"I'm not most guys," I tell her, squeezing her hand gently. "And seeing you with Poppy, how fierce you are, how completely you love her, that's not something I'd trade."
Her eyes fill with unshed tears, and she blinks rapidly.
"God, I'm a mess. I was so scared."
"I know." I pull her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "But you handled it perfectly. You were so calm for her."
"I wasn't calm inside," she admits, resting her head against my shoulder. "I was terrified."
"That's what makes it brave." I press my lips to her hair. "Being scared and doing it anyway."
We sit like that for a while, her body gradually relaxing against mine. I can feel her heartbeat slowing, her breathing becoming deeper and more even. For a moment, I think she might have fallen asleep.
Then she shifts, turning her face up to mine. "Thank you," she whispers. "For being there. For driving. For all of it."
The gratitude in her eyes undoes me. I brush my thumb across her cheek, then lean down and press my lips to hers. The kiss is gentle at first, a comfort, an acknowledgment of what we've been through tonight.
She melts against me, her body pressing flush. I feel the heat of her, the way she responds. My hands tighten on her waist. Every second I don’t push her down and take what I want is a fucking miracle.
Chapter 15
Sadie
The kiss turns urgent, his mouth taking from me, heat sparking along my skin. I feel my own fear knotted in my stomach, but it’s swallowed by something hotter, more reckless. I want to forget everything except the weight of his hands, the press of his thighs between mine. Axel's hand slides to my waist, steadying me, but I need more. My mind is still racing with images of Poppy's flushed face, the sterile hospital smell, the fear that gripped my throat, and I need it all to stop.
I rise on my knees and swing one leg over his lap, straddling him in one fluid motion. His eyes widen, hands automatically steadying me as I settle against him.
"Sadie," he whispers, voice rough. "Are you sure?"
Instead of answering, I press my mouth to his, taking what I need. The kiss is deeper now, desperate. I roll my hips against him, feeling his hardness beneath me, and he groans into my mouth. His hands tighten on my waist, but he's letting me lead, letting me control this.
I break the kiss, breathing hard. "I need to check on Poppy one more time."
He nods, eyes dark with want but patient. I slip off his lap and move to Poppy's room, cracking the door just enough tosee her sleeping peacefully, her breathing even. I check the baby monitor, making sure the volume is up, then return with it to the living room.
Axel hasn't moved, watching me with those intent eyes. I walk to each window, double-checking the locks, then the front door, one, two, three clicks of the deadbolt. My usual routine, the one that usually calms me. But tonight, even with everything secured, I still feel like I'm vibrating out of my skin.
When I turn back to him, he's still waiting. Just watching. His calm steadiness hits me like a drug, exactly what I need to quiet the noise in my head.
I cross the room and straddle him again, my thighs bracketing his. His hands find my waist immediately, warm and solid.
"Tell me you want this," he says, voice low and rough.
His question slices through the fog, the rough edge of his voice scraping something raw inside me. I can’t look away from his eyes, the way he holds me steady like I might break and he’s not sure if he wants to stop it.
"I need this," I admit, voice barely more than a breath. The words taste desperate, shameful. I press my forehead to his, so he can’t see how much of myself I’m handing over.
I hate the admission, hate how it reveals too much, that this isn't just desire, it's desperation. That I'm using him to ground myself, to chase away the panic still lingering in my veins.
Something shifts in his eyes, recognition, understanding. His grip gentles, thumbs stroking slow circles at my hip bones.
"Okay," he murmurs, and the simple acceptance in his voice nearly breaks me. "Whatever you need."
I kiss him again, harder, trying to drown out the thoughts with sensation. His mouth opens under mine, tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes everything below my ribs tighten and ache.
I grind down, desperate for friction, for the thick line of him pressed against me. The sound that rips from his throat goes straight to my core. I want more. I want him losing control, coming undone because of me.
His hands slip beneath my sweatshirt, big and rough, pausing at the waistband like he’s daring me to stop him. My skin prickles in the wake of his touch. I arch against him, greedy for more, needing his hands to drag me back from the edge of panic. Every inch he explores, I want more, want him to leave marks, want to feel him tomorrow.
