AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I missed my wife," he murmurs against my lips, the words mingling with warmth and the faint scent of his cologne.
He pulls back just enough to look at me as his hands find their way to my belly. "How's our little one today?"
I let out a sigh of frustration. "Our little one seems to be claiming more real estate by the minute. I can barely manage to get up and down from this couch without a crane," I reply. "Plus, these cravings have to stop. I ate peanut butter with peppermint today. Eww."
Damien's chuckle is warm, and the sound echoes in the quiet room. His eyes shine with a mix of love and mischief. A shriek escapes me as he scoops me up from the couch effortlessly as if my expanded form weighs next to nothing.
"What are you doing?" I ask as a giggle bubbles from my throat.
He plants a tender kiss on my nose, and there's a glint in his eyes, a mix of playfulness and desire.
"I'm taking my wife upstairs," he whispers with a mischievous warmth. "I've got a feeling that you had another craving that hasn't been satisfied yet."
His words send a liquid thrill through my veins. My skin tingles from the heat of his gaze. His hands, strong and assured, remind me of the passion we've managed to keep going. Despite the belly that has redrawn the contours of my body, the intimacy between us has only grown more profound, with Damien discovering ways to keep the physical connection as fervent as before. The anticipation of his touch, the thought of him moving inside me, lights a fire in my belly.
My eyes lock with his. "Lead the way."
I curl up against Damien on our bed with my head resting in the nook of his arm. His fingers trace idle patterns on my back as we’re both satisfied with our recent lovemaking.
"I love you, Isabella," he says softly.
"I love you too, Damien," I whisper back.
Our past, with its scars and ghosts, may never be entirely behind us, but ahead lies a future. A canvas ripe for our creation. At this moment, that's all we need. Damien's steady heartbeat is a rhythmic promise against my ear, lulling me into a sense of peace. The soft rise and fall of his chest are a reminder of life's simple continuities.
The gentle ebb and flow that whispers of normalcy and warmth. A glaring contrast to the wild tides we've weathered together. As I drift into sleep, cradled in the love that's become my sanctuary, I can't help but smile. Despite all the odds, I am genuinely happy with how my life has turned out. Sharp pains shoot through me, unexpected and brutal, dragging me from the depths of sleep.
"Damien," I gasp as I nudge him frantically.
He just mumbles, lost in whatever dream has him in its grip.
"Damien!" I finally yell, punching his shoulder with more force than I intended to.
He bolts upright, suddenly wide awake with his weapon drawn in seconds. "What's wrong?" he asks, his sleep-addled brain struggling to catch up.
"Put that away. It's time," I manage to breathe out, the words a cue that sets him into motion like nothing else could.
Damien puts his weapon away and leaps from the bed. He scrambles around, snatching the baby bag with one hand and my hospital bag with the other, and somehow, his own bag is slung across his shoulder. Each motion is frenzied and a little chaotic. Meanwhile, pain grips me again, and I follow behind him as best I can, pacing my breaths with each step calculated against the waves of contractions.
He's a blur, a frantic shadow stumbling down the stairs as he rushes to the car. He’s a ball of nerves punctuated by the jangle of keys and the slam of our front door. I hear the engine rev to life, and as the car roars away, I'm still on the steps of the staircase.
"Oh, Damien, you silly man," I sigh, half in exasperation, half in affection.
Moments later, tires screech and Damien bursts through the door again, remorse painting his handsome features.
"Baby, I'm so sorry I left without you," he breathes out, a mix of apology and relief.
I can't help but smile. His love and fervor in these moments erase any irritation of being momentarily forgotten. Taking his extended hand, we walk to the car together. To the world, Damien might be a figure to fear, a demon cloaked in darkness, but to me, he's an unrivaled source of strength and tenderness. An unfailing soft teddy bear when it matters most.
The world outside blurs as Damien speeds towards the hospital and each surge of pain knits my brows tighter.
"Damien, slow down," I pant, but he's riding the gas pedal like our baby has a timer.
"Okay, baby," is all he says, his eyes steady on the road while his hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
Slumped in the passenger seat, my back arches with another contraction. "God, I'm never doing this again, Damien. You and your lethal sperm are staying away from me!"
The words are half-growl, half-grunt, and I'm only half-joking.
