Page 133 of Branded

“Occupational habit.” He stands, slow, careful with me the way he’s been careful with me for months now, and his hands slide up to my shoulders and ease the straps of my dress down. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to.” His mouth finds my throat. “I’ve wanted to all night. Watching you run that desk, handling that idiot with the suite, pregnant and glowing and completely unbothered. I had to sit through an entire dinner pretending I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what?”

“You.” His teeth graze my earlobe. “Just you. The way you are now.”

I laugh, low, and let my head fall back as his mouth moves down my neck. “I’m the size of a house, Sebastian.”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He says it flatly. “Let me show you.”

He undresses me slowly, he kneels to ease my dress past my hips and presses his mouth to the side of my stomach, to my hip, to the stretch marks I used to be self-conscious about and have stopped caring about because of exactly this, the way he touches them like they’re something he’s proud of.

“You’re staring,” I say.

“I’m allowed.” He reaches over and taps the contract on the counter.

“That’s null and void,” I say and laugh.

“I had Caroline change the terms. The duration is now a lifetime.” He stands, finally, and pulls his own shirt over his head, and I get my hands on his chest the way I always do, tracing the brand over his heart out of habit now more than anything else. “Bed.”

“Bossy.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” I sigh and let him pull me into the room.

He helps me down onto the bed because my balance isn’t what it used to be and my body doesn’t love sudden movements. Once I’m settled, he just looks at me for a moment, propped on the pillows, seven months pregnant, completely bare in front of him, and something moves across his face that’s somewhere between hunger and something much quieter.

“On your side,” he says. “It’s easier for you.”

He climbs in behind me, easing me back against his chest, one arm sliding under my head, the other coming around to rest on the curve of my stomach. “I want this to feel good. All of it.”

“It always feels good with you.”

His hand moves slowly down from my belly, over my hip, between my thighs, and I’m already wet by the time his fingers get there because two years in, he still has this effect, instant and completely out of my control. He traces slow circles against my clit, unhurried, and presses his mouth to the back of my shoulder.

“Sebastian—” I moan.

“I’m right here.” His voice is low against my ear. “Not going anywhere.”

He works me slowly, and I press back against him and feel him hard against my lower back and roll my hips just to hear him groan. His fingers slide inside me, slow and deep, curling in exactly the way he figured out very early on makes me come undone, and my breath starts coming faster.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you.”

I come around his fingers with a soft, broken sound, my body curling around him, and he works me through it with his palm flat against my belly like he’s soothing both of us at once.

“Get inside me, I don’t want to have to ask twice.”

“Now who’s being bossy?” He laughs against my neck and shifts behind me, lining himself up, one hand guiding himself to my entrance while the other stays anchored on my stomach.

“Tell me if anything’s uncomfortable,” he says.

“Sebastian.”

“I mean it.”