Nikolai's head snaps up, and those ice-blue eyes meet mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "My...son?"
I nod, tears already building in my eyes. "Yes, Nikolai. Your son."
"You're pregnant?" His voice is barely a whisper.
"Almost four months."
His face goes rigid. A muscle ticks in his jaw. And then—oh God, tears well in his eyes, turning that icy blue into something soft and shimmering.
I've seen this man kill without flinching. I've watched him face down enemies with nothing but cold fury in his gaze. But right now, looking at the grainy image of our baby, Nikolai Morozov looks utterly undone.
"I wanted to surprise you. On Christmas. Here." I gesture around the room. "Where it all began."
His gaze softens, and he looks down at the sonogram again, studying it like it holds the secrets of the universe.
"A son," he murmurs, tracing the tiny outline with his fingertip. "We're having a boy."
"We are."
He sets the sonogram down carefully and then cups my face in his large hands. His thumbs brush away my tears as he stares into my eyes with so much love it makes my soul ache.
"Thank you,solnyshko," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Thank you for loving me. For choosing me, even when I gave you every reason not to. For giving me a family." He presses his forehead to mine. "For giving me a son."
"I would choose you a thousand times over," I whisper. "In every life. In every universe. It's always you."
He kisses me then, a deep and desperate kiss that is so full of love it makes my heart dance. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head so he can kiss me deeper, and I moan against his mouth.
When we finally break apart, a slow smile spreads across my face.
"Do you remember what we did last Christmas Day?" I ask.
He thinks for a moment, and a wicked gleam enters his eyes. "If I remember rightly, we spent the day in bed. Naked."
I grin. "You remember right." I trail my fingers down his chest. "Want to shut out the rest of the world today?"
Something dark and hungry flashes in his gaze. "Is that safe? For the baby?"
I laugh. "The doctor says it's perfectly fine."
"Then who am I to argue with medical advice?"
Before I can respond, he scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing, and I let out a surprised squeal that quickly dissolves into laughter.
But he's already carrying me toward the stairs, his long strides eating up the distance to our bedroom.
"I'm going to spend the rest of the day making you moan my name, Mrs. Morozov," he growls against my ear, and a shiver of anticipation rolls through me.
"Promise?"
"Always."
He kicks open the bedroom door and lays me down on the massive bed, his body covering mine a heartbeat later. His mouth finds my neck, my jaw, the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me gasp.
"I love you," he murmurs against my skin.
"I love you too," I breathe. "Both of you."
His hand slides down to rest on my still-flat stomach, and he pauses, looking down at where our child grows inside me. The tenderness in his expression makes my heart crack wide open.
