Page 76 of Fight from the Heart

Never give them power over you. You are not the beast. Do not let it become you.

The lines run up and down, and I have to turn my head to clearly read them. I traced each line, feeling Jacob’s eyes on my action.

“My father punched me there. It gave new meaning to sucker punch to the gut. That night, I lost my appendix.”

“Jesus,” I whisper, lowering to kiss along the lines.

The shower has turned rather serious, and my heart hurts for all his hurts. I reach for his body wash, pour a generous helping into my hand, and lather up before massaging the liquid soap over his skin. I swipe up his chest and over his shoulders, cascading down his arms to his wrists. I press a kiss to one shoulder over the soapiness and step around to his back. Rubbing in small circles, I coat the firm muscles over his shoulder blades, pressing gently over his inked scar. My hands stretch around his waist and lower for something long and hard.

“What are you doing, my little wood nymph?” He chuckles, and I do too as it’s been a while since he’s called me that.

“Remind me what that story is again,” I tease as I stroke over his thickness.

“Once upon a time, there was a tempting wood nymph named Syringa. The god Pan noticed her and chased her into the woods, lusting after her.” One of Jacob’s hands goes to the tile before him. The other lowers for my wrist while I squeeze him. “He wanted the beautiful creature more than he’d ever wanted anything.” His voice drops as I tug at him. “One myth is, she hid in the form of a lilac bush. Pan discovered where she was, or rather what she’d done, and he carved her into a flute that he would carry with him at all times.”

Continuing to stroke Jacob, I press my lips to his shoulder blade. His hand squeezes my wrist.

“If you ask me, by carving her into an instrument, he just wanted to put his lips on her and make her sing all day long.” I don’t miss the euphemism as he chuckles. I tug harder at him, slipping faster down his length with the aid of the soapy wash.

“Lilac, may I be so bold as to ask if I can make love to you again?”

His words startle me, and I still my movements.

“I’ll never have enough of you. You’ve carved yourself into my skin.” Turning to face me, he presses me back to the tile. His mouth nips and sucks at my wet skin as a hand slides down my body, taking its time to coast over my breasts and stopping to circle a nipple. I hum at the attention he pays the achy swells, arching my back as he cups one and lowers to suck at the other.

“Are you my instrument? Can I play you? I want to make you sing.”

While his tongue laves at the peaked nub, his fingers lower between my thighs. My head tips back as he strokes over me, ready and eager to go again with him.

“I’d like to keep you with me, Lilac.”

My breath catches. I want to believe him. I want to believe that as good as we are, we can stay that way.

“Careful, Jacob. That sounds like commitment. Pan was only in lust with his lilac.”

Jacob lifts his head from watching his fingers play me. His molten eyes stare into mine.

“What if it’s love?”

I swallow around the lump forming in my throat. My eyes hold his, but my body vibrates.

Can I believe this? Can it be?

“You don’t believe in love,” I remind him, my voice croaking as fingers enter me.

“Maybe you’ve made me a believer.” His mouth crashes to mine as his fingers work faster. My body responds, rocking into his palm.

Bending at the knees, he lines himself up and thrusts upward. Hands slip beneath my thighs, lifting me with the wall at my back.

“I’m too heavy,” I mumble against his mouth.

“You’re luscious.”

I’m pregnant.

“You’re beautiful,” he says around another kiss.

And pregnant.