Chapter 34
Roxy
Liam flexes his fingers around my hand, almost crushing it. I don’t complain. I don’t breathe. I don’t dare to think.
The technician squirts gel on the wand and smiles at me before she starts the exam.
For three days in Guatemala, we teeter between the need to rush to the closest ultrasound and the caution of letting my body recover from the fever and the concussion.
This morning, we finally landed in New York, and our first trip was straight to the obstetrician.
I’m trying to stay calm, because this baby really doesn’t need more stress. But it’s hard. I want to ask the technician to hurry.
Liam leans in to kiss my forehead. A steady presence. A silent support. A reliable safety.
“I love you,” I whisper, still not used to the words but loving their grace.
“I—”
But he doesn’t get to finish. The steady thump fills the room. Loud. Fast. Healthy.
A sob rips out of me. Liam’s breath hitches, and he almost collapses on the bed beside me.
Ignoring the technician, he hugs me. Hard. Suffocating. Perfect.
“Okay, let us finish the exam.” The technician chuckles.
Liam straightens up. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Everything looks good at this stage. Unfortunately, the baby’s position—”
“What’s wrong?” Liam interjects.
She smirks, probably used to all sorts of anxious parents. “Baby is showing me his or her bum, so I can’t determine the gender. We can poke them around a bit.”
“No poking,” Liam snaps. I widen my eyes, and he adds, “Thank you.”
“I’ll make a note that you don’t want to know the gender.” The technician removes the wand.
“We don’t?” I look at him.
“Do we?”
I know he would agree to whatever I wanted. “I asked first.”
“I think I want to know. If it’s a girl, I need to get a gun permit…”
I swat my hand at him. The technician busies herself writing something on my chart.
“I want to know too.” I grin at him.
“Why don’t you schedule another appointment next week?” The technician leaves us.
Using the paper towel, I clean up, and I’m about to slide from the table, but Liam steps between my legs. “Not so fast.”
The way he looks at me with unrestrained hunger makes my core clench, wetness pooling between my legs. “What are you doing?”
He lifts my foot and puts it back into the stirrup, and then he does the same with my other foot.
I’m still covered by the paper sheet, but with him standing between my legs, I feel indecently exposed. And needy. So needy.
“What are you doing?” I repeat.
“Making sure you clean yourself well.” He slides his hand up my inner thigh and grazes my pussy with his thumb. He hums reverently, and I swallow a moan.
He swipes a few times, and I want to close my legs on instinct, but the stirrups make that impossible. The situation brings a fresh wave of arousal, and I lift my ass to meet his hand.
“So greedy.” The bastard moves his hand down my thigh, squeezing my flesh almost painfully. “Such a needy pussy. Such a horny girl, Little Thunder. You’re still wet from the gel?”
“Maybe,” I breathe.
He smirks. “I can slide in with no effort. Would you swallow my cock like a good girl?”
“Yes.” He isn’t even near my entrance, and I pant, chasing release as if he were offering.
He is good with words, but I need his hands. His tongue. His cock. It doesn’t even matter… I need him.
“Anyone can enter at any time.” With his palms, he pushes my knees impossibly wide. “Do you like that?”
My mind is hazy with lust, but I somehow manage to answer, “Yes, I love it. If someone enters, they will see who I belong to. They will see I’m yours.”
He stills, and his pupils darken. The air between us gets heavy.
“Finally,” he growls, and then he loses all patience. All decorum. All control.
And I love it.
He unzips and rams into me so fast, I gasp. I squeeze around him, welcoming him.
It’s not a romantic reunion. It’s not gentle lovemaking. It’s like after the separation and the past few days of worrying about the baby, we are finally free.
We channel all those pent-up emotions through our bodies. Punishing each other. Welcoming each other. Redeeming each other. And so much more.
It’s not enough. It might never be enough. But that’s okay.
The tempo is punishing. The slapping of our flesh echoes around us. I bite my lips to stifle my moans. Liam thrusts like a man possessed.
I stare at my man. His intensity. But he’s not looking at me. The man who always insists on eye contact is completely lost, his gaze on where we’re connected.
I glance down, and a rush of arousal rakes through me. This is where I belong. With this man.
It’s almost embarrassing how fast I come. The orgasm slams through me, fast but intense. Just in time, Liam leans forward and pulls me to him, and I use his shoulder like a nozzle, biting hard.
He follows me almost immediately. “That’s it, Little Thunder, milk me dry. This pussy deserves it all.”
Jesus, how he can still talk is beyond me. He holds me as our breathing slows down, and then he pulls out.
Ripping off another paper towel, he cleans me, gently stroking my skin, drying it. This time, he holds my gaze, full of reverence.
It makes my breathing harder and easier, warmth spreading through my chest.
I break the silence. “I don’t think I can walk out of here. My legs turned to jelly.” While I’m ready to accept the feelings, I’m not yet used to indulging them.
Liam kisses my forehead before he helps me out of the stirrups and brings over my underwear.
Squatting in front of me, he leads my leg through the opening.
My heart hammers, and it’s not from the sex. It hits me in slow motion… just what it means to be loved by this man. To allow him to help me. To not be alone anymore.
With him.
Liam helps me into the sweatpants he got me before we left Alf’s cottage from somewhere.
When he rises in front of me, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“I love you,” I swallow. “I fucking love you, Liam.”
He tilts his head, still frowning, but a grin ghosts his lips. “Maybe we should get your head checked. Just to be safe.”
I swat at him. “It’s my heart talking.”
His features soften. “I love you too.”
His lips close around mine. The kiss is gentle, in such contrast with what we just did. But that’s us. And that’s great.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs into my mouth.
“And you’re mine.”
A loud knock on the door jerks us apart. “Are you okay in there?” someone asks.
“We’re coming,” I respond, attempting to put on my shoes, take my bag, and leave all at once.
“I think we both already came,” Liam says and takes the shoes from me.
He pushes me to a chair and guides my feet inside them. And I let him.
“I thought you said no poking,” I tease as we exit the clinic.
He stills. “Fuck.”
And we both laugh.
“Why is Pascal telling me that if I want my order from him, I have to go through you?” Corm says through his teeth, stopping in the doorway like he’s hit a wall. “What the hell?” He looks around.
I put my feet up on my new desk and smirk. “I redecorated.”
I finally got Xander’s old office. And I made it mine.
He approaches me with care, as if the soft beige carpet can bite him. “I can see that.” He stares at the black wall.
One black wall to contrast the rest of the female elegance, soft textures, and pastel colors. It’s understated. It’s beautiful. It’s mine.
Corm turns around and picks a photo from a shelf beside me. “I’ve never seen this.”
“It’s my grandfather.”
He is right; I have never brought anything personal to work before.
Before, I was fighting to become an equal. Now I know I am.
He frowns. “You look different.”
I look down. I’m wearing comfortable jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer. I didn’t even realize that’s what I put on this morning.
No more armor.
“You came here to…?” I smirk, remembering why he came in.
He shakes his head. “Pascal.” He glares at me, recovering.
“Yes, he likes me.” I shrug.
“What does it have to do with me?”
I put my feet down and stand up, rounding the desk. I’m still shorter, but I look him in the eye. “You used me for your little competition game. And that’s not something I tolerate.”
“So that’s your revenge?” He scoffs.
“That’s a reminder to treat me with more respect. Respect I deserve.”
He opens his mouth. Then he closes it. He doesn’t argue the point. He nods. “Well-played, Moretti.”
He turns to leave, and I almost cave in. The necklace he ordered sits in the safe behind the painting on the wall, but he doesn’t need to know that. Yet.
I stop him. “Corm.”
He turns, looking at me with renewed respect. Sometimes, revenge tastes good. If it doesn’t consume you.
“I’m pregnant,” I announce.
His jaw ticks, but he smiles just as quickly. “Congratulations.”
He closes the door behind him, and I grin like an idiot. This is me. And I got here on my own terms.
With encouragement from the man who supported me, even when we were competing.
“Whose car is this?” I ask, the black leather smooth under my touch.
“Ours,” Liam answers, like I should know that.
“We have a car with a driver.” I chuckle, but immediately frown. He’s serious. “Why?”
“To drive us,” he deadpans.
“Asshole.”
He chuckles and pulls me to him. “I don’t want you waiting around for cabs when you have a stroller. This is a practical solution. For now, at least.”
“I don’t need a stroller yet,” I protest.
“We need to audition the drivers before the baby comes.”
“What’s next? A house in the suburbs?” I quip.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He leans in, his breath fanning my ear. “Besides, I can’t fuck you in a cab. Here we have a partition.”
Okay, he might have a point. I’m about to raise the partition when I notice where we are.
My leg bounces of its own volition as we approach my garage. Liam said he had a surprise for me.
If I had known it would somehow include the car collection, I would have stalled.
I don’t want to keep things from him, but shit, with everything that happened, I didn’t get a chance to tell him.
Now he will find out I sold five of the most precious cars, and he will think I hid it from him.
Because I did.
“Miss Lock.” Omar greets me when we get out of the car, and I wave weakly.