"We do." He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. "But I want you to know—wherever you go, I go. If your career takes you to New York, we go to New York. If you want to stay in Florida, we stay in Florida. If you want to try Ireland for a while,we'll make it work. I don't care where we are, as long as we're together."
"What about the club? My father?—"
"Your father gave me his blessing. Whatever that means for the future, we'll figure it out." He smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing I've seen all day. "Stop worrying about logistics, love. We just found out our baby is healthy. Let's enjoy that for a minute."
He's right. He's absolutely right.
I pull him down and kiss him—soft at first, then deeper.
He tastes like coffee and exhaustion and relief.
His hand comes up to cup my face, gentle despite the strength I know is in those fingers.
"I need you," he murmurs against my lips. "I know you're hurt, I know this isn't the time, but?—"
"I need you too."
It's true.
After everything—the fear, the pain, the hours of not knowing if I'd ever see him again—I need to feel him.
Need to know he's real, that this is real, that we survived.
"The door?—"
"Has a lock." He's already moving, crossing the room in two strides and flipping the deadbolt.
When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark with want. "Are you sure? If it's too much?—"
"Get over here."
He's at my bedside in an instant, his mouth finding mine again.
The kiss is deeper this time, more urgent.
His hands are careful as they skim down my body, avoiding the bandages, but there's nothing careful about the way he's kissing me.
Like I'm oxygen and he's been drowning.
"I love you," he breathes against my neck. "God, Dalla, I love you so much."
"I love you too."
He helps me shift on the bed, making room for him.
The hospital gown is easy to push aside, and then his hands are on my skin—warm and reverent, touching me like I'm something precious.
Something sacred.
"I almost lost you," he says again, and this time it's not grief in his voice.
It's something else. Something darker, more primal. "I'm never letting that happen again. You're mine. This baby is mine. And I will kill anyone who tries to take you from me."
"I know."
"I need you to know it." His hand slides down my stomach, gentle over the bandaged cuts, then lower. "I need you to feel it."
And then he's touching me, and I stop thinking altogether.
