Page 97 of Omega's Formula

His answer is to push my coat off my shoulders.

It falls to the floor. His follows a moment later, and then we’re pressed together, his rounded belly firm against me, and the reality of it—the baby, our baby—makes something crack open in my chest.

“Are you sure?” I ask, forcing myself to slow down even though every cell in my body is screaming for more. “Nolan, we don’t have to—”

“I’m sure.” He pulls back to meet my eyes, and what I see there stops my heart. “Out there with me and Ellie… you looked happy. I haven’t seen you look happy before, not since...”

Not since his heat.

“I am happy.” I press my forehead to his. “Being here with you. Getting to see Ellie. Getting to—” I rest my hand on the curve of his stomach, gentle. “This is all I’ve wanted for months.”

He shivers under my touch. “Bedroom. Now.”

We barely make it. We leave a trail of discarded clothing down the hallway and by the time we reach the bed, I’m down to my undershirt and he’s gloriously bare from the waist up, the changes to his body on full display.

He’s filled out. Not just his stomach, though that’s the most obvious change. His face is fuller, his shoulders rounder, his whole body softened by pregnancy. He’s beautiful. He was always beautiful, but this—

“Stop staring.” But he doesn’t sound like he means it. He sounds breathless, hungry.

“I can’t.” I lay him back on the bed, careful of his belly, and take my time looking. “God, Nolan. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Then show me.”

I do.

I kiss my way down his body, relearning every inch of skin I’ve been dreaming about for months. He tastes the same: salt and sweetness andNolan. His hands find my hair, gripping tight, guiding me where he wants me.

“Please—” The word breaks apart in his throat as I reach his hip, pressing my mouth to the spot where I left bruises all those months ago. “Erik, please—”

“I’ve got you.” I work his pants off, then his boxers, and then there’s nothing between us. He’s hard and leaking and so responsive that every touch makes him gasp. “Tell me what you need.”

“You. Just—” He pulls at me, urgent. “I need you inside me. Now.”

I should make him wait. I should take my time, worship every inch of him, show him exactly how precious he is to me, but he’s looking at me with those green eyes blown dark with desire, and I’m never going to deny him anything ever again.

The preparation is quick. He’s already wet, slick with want, his body opening for me like it remembers exactly what we are to each other. When I finally push inside, we both groan.

“Okay?” I hold myself still, trembling with the effort, letting him adjust.

“More than okay.” He wraps his legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Move.”

I move.

We find our rhythm quickly. He’s tighter than before, somehow, the angle different with his changed body, and every thrust sends sparks down my spine. He clings to me, nails digging into my back.

“I thought about this,” I confess against his throat. “Every night. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how you felt, how you sounded—”

“Me too.” His voice is wrecked. “Even when I hated you. Especially when I hated you. I’d dream about you and wake up aching—”

I kiss him to stop the words, to stop myself from falling apart completely. We’re both close. I can feel it in the way his body tightens around me, the way his moans pitch higher.

“Let go,” I tell him. “I want to feel you. Come for me, Nolan.”

He does. His whole body arches off the bed, his cry muffled against my shoulder, and the feeling of him pulsing around me drags me over the edge right after. I come with his name on my lips, stars exploding behind my eyes, pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

We collapse together in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs, breathing hard. His hand finds mine and our fingers intertwine, holding tight.

25. Nolan