Then he bent his head and kissed her.
It was softer than the kiss in his office, less desperate but no less affecting. His lips moved over hers with careful precision, like he was memorizing her. Learning her.
She melted into him, her hands sliding up to loop around his neck. The angle was awkward with her belly between them, but somehow that made it sweeter. More real.
He tasted like coffee and mint, and when his tongue swept against hers, she made a small sound that had him pulling her closer.
His hands were growing. She could feel it—the subtle shift as Hyde pushed closer to the surface, making him larger, stronger. But he held her like she was made of glass, every touch reverent.
She broke the kiss to murmur against his lips, “I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.” But his arms tightened fractionally, contradicting the words.
“Too bad.” She kissed him again, quick and sweet. “You’re stuck with me.”
He made a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.” She smiled against his mouth. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
For a moment longer he held her, his forehead pressed to hers, breathing her in. Then he stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. His eyes were still glowing faintly green, but his expression had shifted into something that looked almost like determination.
“I should finish your examination.”
The prosaic words were so at odds with the emotion in his eyes that she almost laughed. “Right. Very professional.”
“I’m trying.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
She let him help her back onto the table, hyperaware of how his hands lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. How his eyes tracked her every movement.
The rest of the appointment passed in a haze of professional efficiency undercut by electric awareness. Every time he touched her, her pulse jumped. Every time their eyes met, something hot and sweet sparked between them. By the time he finished and handed her the printout of the baby’s latest measurements, she felt like she’d run a marathon.
“Everything looks good,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “The baby’s developing right on schedule.”
“Good.” She took the paper, their fingers brushing. “Thank you.”
“Chloe.” He stopped her before she could leave, his hand catching her wrist. “I meant what I said about the danger.”
“I know.”
“But I also—” He stopped, seeming to struggle with the words. “I want to try. If you’re willing to be patient. To let me figure out how to do this without hurting you.”
Hope bloomed warm in her chest. “I can be patient.”
“And if I ask you to trust me? Even when I’m being impossible?”
“I already do.” She turned her hand in his grip, threading their fingers together. “Even when you’re being impossible.”
His thumb stroked over her knuckles, a small gesture that sent warmth flooding through her. “I should let you go.”
“You should.” But neither of them moved.
Finally, she squeezed his hand once and stepped away. “I’ll see you at my next appointment?”
“Yes. And—” He hesitated. “Maybe before then. If you’d like.”
The shy hopefulness in his voice made her smile. “I’d like that.”
She left the clinic feeling lighter than she had in days.
