"I didn't," she said. "I let myself think about it."
I lifted my head.
She was looking at me, flushed and honest. "I thought about it a lot, actually. Being yours that way." A beat. "Is that?—"
“Don’t ever apologize,” I interrupted. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, Haven Sinclair. Perfect for me. Perfect and forward and…” My tongue flicked out over the peak of her breast, and she moaned. “Bad, sometimes, in this way I love.”
"Tell me," I said against her skin. "What you thought about."
"Wyatt—"
"Tell me." I dragged my tongue up the curve of her breast. "What did you imagine?"
She was quiet for a second. I could feel her heartbeat under my lips.
"You," she said. "Just—knowing it was yours. Knowing you'd—" She stopped. "That you'd put it there on purpose. That you wanted it."
I groaned against her skin.
"I do," I said. "God, Haven, I do." I kissed up her throat, her jaw, found her mouth. "Wanted to fill you up since the first night. Had to keep stoppin' myself."
She shivered. "Why did you?"
"Because I was tryin' to do the right thing." I pulled back and looked at her. "Wasn't thinkin' straight. Couldn't think straight around you, couldn't—" I pressed my hand flat on her belly again, deliberate. "How's it feel? Knowin' I'm already in there?"
Her breath came out unsteady. "Like—like I got what I wanted." She looked up at me, completely honest, no armor left. "Like you're mine."
"I am," I said. "Been yours. Didn't know how to say it."
I reached down and pulled her panties off, worked them down her hips. She helped, lifting for me, and then she was bare underneath me in the moonlight and I took a minute just to look at her.
"You have no idea," I said.
"Tell me."
"Perfect," I said. "Every part of you. And in a few months—" I traced the soft curve of her stomach with one flat palm. "This is gonna be round. Full." My fingers drifted between her thighs and she sucked in a breath as I pressed them flat against her clit. "Full of my baby and still wanting me, I'd bet."
"Yes," she breathed. "God, yes."
"Yeah?" I pressed two fingers against her entrance, felt how wet she already was, and she grabbed my wrist. Not to stop me. "Gonna want me even then?"
"Always," she said. "Always wanted you. Never stopped."
I pressed inside her with my fingers and she arched clean off the mattress.
"Good girl," I murmured. "There she is."
"Wyatt—" Breathless. "I need you. I don't want your fingers, I want?—"
"I know what you want."
"Then—"
"Not yet." I worked her slow, watching her face, her lips parted, eyes dark. "Want to hear you say it first. Want to hear you say what you want."
She made a frustrated sound that I felt in my spine.
"You," she gritted out. "Inside me. No condom, nothing between us, I want to feel you—" She grabbed my shoulder. "I want you to come inside me. I want—" Her voice dropped. "I want you to fill me up. Again. Like you already did."
