Heat pools in my chest. He slides his thumb softly across the curve of my breast, just enough to feel the warmth there, as more droplets begin to appear. He grabs two nursing pads we keep a stock of, among other lactation items that are on top of both nightstands so either one of us can get whatever I need as my breasts continue to produce more and more milk.
“You’re responding exactly like a bonded woman,” he says softly. “Your oxytocin spikes around me. Your lactation started early because you feel safe with me. You feel secure enough to learn more about our relationship dynamics.”
A shiver rolls through me.
“This,” he continues, thumb brushing lightly where more drops appear, “is your body telling both of us that this is permanent.”
I gasp. “Permanent?”
“Yes.” His mouth grazes my ear. “You are not doing this alone. Not the lactation. Not this relationship. There's nothing else in life that matters.”
Tears sting my eyes.
"And," he adds, his voice a rough whisper, "I didn't ask you to move in out of obligation. I asked because I want you in my home, in my bed, and in my arms full-time.”
“You do?” I breathe.
“Yes.”
He lowers me gently to the mattress, his body covering mine, not demanding, only anchoring.
“When your body began to give,” he murmurs, “I knew you were ready to receive.”
The words hit like heat blooming inside me.
“I’m not rushing you,” he whispers against my neck. “I’m meeting you where you already are.”
My breath trembles. “I still feel scared.”
“That’s fine,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Fear means it matters. But I will not let fear make your choices.”
I blink up at him. “So what now?”
“Now,” he says softly, “you lie here and let me take care of you.”
His hands glide up my sides, slow and reverent. “And when you’re ready…”
“Yes?” I whisper.
His smile is small, aching, and certain.
“I’ll have all your items moved in here before you can blink those lovely little eyes of yours,” he whispers. "You have provided me with all the information I require to know that you are my one and only.”
I exhale, long and shaking. He pulls me fully into his chest, stroking my hair until my breath evens.
“Erik?” I whisper loudly.
“Yes.”
“I want to want this, all of this, with you.”
His arms tighten around me. “Then we’re already halfway there, little one.”
ERIK
She falls asleep on my chest, breathing evenly in phases. She has a slight tremble in her body, and her hands instinctively tighten on my shirt, as if anticipating a force that could pull her away. Then release. Warm and yielding, she rolls limply against me, cheek pillowed over my heart.
She hasn’t slept like this in days. It changed when her milk went from drops to a substance. Overnight, things went from possible to actual. Now her breasts twitch painfully if she goes too long between sessions. Demand built up faster than we had anticipated. Dr. Madsen had chuckled at her during their last visit, congratulating her body on how well it was reacting to the induction protocol, but reaction requires sacrifice, as we’re learning, and in her case, sleep.
