Page 59 of Pregnant with Bratva Twins

“I always was,” she whispers back.

The first kiss is slow, reverent, my hands trembling as I trace the silk at her waist. “Are you sure?” I murmur.

She nods, pulling me closer. “I’ve never been more sure.”

We fall into bed together, laughter and breathlessness giving way to touch. She slides her hands under my shirt, her lips hungry against mine. I worship her with every kiss, every careful movement, tasting the salt of her tears and her laughter.

“Tell me you love me,” I whisper into her neck.

She threads her fingers through my hair, voice trembling. “I love you.”

Those three words burn through me, sweeter than any vow, deeper than any promise. My mouth crashes back to hers, hungry now, desperate to claim every inch of her.

She arches beneath me, pressing closer, her legs winding around my waist as my hands slide beneath the lace of her lingerie. Her skin is warm and soft, the silk a whisper against my palms. I take my time, peeling the fabric away, kissing a traildown her throat, over her collarbone, lower and lower until she’s shivering for me.

She gasps as I find her breast, teasing her nipple with my tongue, my hand stroking the curve of her hip, memorizing the feel of her. Her hips lift to meet me, desperate for friction, for my touch.

I slide my hand between her thighs, fingers slipping through her heat, and her head falls back, a broken sound spilling from her lips.

“Markian, please—”

I groan, the sound raw, and push two fingers inside her, thumb circling her clit until she’s writhing, clutching at my shoulders, her body arching. “That’s it, love,” I murmur against her skin. “Let me hear you.”

She moans, her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me up for a kiss as I work her, slow and deep, drawing her to the edge. “I need you,” she breathes, voice wrecked.

“You have me,” I growl.

I push inside her, slow and deep, and we both gasp. Her nails digging into my back, my hand fisted in her hair. I thrust, building a rhythm, hard and desperate but never rough, every movement a confession, a promise.

She cries out, shattering around me, her body clenching tight as I follow, spilling into her with a groan. We collapse together, tangled in sweat and silk and the sound of our hearts, her lips soft against my shoulder.

“I love you,” she whispers again as I hold her close, and I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it back.

*****

THE END