She came hard, back arching, mouth open in a silent scream before the sound ripped free—raw, broken. Her grip on myshoulders tightened as she rode it out, gasping, sobbing, trembling.
I didn’t stop—not until she was done. Only when she collapsed against my chest, trembling and spent, did I slow my hand and pull back.
She kissed me, breath still shallow, lips hot and wet, and I kissed her back like she was air.
My girl. Mine.
37
The Dream
—Maksym—
Five months later
The house we moved into wasn’t an estate—but it wasn’t modest either. Three stories of sharp lines, dark glass, concrete and steel. Modern. Controlled. Expensive without showing off.
A gated driveway, discreet cameras, reinforced doors. From the outside it looked clean and quiet. From the inside, it was built like a fortress.
The top floor belonged to us—floor-to-ceiling windows, our bedroom facing the trees. Across the hall waited the nursery for our son, Anton. Warm light, pale wood, a crib already setin place. One wing was set aside for her mother. There were guest rooms too—and rooms for the men who rotated security, keeping constant watch over the property and our family.
It wasn’t a palace.
But it fit a Pakhan.
The backyard opened into a stretch of untamed woods, the trees dense and watchful. Above them, the sky was still soft with early autumn warmth, carrying the faint sweetness of a fading summer.
Kira and her mother were lounging on two long chairs by the patio. Irina was absorbed in a well-worn paperback, glasses perched on her nose. Kira had one arm slung over her round belly, sun-kissed skin glowing in the soft light as she tilted her head back to catch the warmth.
I was manning the grill, the scent of sizzling meat rising around me, a cold beer in hand. I glanced over at them and couldn’t stop the grin from tugging at my mouth. This was peace. My kind of heaven.
I put down the tongs and wandered over, dropping to one knee beside her. I pressed a kiss to her taut stomach. “What’s Anton eating today, huh?”
Kira opened one eye lazily. “Your massive child is still inside me, so I decide what he eats. And right now? I want a steak the size of your ego.”
“Your wish, my queen,” I said, mock bowing before getting back to the grill.
She huffed a laugh as I walked away.
I took a sip of my beer, watching the smoke curl upward in lazy spirals, when I felt her behind me.
“Sit down before I carry you there myself,”I muttered, checking on her over my shoulder.
She attempted to wrap her arms around me from behind, but her belly got in the way. “I’m bored. And you smell good.”
“That’s because I’m cooking your steak dreams into reality.”
She laughed, and then suddenly—
“Oh.”
I spun around. “What?”
Her eyes went wide. She was looking down at her legs.
“I swear I’m not peeing myself,” she said quickly, her voice edged with panic and disbelief.
“Did your water just break?”
