“It’s yours to decorate as you see fit.”
“I… I can do that?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Every detail,” he says, voice soft. “This is yours. For them. You tell me what you want, and it’ll be done.”
I press my hands to my mouth, overwhelmed. “Sandro… I can’t… this is… amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “Just enjoy it. You’ve earned this.”
“We’ve earned this,” I insist, turning to look up at him with awe and wonder.
We linger there for a few more moments, just taking it in as I imagine tiny hands, tiny feet, little laughs filling the space. My heart feels like it might burst.
Then he gently takes my hand again, leading me back to our room. “Come on,” he says softly. “There’s one more surprise for you.”
I laugh, my cheeks aching, and follow him to the bedroom. Before I can even think, he scoops me up, and I can feel the heat of him, the strength, the love. He lays me down on the bed, and I let myself relax into him, into the safety and the joy that only comes when I’m in his arms.
He kisses me slowly, tenderly at first, exploring, savoring. Then it deepens, becomes more urgent, more passionate. I cling to him, pressing my body to his, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat against mine. Every touch, every whisper, every brush of skin is a promise—of love, protection, family.
He pauses, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “You are a wonder, Sunshine,” he murmurs, the love shining in his eyes. And then he kisses me again, slow and sweet, the world outside ceasing to exist for just this moment.
I can feel the joy, the hope, the absolute certainty that this—him, me, our twins—is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Sandro’s hands are warm on my back, tracing slow circles over my shoulders, my arms, my breasts. They ground me even as my heartbeat races. I feel every inch of him pressed against me, the familiar weight and strength that has always made me feel safe, and a shiver of anticipation races through me.
His lips brush across my temple, then the curve of my cheek, slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing me again. I reach up to him, fingers threading through his hair, holding him close.
“God, I want you,” he murmurs against my lips. His voice is low, husky, full of something I can’t name, something that makes my chest ache with desire and love.
“I need you,” I whisper, my voice catching.
He smiles against my mouth, and the kiss deepens, slow at first, tasting, savoring, our lips moving together as we find our rhythm. His hand slides down my side, resting gently on my stomach, and I feel the warmth of his palm, the steady pressure reminding me that he’s here, that he’s mine, and I’m carrying his children inside me.
I press myself closer, letting his strength surround me. Every touch, every sigh, every whisper of his lips is electric. My fingers explore the planes of his back, the ridged flesh that’s been slow to heal but is beautiful in my eyes, nonetheless. I follow the curve of his shoulders, savor the firmness of him under my hands, and he responds in kind, his hands claiming my curves, holding, kneading, cherishing.
He pauses just long enough to look into my eyes, reading me, seeing me. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and my stomach tightens. “Always… now, more than ever.”
His hand cradles my face, his thumb brushing tears I hadn’t realized had fallen, and he kisses me again, soft this time, reverent, as though he’s memorizing every part of me. I feel a warmth in my chest, a thrill, a tremor, and I know it’s not just my love for him—it’s for our life together.
I close my eyes, letting his warmth wash over me, the steady press of his chest against mine, the heat of his skin, the deep, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Every fear, every shadow from the past seems to melt away in that embrace, leaving only the love, the hope, the promise of family.
He whispers my name, low and husky, and I shiver at the sound, pressing myself against him. “I love you,” he breathes. “I love you, Evi. Sodamnmuch.”
“I love you,” I whisper back, voice breaking with emotion. “More than anything.”
A low growl of approval rumbles from his chest, and his fingers slide beneath the hem of my shirt to pull it up over my head. Then around the waist of my leggings to guide them down my hips. I let him strip me—then watch with open appreciation as he quickly removes his own clothes before settling between my thighs once more.
“I could spend a lifetime worshiping this body,” he rasps, his lips more eager, demanding now. “And never get enough.”
I gasp as that sinfully sweet mouth wraps around my tender nipple, sucking gently until arousal gushes to my core. A low,lusty moan slips from me, and Sandro chuckles as his hand trails down my body so his fingers can trace my slick slit.
“Always so eager and ready for me,” he teases, and I whimper as the silken tip of his cock parts my folds, gathering my excitement as he finds my entrance.
“Yes!” I moan, my body throbbing for him.
And in that moment, as he presses inside me, making our bodies one, everything else fades away. It’s just us, just our love, and the life we’ve created together, the babies growing inside me, a promise of the future.
Sandro shifts, holding me closer, letting me feel every inch of him as he rocks inside me. I arch into him, heart racing, hands clutching his hips, face pressed to his chest. I feel so safe, so loved, so… complete.
