Page 161 of Nine Months to Bear

“Like I can’t fucking breathe when you’re not around. I’d burn down half of Boston if someone hurt you—do you know that? Olivia, the mere thought of you with anyone else makes me want to commit multiple felonies, worse than my usual ones.”

My heart stutters. “Stefan?—”

“I told myself for a long time that it was just business,” he continues. “Then I told myself it was just sex. Even earlier tonight, I told myself it was about the baby.” He shakes his head. “But none of that’s true. Hasn’t been true for weeks.”

“Then what is true?”

“The only truth I can find words for is thatyoufucking happened to me, Olivia. And I’ve been fighting it since day one because I know what this leads to. I watched it destroy my father. I swore I’d never…” He stops, jaw working.

“You swore you’d never what?” I prod.

Dragging his eyes up to meet mine, he finishes, “Let someone have that kind of power over me.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He lets out a crazed laugh. “Now, I’m sitting here listening to you say you want me—all of me—and instead of running like I should, all I can think about is how to keep you. How to make sure you never change your mind.”

“I won’t?—”

“You might,” he warns. “When you see who I really am. What I really do.”

“I already know who you are.”

“You know pieces. The parts I let you see.”

“Then show me the rest.”

He studies me for a long moment. “You say that now, but…”

“I’ll say it tomorrow, too. And the day after that.” I squeeze his hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Stefan. Not unless you make me.”

“I won’t.” It comes out fierce, almost angry. “I’m done trying not to want this.”

The kiss starts before I even realize it’s happening. One second, Stefan’s looking at me with those impossible eyes, and the next, his mouth is on mine.

My whole body sighs into it. Into him.

This is uncharted territory for us. Something else entirely. His hands frame my face and his body is warm and solid where it’s pressed flush against mine.

I feel invincible. Like I just discovered the fountain of youth and whaddayaknow, it tastes like Stefan Safonov. Joy floods through me, bright and bubbling, making me dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the pregnancy. Or him. Probably him.

He pulls back just enough to breathe. “Olivia… I need you to know.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “This isn’t just sex or convenience or the baby. This is…” He struggles with the words.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to?—”

“Love.” He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m willing to try… love. With you.”

My heart stops. Actually stops. “Stefan…”

“This feeling—whatever you want to call it—it doesn’t happen for me. Ever. I don’t let people in. I don’tcare, ever, about anyone except Babushka.”

“And now?”

“Now, I care so much it terrifies me.”

“It terrifies me, too,” I admit. “Because what if we screw this up? What if we can’t figure out how to be us?”

“Then we’ll be a really bad example for our kid.”