“I told my dad I’m pregnant,” I blurt, and he stills. “I’m sorry. We were having a moment, missing my mom and crying together. I just… needed to give him something good. Something happy.” The silence stretches, heavy. My stomach knots.God, did I ruin it?
Then his hand slides up my stomach, over my breasts, to my cheek. He cups it gently, turning me toward him. His eyes search mine for a beat before he lays me flat and presses his lips to mine, firm and certain. “Was he excited?”
His mouth moves against mine, tongue teasing.
“Yes,” I whisper between kisses. “You’re not mad?”
“Nope.” He kisses me deeper, his palm closing over my breast. “I could never be mad at you.”
I snort, the moment breaking as I grin against his lips. “That’s so not true. I could name a dozen things right now that would make you mad at me.”
He shakes his head, amused. “Name one.”
“Um, okay. What if I sent that dick pic you sent me the other day to the family group text?”
“That wouldn’t make me mad. Embarrassed? Maybe. But mad? Nah. That’s fucking funny.”
“What it I posted it to social media?”
“Wouldn’t blame you. It’s a good dick.”
“Oh my God!” I grin wider. “And if I sold your basketball cards?”
“Okay, you win.” He kisses me. “I’d be pissed if you sold my cards.” His chuckle vibrates against my mouth as his lips slide down my jaw to my ear, tongue flicking against the shell. His voice drops. “Now will you stop talking so I can give you the best damn birthday orgasm a girl could ask for?”
Butterflies flicker low, heat swirling as his hand slips between my thighs, and I gasp. “Yes. I’ll be quiet.”
He chuckles against my ear, voice dark and low. “I didn’t say anything about being quiet.”
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, then slides a finger inside me, curling it just right. A moan tears out of me, and his grin turns wicked as his mouth claims mine.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs against my lips, smug.
He eases his finger free, slow and deliberate, then pulls my shirt up over my head. His mouth trails down my chest, teasing, lingering, sucking at my nipples until I’m writhing beneath him. Then he shifts lower, kisses skimming down my stomach, heading south?—
“Wait, babe.”
He stills immediately, eyes flicking up to mine.
“Just kiss me a little longer,” I whisper. “I want to make out for a bit first… then you can do whatever you want to me.”
A slow grin spreads across his face as he presses a tender kiss to my belly, his palm rubbing gently over it like he’s already imagining our baby there. Then he shifts up, hovering over me. His eyes lock with mine, lingering, admiring. “You’re my favorite person, Al.”
“You’re mine too,” I whisper.
His lips find mine, slow at first, and I kiss him with everything in me. My arms loop around his neck, anchoring myself to him as his mouth moves over mine—warm, steady, sure. For a heartbeat the noise of the world drops away and it’s just us and the thrum of his pulse against my palms.
Memories crash through in a rush, the good and the bad, reminding me of how we got here. Our first kiss. First sleepover. All the times he made me laugh. The times he made me cry. When being with Jensen was the safest thing in the world.
When it wasn’t.
When I did everything right and everything went wrong.
When he came back for me…
I never thought I was the one who needed saving, but God, he rescued me. Pulled me from the sad hole I’d buried myself in and showed me how to live again. How to breathe. How to laugh. How to love.
He saved me. Saved us.
