The words barely leave my mouth before I lean in.
My hands are already there, spread over the curve of her stomach, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her dress, the unmistakable proof of what’s inside her.
Then I kiss her.
Slow at first. Like I’m reminding myself she’s really here.
Her mouth meets mine instantly, familiar in a way that makes something tighten in my chest. Six months disappear the second she touches me. The distance. The waiting. All of it.
She makes a soft sound against my lips and melts closer. One hand slides up to my face, her fingers brushing along my jaw.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, letting some of the things I haven’t been able to say find their way through instead.
For a moment, everything else falls away.
There’s only Charlotte.
Only us.
When I pull back, there’s color in her cheeks, and her breathing is uneven.
“Do you want to see our house?” she asks. “I could show you the bedroom first.”
A laugh escapes me.
“The only room I want to see right now is the bedroom.”
She takes my hand and leads me down the hall.
The bedroom is at the far end of the cottage. I barely register anything on the way.
The tour can wait.
The second we step inside, she turns toward me, and I close the distance between us. My mouth finds hers again before either of us can say a word.
Her hands are already on my shirt, tugging it free, and she pulls it over my head.
Then I reach for her dress, and she stills.
“Dane...” Her eyes drop. “I look very different from the last time you saw me naked.”
For a moment, I just look at her.
At the woman I love.
At the life growing beneath her heart.
“Charlotte,” I say quietly. “Your body is beautiful.”
Emotion flickers across her face.
“It looks exactly like it should. Like the body of a woman carrying our child.”
A small smile pulls at her mouth.
“Eyes up here, Charlotte.”
There’s a beat. Then she lifts her gaze, slowly at first, before finally meeting mine and holding it.
