I hold her through it, kissing her throat, her cheek, the corner of her mouth as I move inside her, trying to give her everything I have.
Everything I am.
Even as she clings, arms locked tight, I feel the fear she can’t let go of, the walls she’s still gripping for safety.
I roll us onto our sides, keeping her close, gathering her against me until she’s curled in my arms. Eventually she exhales, cheek pressing against my skin as her body melts into mine.
The quiet of the moment seeps into me. Holding her like this makes me ache with how much I want this woman. Not just her body but the hidden parts she keeps locked away. It hits me that maybe if I take the first step and show her the hidden parts of myself, she’ll do the same and finally believe this is more than sex.
I steady myself and force out the question. “You know the picture of my family in the living room?”
Her voice is drowsy. “Mm-hmm.”
“My dad died right after it was taken. It’s the last one I have of us all together.”
Her lashes lift, eyes blinking open, startled by the quiet admission.
Even though it’s difficult, I swallow hard. “Hayes was still in high school when it happened. One day he was just my brother, and the next, he was… everything. He had to take care of us, keep the house running, and keep me in line. He became more of a father figure than a sibling, and it wasn’t fair to him, but he did it anyway.”
The truth comes out raw and jagged, but I continue because she deserves this part of me too. “He held us together when we could’ve easily fallen apart. He was good at it. Better than anyone his age in the same circumstances should’ve been. No matter how hard he tried, though, there was always a hole none of us could fill.”
I glance down at her, at the way her fingers curl lightly against my chest. “I swore if I ever had a kid, I’d never let them feel that kind of loss. Not if I could help it.”
What I keep to myself is that losing her would feel like losing the only family I ever built for myself.
She stares at me with eyes that are glassy with emotion, and for a second, I almost think she understands me and where I’m coming from.
“That’s the problem, Oliver. You’re saying all the right things because of this baby. But it can’t be the only thing holding us together.”
Her fingers twitch against me, as if she’s reaching for something she can’t quite make herself take.
Her response hits like a blade between my ribs.
The only thing holding us together?
This woman has no idea that she’s the axis my whole damn world tilts on. Of course the baby matters. But Rina?
She’s everything.
I frame her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me, needing her to hear the truth. “You still don’t get it. I’m not here because of the baby. I’m here because of you. You’re already enough—you’re everything. You always have been.”
She shakes her head, a denial trembling on her lips, but her body betrays her as she arches into me, clinging tighter, holding me like she’s terrified of letting go.
I roll us over, pulling her on top of me, needing her to see, to feel the truth in everything I’ve confessed. Her hair falls forward in a dark curtain, shutting out the rest of the world until it’s only us, as she braces her hands on my chest.
“Look at me,” I rasp, gripping her hips. “Don’t you dare think you’re not enough.”
Her eyes meet mine, and when she finally moves, it nearly shatters me. The sight of her above me, vulnerable and open, unravels me.
Each roll of her hips is a promise, each sigh a reminder of what’s already between us.
“That’s it, baby,” I groan. “You and me. Always.”
A tremor runs through her as her nails bite into my skin. The way she clings is proof she hears me, even if she’s not ready to say it back. Her pace falters, but I steady her hips, guiding her into a tempo that drives us both higher.
“Oliver,” she whispers, my name breaking on her lips, torn between fear and need.
“Let go for me,” I say. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
