Page 109 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing, ragged and syncopated. Then he huffs a soft, breathless chuckle, and a smile touches his lips as he looks down at me.

“Hey, princess.”

I smile up at him, hazy and spent. “Hey, mean King.”

“Mean King?” He snorts, not moving.

“I’m exhausted,” I sigh, my voice hoarse. “I’m allowed to have incoherent clapbacks.”

He chuckles again, soft and low, and finally slips out of me. I wince at the loss, the sudden empty ache, but then he’s gathering me into his arms, lifting me like I weigh nothing. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him—sweat and sex and something uniquely Killian.

He carries me down the hall toward the master suite. The sound of running water greets us, and the scent of lavender fills the air as we enter the bedroom. The oversized tub is filling, steam curling off the surface. Asher steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water glistening on his chest. He nods at Killian, a silent exchange passing between them, then grabs another towel to dry his hair.

Maddox is in the shower now, the glass door fogged, his silhouette moving behind it. He turns as we enter, watches us through the haze, and gives a slow, satisfied smirk before ducking his head under the spray.

Killian lowers us into the tub. The water is warm, not hot, and I know why. My hand drifts to my lower stomach as I settle back against his chest. His arms come around me, holding me close, his chin resting atop my head.

“Love you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

Our fingers find each other under the water, entwining. I lift our joined hands, guide them to cradle the curve of my belly beneath the surface. His breath hitches. He stills.

I tilt my head to look up at him, my cheek brushing his jaw. “Love you too.”

He turns his face, our lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s not about heat now. It’s about promise. About the life growing between us. About the four of us, tangled up in ways we’re still learning.

He rests his forehead against mine. “We’re having a baby.”

I smile. “We are.”

Asher finishes drying off, drapes his towel over a nearby chair, and comes to kneel beside the tub. He reaches in, brushes a wet curl from my cheek. “Feeling okay, mon coeur?”

I nod, leaning into his touch. “Better than okay.”

Maddox steps out of the shower, dripping, and grabs a towel. He saunters over, crouching on my other side. His knuckles brush my shoulder. “Look at you. All soft and sated.”

I reach for his hand, lace my fingers through his. “You helped.”

He smirks. “Damn right I did.”

Killian’s arms tighten around me. “We’re not ever letting you go.”

The words hang in the steam-filled air, a vow. Asher’s thumb strokes my cheek. Maddox presses a kiss to my knuckles. And Killian holds me, solid and sure, in the warm, lavender-scented water.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

40

HARPER

The paper on the exam table crinkles every single time I shift my weight, which means I’ve crinkled it approximately four hundred times in the last ten minutes because I cannot stop moving, and the paper knows it and is judging me.

All three of them are in here. I didn’t plan for all three of them to be in here. I planned for Asher to come because Asher is calm and quiet and would hold my hand without making it weird, and then Maddox appeared in the corridor outside my suite saying he was coming too, and then Killian was already in the car when we got to it, jacket on, expression indicating he would not be entertaining a discussion about this.

So all three of them are in here. In a room that was already not very large.

Asher’s standing next to me with his arms crossed, close enough that his sleeve is touching my shoulder. Maddox has found the only other chair in the room and claimed it like territory, leaning back with his ankle crossed over his knee like we’re waiting for a restaurant table instead of a pregnancy confirmation. Killian is standing at the window with his hands in his pockets looking out at the car park, which is the least interesting view available to any human being on this entire planet, and I’m fairly sure he’s not actually looking at it.

I’ve been doing that thing where I notice every single thing about a room to avoid thinking about the one thing I’m supposed to be thinking about. Ceiling tiles. Fourteen. The poster about hand hygiene has a small crinkle in the lower left corner. The blood pressure cuff on the wall is blue.