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"You're spoiling me." I reach for a strawberry, but he playfully pulls the tray away.

"That's the plan." His blue eyes spark with mischief. "Though I expect proper payment for these."

"Oh? And what's your price, Mr. Ifrinn?"

He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. "A kiss should cover it… for now."

I turn my face to meet his lips, tasting the hint of chocolate. He must have sampled one. I melt into him. Even after all this time, his kisses still make me swoon.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs against my mouth. He sets the tray down and slides his hand over my belly. “Good morning, little one.” Our baby kicks in response to his touch, making us both smile.

He sits down with me, and I lean back into his chest. His lips trail down my neck, and I sigh contentedly. These quiet moments of intimacy feel precious. Just us, wrapped in our own little world.

"I'm so proud of you," he says softly, taking a berry and feeding me. "You're amazing, you know that?"

The pure adoration in his voice makes my eyes sting with happy tears. Damn pregnancy hormones. But there's something incredibly moving about how this dangerous man, who can strike fear into Boston's underworld, can be so tender with me.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Of course.” His fingers trail along my neck, and I shiver at his delicate touch. His breath is warm against my ear as he whispers, "Let me show you how much I love you."

My pulse quickens as his hands slide down my arms. Even through my sweater, his touch ignites sparks across my skin. I tilt my head to give him better access as he plants soft kisses down my neck.

"The strawberries can wait," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. His hands drift to my hips, thumbs drawing slow circles that make me squirm.

"Flint," I breathe, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his dark hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers between kisses. "Let me worship every inch of you."

His hand slides up to cup my breast through my sweater. Even with the changes pregnancy has brought to my body, he makes me feel desired, cherished. The way he touches me, reverent yet possessive, sets my blood on fire.

"Yes," I sigh as his other hand dips lower, teasing.

The warmth of Flint's touch fades as a sudden tightness grips my abdomen. I try to ignore it at first, not wanting to break this perfect moment, but another wave comes stronger than the first.

“Flint.” I gasp, pressing my hand against my belly. The sensation is different from other tightness I've experienced before. More intense, more purposeful.

“Yes, Lucy.” He pinches my nipple.

“Stop.”

Flint immediately stills. "What's wrong?"

Another tightening hits, and I grip his arm. "I think… I think this might be it."

His whole demeanor shifts from passionate to protective in an instant. “It as in… it? The baby?”

“Yes.” I suck in a breath.

“Are you sure?” His voice carries an edge of panic.

A stronger contraction answers that question, making me gasp. "Pretty sure.” My heart races with a mix of fear and excitement. This is really happening.

"Okay, stay calm." I think he might be talking to himself.

"The hospital bag—” I start to say, but he's already moving.

He grabs the bag and pulls out his phone, ordering a car to be brought out front.