“Let me see you,” I whisper.
Her fingers hesitate at the hem of her sweater. I help her pull it off, then the thermal underneath, until she’s in nothing but a thin white bra and black leggings—the sight of her punches the air out of my lungs.
Her breasts are fuller, straining against delicate lace, nipples dark and peaked from cold and want.
I lean in and press my lips to her stomach, open-mouthed, reverent. Once. Twice. A third time, tasting salt and snow and her.
She makes a small, shattered sound, fingers threading through my hair.
I look up. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her laugh is disbelieving. I kiss my way up her sternum, unhooking her bra with one hand, letting it fall away. Her breasts spill free, heavy and perfect, and when I close my mouth over one tight nipple, she arches so hard she nearly comes off the bed.
I take my time. I have ten weeks to make up for.
I worship her slowly until she’s writhing, gasping my name like a prayer. She’s sensitive everywhere, trembling when I graze my teeth, sobbing when I soothe with my tongue. I slide one hand down her stomach, cupping her over the leggings, and she’s drenched.
“Off,” I growl against her skin. “These need to be gone. Right now.”
She lifts her hips so I can peel the leggings and panties down in one impatient motion. Then she’s naked on my bed, firelight painting gold across every curve, snow falling outside like the world is holding its breath.
I spread her thighs wide and settle between them like I was born to live there.
The first slow lick has her crying out, back bowing. She tastes different, and I lose myself in it, licking and sucking and fucking her with my tongue until her thighs clamp around my head and she comes hard, fingers yanking my hair, my name breaking on her lips.
I crawl up her body, kissing every inch I pass, until I reach her mouth. She kisses me like she’s starving, licking her own taste off my tongue, moaning into me.
“Your turn,” she whispers, pushing at my shoulders.
I let her roll us, let her straddle my hips while she attacks my belt with shaking hands. My cock springs free, aching, and when she wraps her fingers around me, I have to clench my jaw to keep from embarrassing myself.
She strokes once, twice, eyes locked on mine, then bends to take me in her mouth. The sight of her lips stretched around me nearly ends me.
“Savannah, fuck, stop.” I haul her up before I lose it completely. “I need to be inside you. Need to feel you.”
She nods, eyes glassy with want, and I flip us again. I notch myself at her entrance and pause.
“Look at me.”
She does.
“I love you.” I push in slowly, inch by inch, watching her face the whole time. “I love you.” Another inch. “I love you.”
When I’m fully seated, we both shudder. She’s tighter, hotter, and I have to stay still, or this will be over in seconds.
She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my back. “Move,” she begs. “Please, Oliver.”
I do, in slow, deep strokes that have us both moaning. Every time I bottom out, I tell her again how much I love her. That I’m never leaving, she’s mine, the baby is mine. We’re a family.
I slide a hand between us, circling her clit, and she comes again with a broken cry, clenching around me so hard my visionwhites out. I follow her over, burying my face in her neck, spilling inside her with her name on my lips like a vow.
We stay like that, locked together, trembling, hearts hammering in sync. When I can move again, I roll us so she’s draped across my chest, legs tangled, my hand splayed possessively over her belly.
I can’t stop touching it. I trace the gentle curve, press soft kisses to the skin, whisper to the tiny life growing under my palm.
“I missed so much,” I say against her stomach, voice rough with regret. “I’m going to be at everything from now on.”
She threads her fingers through my hair, silent tears slipping into the strands.
