Greek (Palm South University)

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat, and I blame the damn hormones for the way my eyes instantly water, too.

“We’re having a baby.”

My heart pinches to the size of a penny before exploding into a hot air balloon. “We are. I mean… if… if you want to.”

All emotion leaves his face then, frown back in place. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I just… I understand if you don’t want to be a part of this. We didn’t plan it. I know you’ve been avid about me taking my birth control and being careful. We haven’t even talked about kids and…” I rub my belly next to where his hand still rests. “I can do it on my own, if you—”

I’m swooped out of the tub in the next instant, the words stuck in my throat as water sloshes out of the tub and off of me, soaking the rug and the bathroom floor and all of Brandon’s suit.

“You are fucking mad if you think you’ll ever have to do it alone,” he breathes against my lips before kissing me, punishing and promising all at once. “You’re mine, Ashlei Church. And that little boy is ours.”

“Boy?” I say on a laugh, the release of which seems to deflate my anxiety in one fell swoop. “How do you know if it’s a boy?”

“I just know.”

“Well, I think it’s a girl,” I say as he carries me out of the bathroom and plops me into our sheets, not a care in the world that we’re both soaking wet.

Brandon takes a moment to appreciate my body splayed out on the bed before he lowers down over me, gently, carefully, and starts peppering my stomach with soft, slow kisses.

“Should we make a bet?” he asks between them.

“Only if you want to lose.”

“I think I win either way,” he argues, those kisses trailing up over my breasts, my neck, my jaw, until he’s at my lips. “Because boy or girl, they have you as a mom. And I have you as my wife.”

I can’t help the visible swoon that rolls off me at his words, and he chuckles into my mouth as he kisses me, rolling over to the side a bit so his hand can splay on my stomach once more.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” I whisper, arching a little into his touch as his hand inches down.

“Why does knowing you’re carrying my baby make me want to fuck you so goddamn bad I can hardly breathe?”

My legs squeeze together of their own accord, but Brandon reaches down to grab my thigh and pulls it toward him, spreading me once again.

“Because you love to own me,” I say, biting his lower lip. “In every. Single. Way.”

A growl is affirmation that I’m right, and then Brandon squeezes my thigh before jumping off the bed. His eyes bore into mine as he unfastens his belt, shoves the button of his pants through the slip, and rips the zipper down. He tugs at his tie next, undoing the knot with expert hands as I spread my knees wider for him, one hand palming my breast as the other slips between my legs.

His breathing turns wild, erratic as he watches me, but he doesn’t fumble with his clothes. He takes each layer off with precision and power radiating off him, just like always, until he’s nude and hard and pulsing with need.

He descends on me like a wolf, his mouth crashing into mine before he sits back on his heels, admiring the view of me spread before him. He trails a finger down one of my legs, pulling my ankle to his lips before setting it on his shoulder. He does the same with the other leg, hiking it up high, until my back is flat in the sheets and both ankles are balanced on his shoulders.

I’ve seen Brandon lust for me — ever since that first day in the elevator at Okay, Cool, I’ve seen how badly he desires me. But this… the carnal way his hands grip me, the somehow careful yet relentless way he fills me as I stretch and arch and cry out his name?

This isn’t just want, or need, or dominance.

It’s love.

It’s the kind of love that drives a man mad, that sends soldiers to war, that breaks up continents and rains down hellfire on earth.

It’s the damning, redeeming, torturous and ecstasy-inducing rush he’ll never get enough of, an always-present yearning that will never leave him sated.

But I’m the lucky woman who gets to watch him try.

Brandon makes love to me for the rest of the evening, and well into the night and early morning, until we’re both so sore and weak we can barely move to give ourselves sustenance.

Turns out my fears were unfounded.

Turns out this man of mine is everything I knew he was and more.