Page 77 of Secret Heir

We sit like that for a moment, breathing the same air, hands joined over the life we created.

Then I kiss her.

It’s different from our usual kisses—no anger, no desperation. Just soft and slow and sweet. She makes a small sound and opens for me, her hands coming up to cup my face.

I ease her back against the pillows, careful of her stomach, and settle between her thighs. The kiss deepens, but it’s still gentle. I’m trying to tell her with my mouth all the things I can’t seem to say with words.

I love you. I never stopped loving you. You’re everything.

I strip away her t-shirt slowly, revealing her body inch by inch. Every change the pregnancy has brought feels like a gift I don’t deserve. Her breasts are heavier in my hands, the nipples darker and more sensitive. The gentle curve of her stomach is more pronounced lying down, a visible swell that makes something fierce and possessive rise in my chest.

My child. Our child. Growing inside her.

Her skin is warm and soft under my hands, and I map every new curve with my fingers, my lips, committing it all to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. “So fucking beautiful.”

“I’m getting bigger.” But there’s no real complaint in her voice, just a hint of self-consciousness.

“You’re carrying our child. Growing our baby.” I press a kiss to her stomach, right where our child is nestled safe inside her. “There’s nothing more beautiful than that. Nothing in the world.”

I take my time with her. This isn’t about the desperate release we usually seek from each other, isn't about channeling rage into passion. This is about showing her—proving to her—that this means something. That she means something.

That she means everything.

I kiss every inch of skin I can reach. The curve of her neck where her pulse flutters wild beneath my lips. The hollow of her throat. The valley between her breasts. I take one nipple gently into my mouth and she gasps, her hands coming up to tangle in my hair.

“Maksim.” My name is breathless and needy and it goes straight to my cock.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her skin. “I’ve got you, moya krasavitsa.”

I savor the new curves of her body with my mouth. The swell of her breasts. The curve of her hip. The soft skin of her inner thigh. She’s trembling beneath me, her breath coming in short gasps, and I’ve barely touched her.

“Please.” Her voice is small, desperate. “Maksim, please.”

“Not yet,” I whisper against her, pressing a kiss just below her ear. “Let me have this. Let me take my time with you.”

I kiss my way down her body slowly. Her pulse is racing as my tongue traces her neck. My tongue traces the delicate line of her collar bone. She gasps, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders.

“Relax,” I softly laugh. “We have all night. I’m not rushing this.”

I continue my exploration, kissing back to her breasts because I can’t help myself. I take another nipple into my mouth and she arches off the bed with a sharp inhale.

“Oh my god⁠—”

“Too much?” I gentle my touch immediately, switching to soft kisses instead.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “No.” Her voice is strangled, hair already tangled around her face. “Just... different. More sensitive.”

“I’ll be careful.” I lavish attention on her breasts, learning what she can handle now and what makes her moan versus what makes her wince. When I’ve savored every inch, I move lower to the sensitive spot just below her ribs that always made her squirm. I kiss it now, and she moans, her stomach muscles fluttering beneath my lips.

Smiling, I move lower still, to the gentle swell of her stomach. I pause there, pressing kisses across the curve where our child is growing. The skin is taut and warm, and beneath my lips I can almost imagine I feel the life pulsing there.

“You’re carrying my child,” I say against her skin, the wonder of it still hitting me in waves. My hand spreads across her stomach, protective and possessive. “My baby is growing right here. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“Tell me.” Her voice is breathless, her fingers threading through my hair.

“Awed.” I press another kiss to her stomach. “Terrified. Grateful. So fucking grateful that you’re giving me this gift.” I look up at her, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know you didn’t choose this. But I’m going to spend every day proving that I can be worthy of you. Of both of you.”