Page 46 of My Girl to Take

I turn to find him watching me with that same look he’s had all day, like he still can’t quite believe this is real.

“I’m happy,” I admit.

His expression warms. “Good,” he murmurs, stepping closer.

My heart picks up slightly as he reaches me. He brushes his hand gently along my arm, and I lean into it without thinking.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say softly.

He studies me for a second. “You sound serious.”

“I am.”

His brows pull together slightly, concern flickering briefly before I take his hand and guide it down gently. I place it against my stomach, my pulse quickening as I hold it there.

Understanding doesn’t hit him immediately. Then it does. And his expression changes.

“Kiera…” he breathes.

I nod, a small, emotional smile forming. My eyes sting. “We’re having a baby.”

Silence

Then he laughs softly. Not out of disbelief. But relief. Joy. Awe. His hand tightens around mine, his gaze dropping for a second before lifting back to mine. His eyes go softer than I have ever seen them.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

He pulls me into him, holding me tightly. He presses his face briefly into my hair as he exhales deeply, like the weight of everything we’ve been through has finally settled into something beautiful.

“This is everything,” he murmurs.

Tears threaten to spill. Because it is. It really is.

He pulls back just enough to look at me again, his hand still resting where I placed it. His blue eyes hold mine in a way that makes my heart swell.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” I whisper.

The kiss that follows is deep and unhurried.

He lifts me without breaking the kiss, his hands strong and sure beneath my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist, my wedding dress bunched between us, the fabric rustling as he carries me toward the bed.

He lowers me slowly, his mouth still on mine. I reach for him, my fingers finding the buttons of his shirt, but he catches my wrists.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, intense.

“Hands above your head.”

I hesitate, my pulse jumping, and he raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze that sends heat pooling.

“Now, wife.”

The word hits me like a physical touch, possessive and final and exactly what I want.

I lift my arms slowly, crossing my wrists above my head on the pillows, and he makes a sound of approval, low and guttural. He doesn't reach for anything to bind me. He doesn’t need to. He simply wraps one large hand around both my wrists, pinning them there, his grip firm and unyielding.