Page 43

Chapter 43

Piers

T he first thing I register is warmth. The second is the steady rhythm of soft breathing. It takes me a second to place it. Then it slams into me all at once.

Fantasia. Valeria.

My eyes snap open, my pulse kicking up even though I’m lying perfectly still. For a long time, I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I just take in the sight before me, afraid that if I shift too suddenly, the moment will disappear. Like I’ll wake up to the sterile hush of a hotel room, alone, and realize this was just another cruel dream.

But it’s real.

They’re here.

The word daughter still feels foreign in my head. It doesn’t seem possible. But she’s curled up between us, her tiny body a solid, living presence I can feel all the way down to my bones. Her hair is a mess of soft, red curls, her small fingers twitching slightly in sleep. She’s safe. She’s breathing.

I almost lost her.

Just as soon as I found out she was mine, I was so damn close to losing her.

I almost lost them both.

The thought sends a sickening wave through me, and I force myself to breathe past it. It’s over. We made it out.

I shift slightly, careful not to wake them, and glance at Fantasia. Her face is soft in sleep, the tension that usually hardens her features nowhere to be found. She looks… peaceful. Like she doesn’t have to fight the whole damn world right now. Like she doesn’t have to fight me.

Two years of drowning myself in anything that could make me forget her- anger, work, violence.

And now, she’s right beside me. The woman I never stopped wanting, the one who pushed me away every time I got too close.

But I couldn’t help it. She was the one thing I could never get enough of, no matter how hard she fought to keep me at arm’s length.

And now?

She’s in this bed. With our daughter. With me.

A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts. My body tenses instinctively, my protective instincts still on high alert.

I slip out of bed carefully, crossing the room with quiet steps before cracking the door open.

Desmond lingers in the doorway, hands buried in his pockets, his stance telegraphing hesitation. His attention drifts over my shoulder- to where Fantasia and my daughter are beginning to stir in the tangled sheets- before settling back on me. And when our eyes lock this time, his smile blooms into something radiant, pride softening every hard edge of him.

He’s happy for me. Not just because I survived, not just because I saved my daughter, but because for the first time, I’m not holding myself apart. I’m not keeping a foot back, hovering on the edges like a ghost. I’ve stepped in. I’ve stayed.

I had once told him I already had a family, that I wouldn’t walk away from my responsibilities. What I didn’t admit- what I didn’t even let myself fully consider- was that I was clinging to duty because it was safe. Because it gave me a reason to keep my distance. But now?

Now, my family isn’t just the one I inherited. It’s the one I’m choosing.

“You gonna let me take my niece to breakfast, or are you planning to stand there looking like you don’t trust me?” he asks, his voice light, teasing.

I huff a breath, shaking my head. “That all depends.”

I glance over my shoulder toward the bed. Fantasia is awake now, propped up on one elbow, sleep still clinging to her eyes. She looks between me and Desmond, then down at Valeria.

To my surprise, she nods. “Yeah,” she murmurs, voice husky with sleep. “That’s fine.”

I blink, glancing at her again to make sure I heard her right. No hesitation. No argument. Just… trust.

Desmond raises an eyebrow like he hadn’t expected an easy yes either, but he doesn’t question it. He steps inside, moving toward the bed with the same quiet carefulness I had earlier.

I watch as he kneels beside Valeria, brushing a gentle hand over her back.

Luckily, Valeria had taken a liking to Desmond despite just meeting both of us yesterday. Maybe it was because we looked exactly alike. She’d stared between us for a long time last night, her little brow furrowed in concentration, before finally declaring, “Two!”

Desmond had chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Twins, little one. Means there’s double the trouble.”

She had giggled, delighted, and from that moment on, she hadn’t been wary of him.

Now, as Desmond kneels beside her, brushing a gentle hand over her back, she looks up at him without fear. Without hesitation.

“Sweetheart,” Fantasia murmurs, brushing a thumb over her daughter’s cheek. “Do you want to have breakfast with your uncle?”

Valeria blinks again, then shifts, peering past her mother toward Desmond. Her small voice is hesitant. “Uncle Desi?”

He steps forward, crouching slightly so he’s closer to her level. “That’s right. You hungry?”

Valeria giggles, rubbing her eyes.

Fantasia hesitates for a split second, then sighs and kisses Valeria’s forehead. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Go eat, love.”

Desmond claps his hands together. “Perfect. Let’s go get you the biggest stack of pancakes you’ve ever seen.”

She nods, already sitting up as she extends her arms to him.

Desmond grins, shooting me a look that says, See? She trusts me.

And I’m grateful I don’t feel the need to challenge that.

The door clicks shut, and before I can even turn, she’s there.

Right behind me.

I barely have a second to react before her hands are on me, sliding up my back, over my shoulders- grabbing, needing. Then her lips crash into mine.

The kiss is desperate, hungry, like she’s trying to erase every second we’ve spent apart. She presses into me, her body molding against mine, fingers threading into my hair and tugging just hard enough to send a sharp thrill down my spine.

I groan into her mouth, gripping her waist and lifting her with ease. I don’t remember moving, but suddenly, we’re on the bed, her back against the mattress, her legs wrapping tight around my hips like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

“Piers,” she breathes against my lips, her voice rough with need.

Her breath is warm, her fingers digging into my shoulders like she can’t get close enough. “I missed you,” she murmurs, the words slipping out between kisses, raw and unguarded.

I press my forehead to hers, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “I missed you too,” I rasp, the confession torn straight from my soul.

I’m kissing her again, deeper this time, like I can make up for every second we’ve been apart. Her body arches beneath me, her legs locking tighter around my hips, and I know- this isn’t just about need. It’s about everything we never let ourselves say.

I kiss her harder, deeper, my hands roaming her body like I’m relearning every curve, every scar, every place that makes her gasp. She arches into me, and I swallow her moan like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

Two years.

Two goddamn years of wanting her, of pretending I didn’t, of burying myself in anything that could dull the ache of her absence.

But nothing- nothing- could compare to this.

Her hands push at my shirt, impatient, and I tear it off, barely giving her time to do the same before my mouth is on her skin- teeth grazing her collarbone, tongue tracing the swell of her breast. She gasps, her back arching off the bed, and I revel in the way her body responds to me, like it remembers every touch, every flick of my tongue, every bite.

I shove my pants down, kicking them off without a second thought, my hands already hooking into the waistband of her panties. A sharp tug, and they’re gone, the flimsy fabric no match for the urgency coiling between us.

“Oh, fuck,” she hisses when my fingers slide between her thighs, finding her already wet, already aching for me.

That's all it takes. My control snaps, and I surge forward, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss as I drive myself into her, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

Fantasia cries out, her head falling back against the mattress as her hips buck up to meet mine. I groan raggedly against her throat, the sensation of finally being inside her again almost unbearable. She's so hot, so tight, her walls squeezing me like a vice.

“Fuck, Fantasia,” I grunt, my hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. “You feel so good. So perfect. Like you were made for me.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as she arches into me. “Always.”

I capture her mouth again, swallowing her moans as I pound into her, every thrust pushing me deeper, harder, until I'm drowning in sensation. In the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her body lush and yielding beneath mine.

I break away only to trail biting kisses along her jaw, down her throat. She tilts her head back, baring more of her skin to me, and I oblige greedily, sucking marks into her flesh. Branding her. Claiming her.

Mine. She's mine, and I'm never letting her go again.

Fantasia's hands roam over my back, my ass, urging me on. “Harder,” she demands breathlessly. “Fuck me harder, Piers. I need it. I need you.”

I oblige with a low growl, changing my angle to hit that spot inside her that has her seeing stars. She keens in ecstasy, her legs tightening around me, pulling me in deeper with each thrust. Her body is a taut bow beneath me, her breaths coming in short gasps that fan the flames of my own desire. I can feel the tension coiling within her, the inevitable releasest of her climax building with every stroke.

“Come for me, Fantasia,” I growl into the damp curve of her neck, teeth scraping skin as my voice fractures with need. “I want to taste every fucking tremor.”

She cries out, a wild, untamed sound tearing from her throat as she falls apart. Her body convulses, her inner walls clamping around me as her orgasm crashes over her in wave after wave of ecstasy. It's too much for me to hold back, and with a final thrust, I join her in release, my body shuddering as I empty myself into her warmth.

For a moment, we are both lost in the intensity of the moment, our bodies slick with exertion, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. I collapse onto her, careful not to crush her, and she holds me close, her arms a sanctuary I never want to leave.

As our hearts slowly return to a normal rhythm, I find her hand and intertwine our fingers, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. Our breaths sync, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself relax completely. There's no need for words, no need to break the silence with empty promises or anxious confessions. We've said everything we need to with our bodies.

Fantasia’s fingers trace absentminded patterns along my forearm, her breathing slow and steady. I can feel the moment her mind starts working again, spinning through whatever thought has just planted itself there.

Then, casually, I say, “So… you told Harold you were married to me, huh?”

She stiffens slightly, but when I glance down, there’s no real panic on her face. Just the hint of irritation, like she’s been caught in something she’d rather not discuss. “It was an attempt to get out of a sticky situation.”

I hum, pretending to consider this. Then I tighten my grip around her waist and smirk. “Yeah, well, I always knew you’d be my wife anyway. So no sense prolonging the inevitable.”

Fantasia scoffs, shifting beneath me, but she doesn’t protest.

Doesn’t correct me.

Doesn’t deny it.

I take that as a yes.