Page 41 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

I CAN’T STOP TOUCHING THIS BUMP

RASMUS

T he weight of those three little words still lingers between us as I softly lay Haisley down on the bed. I love you. They fill all the empty space between us, wrapping us up in something sacred. I love you.

“We don’t have to rush tonight.” My hands linger on her waist when she looks up at me.

She shakes her head, fingers curling around the hem of my T-shirt, tugging me closer. “I don’t want slow, Rasmus.”

Neither do I.

I lower my head, capturing her mouth in a kiss that deepens fast. And even though I’ve kissed her before, the feeling is somewhat different now—there’s no uncertainty, no unspoken questions, no hesitation. Only the undeniable truth of what we are. We’re in love.

I pull back to breathe the words against her lips, testing the way they sound when I say them out loud. “I love you. Beyond words. Beyond anything. ”

A smile blooms across her face. “I love you, too, Rasmus.”

The way she says it anchors me to this moment, this room and this life we’re building together.

My hands slide under her T-shirt, pushing the fabric up.

I need to feel and see all of her while mapping every stretch of her skin like it’s my last job on this Earth.

When she lifts her arms, letting me strip the fabric, my breath catches as it often does around her.

The sight of her—her body, the curves, the swell of her belly where our baby grows—is my undoing. It never fails to wreck me.

“Damn,” I murmur, dragging my hands over her stomach, feeling the life we created beneath my touch. “I can’t stop touching this bump.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“With you? Always,” I lock my eyes with her. “And this? You carrying our baby? I’ll never get over it.”

Her breath hitches as I press a kiss below her ribs. I slide her shorts and underwear off, loving the way her body responds to my touch. She’s warm, soft, and entirely all mine.

I kneel between her legs, my palms gripping her bare skin, spreading her open for me.

My mouth follows the same path as my hands, tracing over the places that I know drive her wild.

She gasps when I drag my tongue along the inside of her thigh, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer.

“Rasmus.” Her voice is shaky, filled with need.

I could tease her, draw out every moment, make her writhe with anticipation until she’s trembling and desperate, begging for relief. I could take my time tasting, teasing, and denying her until she’s gasping my name like a prayer .

But not tonight.

Tonight, I want her unraveling beneath me, shattering in my hands. She deserves to be consumed by so much pleasure that the only thing anchoring her to reality is my touch.

Settling between her thighs, I give her exactly what she wants.

Exactly what she needs. A sharp gasp escapes her lips as I spread her open before my mouth claims her.

She arches against me, her fingers fisting the sheets, breath hitching on a moan as I wreck her with my tongue in the best way possible.

She’s lost to the feeling of us, and I swear, I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking.

When she shatters under my touch, I hold her through it, pressing kisses to her stomach, to the place where our child is growing.

By the time I rise up, her fingers are already reaching for me, desperate and impatient for more. I take off my clothes, watching the way her eyes rake over my body as her tongue flicks out to wet her lips.

“If you weren’t already pregnant with my baby,” I rasp, positioning myself over her, “I’d make it happen right now.”

“And I would let you.”

Her nails dig into my back as I press inside her, slow and deep, her body welcoming me in a way that makes me lose my breath in return. She’s tight, warm, perfect, and mine .

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I breathe, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth as her hips tilt, taking me deeper. “You’re too perfect.”

“God,” she gasps, arching under me. “Don’t stop.”

“There’s no god in this room. Only me and you, sweetness. ”

I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, holding her open for me like the perfect gift she is. My hips roll into her with slow, deliberate strokes, and I watch her come undone beneath me. Every shake exhale draws me closer to the edge, but I fight to hold back, needing to watch her fall apart first.

Her walls tighten around me, clutching me so perfectly. I press a hand to her stomach, feeling the subtle swell there. Feeling our child between us, something primal and possessive surges through me. It’s a proof of how deeply I’ve claimed her, how she’s mine.

“You feel so fucking good,” I growl, thrusting harder, watching her shudder. “So perfect, full of my baby and soon full of my cum.”

She moans my name, her body clenching around me, her head thrown back in pleasure. I don’t stop until she’s gasping and trembling, falling apart beneath me. The moment she comes, I follow right after her, burying myself deep, groaning against her neck.

For a long time, neither of us moves or speaks. Our breaths sync, our hearts pound in sync. I brush my lips over her temple, her cheek, and the corner of her mouth, unable to stop touching her.

When I finally ease back, my hand drifts between her legs, feeling the mess of us leaking out, warm and wet. I trail my fingers along her entrance, watching her shiver at the touch.

“Look at that,” I murmur, my voice full of possessive pride. “All mine.”

A low, sated moan slips from her lips as I ease two fingers inside, pressing some of the cum back into her. Her walls flutter around the intrusion, still sensitive from my cock. It makes me want to take her again. But I have better plans.

I lift my fingers, slick and coated in us, and drag them over her lower lip. “Open for me, sweetness.”

She parts her lips and her tongue darts out to taste, wrapping around my fingers. My good girl sucks them deep into her mouth, never breaking eye contact. The sight alone nearly undoes me. My cock gives an eager twitch, already stirring back to life, the need to take her all over again strong.

“Good girl,” I praise, pulling my fingers free with a wet pop. I trail them back down between her thighs, brushing over her entrance, where my cum is still leaking.

Her breath catches, hips shifting toward my hand, silently begging for more. I lean down and catch her mouth in a deep, slow kiss, taste of us still lingering on her tongue.

“I love you,” I whisper between kisses. “I love you more than I knew I could love someone.”

Her responding smile is sleepy and sated. “I love you, too.”

And I know no matter how many times I fill and claim her, it’ll never be enough. I’ll always want more.