"No. Feels good. Really good."
He takes his time after that, learning my changing body with patient attention. His hands map every curve while his mouth follows, kissing and tasting like he's memorizing me. When he reaches my stomach, he pauses, pressing his lips to the slight swell where our child grows.
"I love you," he says against my skin. "Both of you."
Tears prick my eyes. "Say it again."
"I love you, Hannah Quinn." He looks up at me. I see everything he usually hides laid bare. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
I pull him up to me, needing his mouth on mine. The kiss is different now—slower, deeper, more honest. We're not hiding anymore. Not from each other, not from what this is.
His shirt comes off. I run my hands over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the tattoos I've memorized in secret. He's so beautiful it hurts to look at him sometimes.
"Your turn," he says, helping me out of his shirt until I'm bare beneath him.
His gaze is reverent. I feel desired. Cherished.
He takes his time undressing, letting me watch. When he's finally naked, he settles between my thighs with careful intent.
"Tell me if anything hurts," he says. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
"I will. But I won't."
He enters me slowly, so slowly, giving my body time to adjust. The stretch is exquisite, familiar and new all at once. When he's fully seated inside me, we both go still, just breathing together.
"Okay?" he asks.
"Perfect."
He starts to move, long slow strokes that build heat gradually. Nothing frantic or desperate this time. Just us, connected, learning each other all over again.
I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. His forehead drops to mine, our breath mingling as we find a rhythm together.
"I love you," I whisper. "I love you so much."
"Ya tebya lyublyu," he responds in Russian, the words rough with emotion. "My Hannah. Mine."
His hand slides between us, finding the bundle of nerves that makes me gasp. He works me with practiced skill, knowing exactly how I like to be touched.
"That's it," he encourages when I start to tighten around him. "Let go for me,zayka. I've got you."
The orgasm builds slowly, pleasure spiraling higher with each thrust. When I finally fall over the edge it’s with his eyes locked on mine.
He follows moments later, burying his face in my neck as he comes with a satisfied groan.
We stay like that for a long time afterward, still connected, neither of us willing to break the intimacy. His hand rests on my stomach, protective and possessive.
"I'm going to keep you safe," he promises. "Both of you. Whatever it takes."
"I know."
"And I'm going to destroy anyone who tries to hurt you."
"I know that too."
He pulls back to look at me. "Does that scare you?"
I think about it honestly. "It should. But it doesn't."
