“It’s okay. All that matters is that we’re here now.” I snake my arms around Isaac’s neck at the same time he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist and he carries me out of the attic and down the stairs, to the master bedroom.
He lays me out on the center of the bed and removes my clothes, piece by piece, until I’m in only a small pair of cheeky maternity underwear he bought for me.
“Your turn,” I demand, nodding toward his pants. He reaches into his pocket and drags out his phone and keys, setting them on the nightstand before he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his muscular thighs and leaving him in only his boxers.
He turns his attention back to me, and his heated gaze rakes down my body, stopping on my newly protruding belly. I’m not big by any means, but there’s a visible bump that’s popped out in the last couple weeks, bringing me from slightly bloated to pregnant status.
A soft smile splays across his face as he dips down and places several kisses to the center of my belly. As I watch him kiss every inch of my flesh that’s housing our growing baby, I reach for his phone and snap a couple pictures for the journal he bought me.
Once he’s done giving my belly attention, he crawls up my body and his mouth connects with mine in a slow yet passionate kiss. One of his hands holds him up, while the other skates down my body, tweaking my nipple, massaging my side, and landing between my legs. Our kiss heats up, as his fingers push into me slowly.
“Your body knows my touch,” he murmurs against my lips. “The second I touch you, it reacts. You feel how wet you are…” He thrusts his fingers into me harder, deeper, before he pulls them out, bringing them up to my mouth, dragging them across the seam of my lips so I can taste myself. I dart my tongue out, licking his finger, and his eyes light up.
He crashes his mouth back against mine, and after pushing his boxers down and hooking my leg around his torso, he enters me in one fluid motion, deliciously filling me up. My fingers grip his shoulders and my back arches slightly.
Isaac makes love to me slowly, methodically, as if every thrust of his hips, every swipe of his tongue, every bite to my lips is a silent apology, begging me to forgive him. And in response, I hold him tighter, squeeze my thighs harder, kiss him deeper, wordlessly conveying how much I love him and need him and forgive him.
When we’ve both found our release, Isaac pulls out and picks me up, carrying me to the bathroom so we can get cleaned up. Once we’re done, he carries me back to bed and wraps me up in his strong, comforting arms, spooning me from behind. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he murmurs softly. “Not you or our baby.”
With his hand protectively over my belly, we both fall asleep, and for the first time in months, it feels like I actually do sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ISAAC
“Hey, Isaac. Didn’t you say you’re an only child?” Camilla glances at me from behind a box of shit in the attic with a confused look on her face. We’ve spent the morning going through the stuff in the attic after Camilla noticed a few baby items in a box. It’s been mostly sentimental items from my childhood and Camilla has even found a few pieces of clothing I wore as a baby she plans to wash so the baby can wear them as well. After my parents died, I boarded up the place and never returned until I needed a place to hide that nobody knew about. Since everyone thought I sold it years ago, it was the perfect place to disappear to.
“I am.” I set the box down I was looking through and walk over to where she is.
“Not according to this birth certificate.” She hands me a document and I skim over it. It’s an older looking birth certificate. The name on it is Ian Perry and the parents listed are Ophelia Perry and Samuel Petrosian. I read through all the information in shock.
“Have you ever heard of that name before?” Camilla asks.
“No, but whoever this is, was born after my parents met. I can’t believe my dad knew about another child and had nothing to do with him. Growing up, he was such a hands-on dad.”
“Maybe something happened to him, like he died, and it was too hard for your dad to talk about.”
“Maybe.” I pull my phone out and dial Frank. He answers on the first ring.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure. Do you know an Ian Perry?” The silence on the other end tells me he does. “Frank…”