Page 110 of Nine Months to Love

The warmth in my chest spreads, filling all the cold, empty spaces Margaret’s words left behind. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to thank me for telling the truth.”

“Yes, I do.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, turn toward him. “But I’d rather show you than tell you.”

His brow furrows. “What do you?—”

I lean across the console, my hand sliding up his thigh.

“Olivia.” His voice is strained. “We’re at a playground parking lot.”

“It’s empty.” My fingers find his belt buckle. “And dark.”

“Someone could?—”

“Let them.” I work the belt open, move to his zipper. “I want to thank you properly.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I want to.” I look up at him through my lashes. “Please?”

His breath catches. His hand tangles in my hair.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Show me just how grateful you are.”

35

STEFAN

Her mouth on me is heaven and hell all mixed up in one perfect torture.

I grip the steering wheel with one hand, the other tangled in her hair. Not controlling her. Just holding on.

She takes her time. There’s no rush or urgency, just slow, deliberate attention that makes my brain short-circuit.

She retreats just enough to look up at me. Her eyes are dark and determined.

She winks. Then her mouth is on me again and I forget how to form words.

She’s good at this. Far too fucking good. Or maybe it’s just that it’sherwho’s doing it. The simple fact that this brilliant, beautiful woman is on her knees in my car, taking me apart piece by piece because she wants to.

Because I defended her.

Because I called her my wife.

I should probably examine this strange, exhilarating feeling surging through me, but before I can get too deep into it, her tongue does this thing and my hips jerk involuntarily.

“Fuck.” I tighten my grip in her hair. “Olivia, I’m going to?—”

That’s all she needed to hear. She hums and doubles down, sucking me to the base, and whimpers like she’s begging me to fall apart for her.

So I do.

The orgasm is like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. My whole body goes rigid. I can’t breathe or think or do anything exceptfeelas she takes everything I have to give, swallows it all down, and sighs happily.

When I finally come back to myself, she’s sitting up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. There’s a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Better?” she asks.