"In the kitchen," I reply, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
He appears in the doorway, grocery bags in his massive hands, dark eyes immediately scanning me for signs of distress or danger. It's automatic for him, this assessment, this constant vigilance.
"What's wrong?" he asks, setting the bags on the counter without looking away from my face.
I swallow hard. "Nothing's wrong. I just—" The words catch in my throat. How do I tell him? How do I explain that his fantasy has become reality?
He crosses to me in three long strides, hands coming up to cup my face. "You're crying," he says, thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "Tell me."
I take a deep breath, placing my hands over his. "I'm pregnant," I whisper, watching his face carefully for his reaction. "We're going to have a baby."
For a moment, he goes completely still, his expression frozen. Then something shifts in his eyes—a fierce, primal joy that takes my breath away.
"Mine," he growls, one hand sliding down to press against my stomach. "My baby. Inside you."
Relief washes through me at his reaction. "Yes," I confirm, covering his hand with mine. "Your baby."
He drops to his knees in front of me, an action so unexpected it startles a gasp from my lips. Gray, who towers over everyone, who dominates every room, is kneeling before me. His hands frame my hips, his forehead pressing against my still-flat belly.
"Thank you," he murmurs against me, his voice rough with emotion. "For giving me this. For carrying my child."
Tears flow freely now, dripping from my chin as I thread my fingers through his hair. I've never seen him like this—vulnerable, reverent. It's as if the last piece of his feral nature has been momentarily tamed by the news of our child.
He stands suddenly, lifting me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. "Need you," he says, carrying me toward the bedroom. "Need to feel you."
His gentleness surprises me as he lays me on the bed, his hands no longer rough with desperate passion but tender with awe. He undresses me slowly, pressing kisses to each inch of skinas it's revealed. When I'm naked beneath him, he pauses, eyes roaming over my body as if seeing it anew.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, palm flattening over my stomach again. "Going to get so round with my baby. So fucking perfect."
He strips quickly, his cock already hard and straining against his stomach, but there's none of his usual urgency. Instead, he stretches out beside me, gathering me against his chest, one large hand continuing to stroke my belly.
"How long?" he asks, pressing kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
"I don't know exactly. Maybe a month? I need to see a doctor."
He nods, his beard tickling my skin. "Tomorrow. I'll take you. Make sure you're both healthy."
Both. The word sends a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. We're a family now. The three of us.
His lips find mine in a kiss that's achingly tender, so different from his usual claiming. His hand slides lower, between my thighs, finding me already wet for him.
"My little girl," he murmurs against my lips, "carrying Daddy's baby. You're everything."
The words—filthy and sweet at once—make me moan, my body responding as it always does to his dominant endearments. But there's something different now, something deeper in the way he touches me, the way he looks at me.
He rolls me gently onto my back, settling between my spread thighs, his cock nudging at my entrance without pushing in. "Tell me if anything hurts," he says, concern furrowing his brow. "Don't want to harm either of you."
The consideration nearly undoes me. "It's okay," I assure him, hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. "We're okay."
He enters me with exquisite slowness, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. When he's fully seated inside me, he pauses, forehead pressed to mine, sharing breath.
"Mine," he whispers, the word holding new meaning now. "Both of you. Mine to protect. Mine to cherish."
"Yours," I agree, tears spilling down my temples into my hair. "We're yours, Daddy."
He begins to move then, setting a gentle rhythm that's nothing like our usual frantic coupling. Each thrust is deliberate, controlled, his body carefully braced above mine to keep his weight off my stomach.
"My sweet baby girl," he praises, kissing away my tears. "Taking such good care of our child. Going to keep you both so safe."
