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His amber eyes never leave mine. Even when he begins carefully rocking into me, his cock dragging deliciously against my hole, he just… watches me. “I love you,” he raggedly whispers, letting his cock stretch me wide. “You are my life. You know that, don’t you?”

I answer by grabbing his face, and bringing him down for a deep, desperate kiss. He’sfuckingme, his hands fisted in the sheets as he drives his hips into mine, and it doesn’t matter that he’s only halfway in, or that he’s clearly tuned in to my reactions for any proof of pain or discomfort.

It feels so good to be handled like this, my body used for nothing more than the pleasure we’re both frantically chasing. His breath hits my chin, coming in short bursts, and his eyebrows pull tightly together, an odd distress coming over his face.

“How can you be this tight?” he mutters, digging his fist beneath my hips and using it to drag me upward, as close to him as I can get. “I’m not going to be able to hold it, baby.”

I realize then that he’s like Wick was earlier. Too close to the edge. So close to bursting.

The thought makes meburn, and I hold his chin, forcing his gaze to mine. “Give it to me,” I plead, already seeing his face tighten as his thrusts grow deeper, more erratic. “Put your baby in me, Lagan.”

His mouth opens on a shocked gasp, my hole fluttering around the first strong pulse of his cock. He holds my gaze when he comes, poised above me in a tense shudder. “Fuck,” he growls, heat spreading through me with each surge. “Jesus, you’ve got us on a fucking hair-trigger.”

He’s barely finished his last shiver of pleasure when he pulls away. His cock slips wetly from my ass, and I try not to squirm as he instantly ducks down to check me, chest heaving as his fingers spread me open for his assessing eyes.

Seemingly satisfied that no damage has been done, he collapses next to me, turning to nuzzle his face into my breast. I hum when he licks lazily at my nipple, sucking away a rogue droplet of milk. We’re both too tired to move, exhausted and satiated, and I comb my fingers idly through his auburn hair.

Slowly, he stirs. “Fuck,” he mutters, “I think I passed out.”

“It’s okay.” I yawn. “It’s been a tiring few weeks.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Kissing my shoulder, he gets out of bed, walking to the bathroom. Stretching out on the massive bed, my fears from before have faded. My men love me—want me,needme—despite the changes in my body and our lives. We’re different now. We’re not just Princes and a Princess. Not even just lovers. We’re more.

We’re partners.

We’recreators.

And I can’t wait to see what we create next.

27

Pace

“So,”I say, drawing out the word as I park. “You think Maddox is banging a twenty-year-old right now in his crypt?”

Wicker snaps, “Dude, we promised not to mention it!”

“Youpromised.” I laugh, killing the ignition. We’re parked in front of Royal Ink, and it hits me how often we’re in West End these days. I still remember having to sneak into the territory to get to Verity that one night, months ago. Scaling this building, getting in through the skylight, and standing in wait as she showered up there. “I’m fucking fascinated by the entire thing. Like, how does it work with him and the other Barons? Do they share? Does she call him Dadd?—”

He whips a hot glare on me. “I swear to god I will punch you in the junk if you don’t stop.”

Maybe Wicker having this whole extended family isn’t such an issue, after all. I haven’t seen him this riled up in years. “Fine,” I agree, laughing. “Fine.”

We pass Rory and Baxter on the way up, telling them to take off before riding the elevator up to the top floor. Since the Dukesand Lavinia didn’t have a baby to come home to, they hung back to enjoy the post-wedding festivities, meaning Mama B is still alone with Justice.

“You’re early,” she says, when we walk through the door. The admonishment is clear in her voice, although it’s hard to tell whether or not that’s down to the trashy reality TV show she just paused on the big screen. “I told you, we’re fine.”

Wicker looks around the space, having never been here before.Yes, I want to say,that’s the table where Nick Bruin nearly bled to death.

I bet they eat steaks on it now.

“Lex has been busy with med school and hasn’t had much time with Verity.” He shrugs, picking up a trophy on the side table and inspecting it. “We decided to come pick up Justice and give them a few minutes.”

Resigned, Mama B turns off the TV, rising to her feet. “He’s in the bedroom, out like a light,” she says, walking over to the wine refrigerator. She pulls out a bottle and holds it up to Wick. “Want a glass?”

“No thanks,” he says, pushing his fists into his pockets. “We’ve agreed to stay sober in solidarity while Verity was pregnant, and now, nursing.”

She looks vaguely impressed. Then, she pops the cork. I hear the gurgle of wine pouring into the glass as I enter the guest room, seeking out our son. Justice is on his back in the portable crib, his pacifier resting next to his head, and like always, I have to take a long moment just to watch him, seeing his chest rise and fall with even breaths.