"This is ours," I tell her, my hips rolling slow and deep. "All of this. You. Me. That baby." I punctuate each word with a thrust that makes her gasp. "Everything we're building."
She answers with a sound that's half moan, half sob—the good kind, the kind that urges me to keep going, to make it last—and her nails rake down my back hard enough to sting.
The pressure of my release builds low in my spine, gathering like a slow tide. Her pussy tightens around me with each thrust, her body giving and taking, matching my pace. I groan in pleasure, sinking into the rhythm of it. The slick heat. The sound of our bodies together. Her breath catching on every downstroke.
"Stay with me," I murmur. "Right there. Feel that?"
"Yes. God, yes."
I angle my hips, changing the intensity of my thrusts, and her whole body jolts beneath me. She gasps sharply, her fingertips digging into my shoulders.
“That’s my girl. You’re taking me so good.” I hold that angle, driving into her steadily, watching her unravel.
"Nick. Nick, I'm—"
"I know. Me too. Come for me, angel. Let me feel it."
Her orgasm rolls over her, tight, pulsing, her body clenching around my cock so hard that every coherent thought I have whites out. Her cry fills the room and I'm right there too.
Pleasure races through my veins. My vision narrows to her face, her mouth, the sound of my name on her lips. Every muscle in my body locks as I bury myself deep and come inside her with a groan that feels wrenched from somewhere deeper than my soul. I grind out her name, barely resisting the urge to roar with the ferocity of my release.
Holy. Fuck.
I don't move for a long time. My face stays pressed against her neck. Her fingers stroke through my hair. The weight of my body presses down on hers, both of us too spent and too content to separate.
Finally I shift, easing onto my side and pulling her with me. She fits against my chest, her head tucked under my chin, her breath warm against my collarbone. I draw the sheets over us both.
My hand seeks her belly. "Hi, little one," I murmur. “Sorry about the bumpy ride.”
Avery laughs softly. Her hand covers mine, fingers lacing together over the life we made.
Her painting leans against the wall where we propped it.Elysiumwatching over us. Storm and peace rendered by my wife's hand. From the bed, the pearlescent upper portion catches the light streaming in through the windows, and for a moment the whole canvas seems to glow.
"Elysium," Avery murmurs, already drifting toward sleep. “That’s what this is.”
“Yeah.” I kiss the top of her blonde head. "Paradise."
"Mm." Her voice is soft, fading. "I always thought of it as the place where you finally get to stop fighting. Where you can just… be. With the person you love."
"I like your version better." I hold her closer. Neither of us moving, even after the daylight begins to shift across our room, warm and slow, when time is in no hurry.
Our wedding waits two days from now. The yacht where we’ll spend a month—or longer—sailing under peaceful blue skies waits for us in the Mediterranean. And our child waits in the shelter of Avery’s body.
I'm done thinking about what I nearly lost. I'd rather count what's here.
This moment. Her. Us.
Home.
And in two more days, our forever will finally begin.
43
AVERY
The penthouse sounds likea flock of extremely well-dressed, beautiful birds has taken up residence in my living room.
"—need more pins over here—"
