“You’re so warm,” she murmured. “Like you’re burning up.”
“Hyde’s close.” He forced the words out. “Can you feel him?”
“Yes.” Her hands slid higher, fingers tracing his collarbones. “Does it bother you?”
“I don’t know.” Honest answer. His skin felt too tight, his muscles shifting under her touch in ways that weren’t entirely human. “I’m trying not to panic.”
“Then don’t think.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his chest, right over his racing heart. “Just feel.”
His hands clenched on her hips. Every touch sent heat spiraling through him—human desire tangled with Hyde’s possessive hunger.
Ours,Hyde growled.Claim. Mark. Keep.
But beneath the primal demand was something softer. A tenderness that he hadn’t expected. Hyde wanted to cherish her. Protect her. Worship her. The same things he wanted. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.
He kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, slow kisses meant to savor rather than consume, and she melted against him with a sigh.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered.
“Never.” The word came out rougher than intended. “I’m sorry I made you think that. Sorry I was too afraid to?—”
She kissed him quiet. “No more apologies. Not tonight.”
He nodded and focused on touching her, learning her. His hands mapped her shoulders, her arms, the curve of her waist with careful touches that made her shiver and arch into him. When he helped her out of the camisole, reverence flooded him.
She was magnificent. All soft curves and new life, glowing in the firelight.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m huge.”
“You’re perfect.” He kissed her shoulder, her throat, the swell of her breast. “Absolutely perfect.”
Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. Her pulse raced under his lips—steady proof of life and trust. He took his time exploring her, and let himself sink into sensation without fear. His hands grew larger as Hyde pressed closer, his fingers thickening and his nails darkening.
She didn’t flinch, just stroked the changed hands and guided them where she wanted them.
“I love your hands,” she said. “Both versions.”
His throat tightened. “You’re not afraid.”
“I have no reason to be.”
“Most people would be.”
She tilted his face up to meet her eyes. “I’m not most people. And I know that you—both versions of you—would never hurt me.”
The absolute certainty in her voice undid him. He kissed her with all the emotion he couldn’t speak. Gratitude and wonder and love tangled together. She responded with equal intensity, pulling him closer despite the awkwardness of her belly.
They shed the rest of their clothes slowly. His hands shook as he helped her out of her leggings, awed by her trust. She lay back on the blankets, firelight painting her skin gold. One hand rested on her belly, protective even now.
“Are you sure?” He had to ask one more time. “We can stop if?—”
“Victor.” She reached for him. “I want this. I want you. Please.”
The please broke him.
He covered her body with his, careful not to put weight on her belly. His hands bracketed her face as he kissed her deep and slow. Her legs parted to accommodate him and his breath stuttered. So close. She was so close and warm and willing. Hyde surged but didn’t take over. Instead he seemed content to share—to experience everything without demanding control.
