Page 82 of East

Sloane moves the wand again. “Okay… so, there’s one strong heartbeat…” she says, pausing. Then, a slow, wicked grin spreads across her face. “And… there’s the other one.”

I blink. “The other one?”

“Yep,” she says, tapping the screen. “Congrats, you two. You’re overachievers. It’s twins.”

East’s head whips toward her, his eyes wide with a mixture of pure joy and abject terror. “Two?” he chokes out. “We need a bigger bike.”

I can’t stop laughing. It’s a sound of pure, delirious happiness. Twins.

Later, as Sloane is cleaning up, I’m still buzzing. “Sloane,” I say, my voice full of a giddy, hopeful energy. “When do you think you and Knox… you know?”

The warmth in the room vanishes. Sloane freezes, her back to me, her shoulders going rigid. Her smile is gone when she turns around, replaced by something brittle and practiced. “We’re… we’re just really happy for you guys,” she says, her voice a little too bright as she gets very busy putting away her supplies, refusing to meet my eyes. The topic of Knox, I realize with a jolt, is still a landmine. I change the subject, but the strange, sad silence she leaves behind lingers in the air.

East

Thatnight,Iholdher in my arms, and I still can’t quite believe it. Two. Two heartbeats. Two tiny prospects on the way. I watch her sleep. Her face is soft in the moonlight, one hand resting protectively on her stomach, and a wave of love so fierce, so powerful, washes over me it’s a physical thing.

She’s my home. My future. She’s my entire world, sleeping in my arms.

Darla stirs, her eyes fluttering open with a soft, sleepy smile on her face. “Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey, princess,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. My hand finds hers, lacing our fingers together over her stomach. Over our children.

“I love you,” she says, her voice full of a quiet, certain peace.

“I love you, too.” My voice is rough with an emotion so profound it almost chokes me.

I make love to her then. My lips and hands are a testament to my adoration, a prayer spoken against her skin. I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, the faint bruise on her cheek that’s finally fading. I kiss the pulse point in her throat, feeling her heart hammer a steady, trusting beat against my mouth. She sighs, a sound of pure, boneless contentment, her hands sliding from my shoulders to tangle in my hair, her fingers massaging my scalp in a way that makes my body hum. I crave this closeness, this quiet, unguarded offering of herself.

My hand glides down her side, mapping the gentle swell of her belly.Our family starts right here. In you.The thought is a fierce, protective roar in my soul. I press a kiss to the soft skin there, a silent promise to the two tiny lives we’ve created. Darla’s hand comes to rest over mine, her fingers lacing with mine on her stomach. Her eyes, when they open and find mine in the dim light, are full of a deep, trusting love that humbles me.

“East,” she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and want.

That’s all the invitation I need. I move over her, and her legs part for me, a silent, trusting welcome. I look down at her, at the soft, almost imperceptible swell of her stomach. My family. The thought makes my chest seize with a possessive, protective love that is almost painful.

I guide my cock to her entrance. Her pussy is already slick and hot, her body ready for me, welcoming me. I enter her with an agonizing slowness that feels like a vow. She gasps, her back arching, her hips lifting to meet me, her inner muscles clenching around me. “God, East,” she whispers. I don’t answer, just push deeper, inch by deliberate inch, until I am buried to the hilt, stretching her, filling her completely. She takes me, her body welcoming mine with a sigh of pure contentment.

I stay buried deep for a long moment, just feeling her around me, our bodies flush, our hearts beating in a matched, steady rhythm. My hands don’t go to her hips or her breasts. They go right to her belly, cradling her, my thumbs stroking the soft skin. My mind is full of the two tiny lives we’ve created, safe inside her.

“You feel so good,” I murmur, my voice thick, my lips brushing her temple. “You’re so perfect. You’re carrying my babies, Darla. You’re carrying our whole world.”

A tear escapes the corner of her eye and tracks into her hair. I kiss it away, tasting the salt of her happy tears. I move, my thrusts slow, deep, and impossibly gentle in a rhythm of pure worship. This isn’t about a frantic release; it’s about drawing this out, about savoring every second. Her eyes are locked on mine, and I see her love, her trust, her complete surrender. She is completely, utterly mine, and I am hers. Her hands trace the ink on my arms, her touch a feather-light caress that sets my skin on fire. With every slow, deep thrust, I feel her pussy clench and pulse around my cock, a perfect, hot, velvet embrace.

I feel her shatter, her breath catching on a sob, her inner walls tightening around me in a series of unbelievable, pulsing waves. “That’s it, princess,” I groan, my control shredding. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.” Her orgasm washes over her. It’s a quiet, shuddering release that is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The sight of her, the feel of her pussy milking me, is my undoing. I can’t hold back. I shatter with her, a deep, pulsing release that feels like it’s coming from my very soul. It’s not a roar; it’s a quiet, shared release. A perfect, peaceful culmination.

Afterward, I don’t pull out. I collapse on top of her, my weight a comforting, sated thing. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in—the scent of her, of us, of sex and love and a future. My cock is still buried deep inside her, and I can feel the last, faint pulses of her climax. I hold her, my arms wrapped around her,my hands still protectively covering her stomach. The promise I made to Declan all those years ago has been fulfilled in a way I never could have imagined. I’m not just taking care of her.

We’re building a life. And it’s a masterpiece.