Tristan lifts up the sweatshirt and places his hand on my stomach. It’s a warm, gentle gesture, and in that one motion I know everything I need to about how he’s feeling and how he’ll be as a father. But I still find the words slipping out of my mouth. “You’re happy?”
There are tears in his eyes. “I’m over the fucking moon. God, Nicola. Do you have any idea just how much I love you?”
“I have some clue, because it’s just about as much as I love you.”
“Not even close,” he mutters before kissing me again.
With me in his arms, he stands and carries me inside and dumps me on the bed before disappearing to the bathroom for a moment. I sit up and see him quickly washing himself off. “What happened to bending me over the balcony.”
He steps into the room already fully hard again, and he’s smiling. “Oh, that will happen. Without a doubt. But I’m going to need more than that right now. Right now I’m going to take my fucking time and worship every single part of my pregnant wife’s body until she’s screaming in pleasure.”
My hands are still tied inside the sweatshirt, and he helps to free me before stripping the sweatshirt over my head and baring me to him. But before I can even move he’s looping one of the sleeves of the hoodie around my wrist and then pulling the sweatshirt through the slats of the headboard. “I thought you were helping to free me?”
He laughs softly and takes a quick kiss before tying my other wrist. “Not a chance. I want you at my mercy, and I think that you want to be there too.”
I do. There’s no denying it. Relaxing back on the pillows, I watch the way he moves with elegance and grace over me, preparing to worship my body. No matter what happens now, we got lucky finding each other. Not once, but twice. And we’re holding onto what we have and never letting go. “I love you,” I murmur as he licks down my skin.
“And I love you,” he says right before he tastes his favorite part of me, and I can’t think anymore from the pleasure.
* * *