking girl.”
He comes moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep inside me, moaning and shuddering.
We collapse together, his weight carefully held off my stomach, his face buried against my neck. For a minute, there's nothing but our shared breathing gradually slowing. He shifts to my side, one arm protectively draped over me, his hand splayed across my stomach.
Pure unexpected happiness washes over me. I've missed him—missed this—more than I allowed myself to acknowledge. The connection between us was explosive, undeniable, even when everything else seemed impossibly complicated.
"I've missed you," he whispers, echoing my thoughts. "Every day."
I turn to face him, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips. "I missed you too."
There are still conversations to be had, arrangements to be made. Julian and Tristan are still very much part of my life, my heart. But in this moment, I feel only a strange sense of rightness, as if pieces are finally falling into place.
"What are you thinking?" Alexander asks, his fingers stroking my bare shoulder.
