Page 139 of Gunnar

I slide my hands up his chest, the heat of him burning through his shirt.

He deepens the kiss, one hand sliding into my hair, holding me close.

I slip my hands under his shirt, feeling warm skin and rippling abs.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me onto the bed.

I smile against his mouth.

“Efficient.”

“Yeah.”

I push his shirt up and drag it over his head.

He watches me for a second before dipping his head to my throat again, his mouth warm against my skin.

My fingers slide into his hair.

He stills suddenly.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You’re fertile right now.”

I go still. “I am?”

“Yeah,” he growls. “Very.”

His finger traces slowly down between my breasts.

Heat coils low in my stomach at the look in his eyes.

This is the third time he’s told me.

The first two times, I wasn’t ready. I wanted the bar exam behind me first.

Now it is.

“It would be a winter baby,” I whisper.

He strokes my face gently. “Here in February. I’ll make sure the place is all cozy. Turn your old room into the baby’s room.”

I picture it. Snuggled up indoors, fire glowing in the hearth. Feeding the baby while the snow falls outside—just like when I arrived. Gunnar holding our child in his huge arms.

Emotion rises so fast it catches me off guard.

“I would love that,” I say.

A breath rushes out of him. “Our first cub,” he murmurs.

He lays a hand against my belly. “Growing right here.”

I put my hand over his, imagining my stomach swelling with his young.

“Right here,” I echo.