Say It
PIERCE
The good news: she no longer looks like she wants to maim me for breaking into our house. The bad news: even from across the room, only a week apart, I can read the strain written all over her.
The dark circles under her eyes look like bruises.
Her hair’s twisted up in a knot that’s half falling out.
Her nail polish is chipped to hell, her fingers restless even now, like she’s been picking at them while her mind wanders aimlessly.
She’s wearing two different earrings—probably didn’t even notice—but I did.
And every disheveled detail, every sign of exhaustion, punches straight through me.
It makes me hate myself more than I thought possible.
Because I know I’m the reason she looks like this.
I don’t think. My body moves before my brain can tell me she’ll push me away. I cross the space in three strides, ignoring the widening of her eyes and the stiffening of her shoulders. Before she can command me to stop, I’ve got her in my arms.
She fits against me like she always has, except now her rounded belly presses between us, forcing me to hold her carefully.
Still, I haul her as close as I can, clinging as if I hold on tight enough, the cracks between us might fuse back together.
My face finds her hair, breathing in that faint sweetness that’s all her.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself, baby,” I whisper against her temple, my voice fraying at the edges.
She exhales, a sound caught between surrender and protest, and slowly her body softens against mine. The tension in her muscles loosens, her hands finding my shirt and curling in the fabric like maybe she needs the anchor, too.
“I’m fine, Pierce. Just… haven’t been sleeping well. That’s normal for pregnant women pushing into their third trimester.”
I click my tongue, lifting her chin with my fingers so her eyes can’t hide. God, those eyes. Piercing ice, emotive, the ones I pray she passes down to our daughter. “That’s not what it is, and you damn well know it.”
Her lips press together, the tiniest tremble breaking through her practiced calm. And damn me, but her in my arms, that sassy mouth spinning excuses, it feels like home. Like catching my breath after a gun fight.
Which makes the next part worse.
Pulling away from her warmth feels like tearing myself open.
My knees almost buckle with the loss, and I’d let them drop to the floor and beg at her feet if I thought she’d wave a white flag and let me come crawling back home.
But she hasn’t said the word. She hasn’t made it clear.
So instead, I step back, rubbing at the ache ripping across my chest as the light dims in her gaze.
“I was just finishing up,” I manage, my voice tight. “The furniture’s all done, but I figured you’d still want to do some of the shopping yourself. My card’s saved on your account now. Order whatever else you want for her. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”
I force myself to look away before I drown in those ocean eyes. If I keep staring, I’ll break. They’ve always been my Achilles heel. One glance and I’m a sailor being called to the rocky shore.
“Oh… right, yeah. Okay, thanks?” Her voice tilts up at the end, hesitant, like even she doesn’t know what to do with the distance I’ve put between us.
That single, uncertain word nearly takes me out. If she would just say it—one simple word, stay—we’d both be free of this misery. But she doesn’t. So I drag in a breath, shoulders heaving, and turn toward the door. Each step feels heavier, as if leaving is a punishment etched into my skin.
I don’t know what this means for us. Maybe she just needs more time. Or maybe—God help me—perhaps we’re really too broken to stitch the rift closed. I can’t let myself believe that. I won’t. If I do, it’ll take root, and I’ll never claw it out.
“Pierce, wait!”
Her voice slices through the air, soft but urgent, and I freeze mid-step.
I turn, but I don’t move closer. Not yet. She could still change her mind. But then I see it—the fire lit behind her eyes, the same fire that I fell in love with ten years ago—and I know. She won’t take it back.
“Say it, Lexi.” My voice is rougher than I mean it to be, breaking on the edges of hope springing up in my chest.
Her throat bobs as she swallows, then a confident “Don’t go” is whispered from her supple pink lips.
“Close,” I murmur, taking one step toward her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Closer.” Another step, the space between us shrinking.
“You were right.”
I huff a low laugh, shaking my head. “I like the sound of that one, but try again.” My boot hits the hardwood, bringing me within reach of her again, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her suntanned skin.
Her chin tips up, steady now, and her voice doesn’t waver when she says it. “I love you.”
The words don’t just hit me, they slice me wide open, skinning me to the bone, and rebuilding me in the same breath. There’s no doubt in them, no hesitation. Just an undeniable truth laid bare.
“There we go, Princess.” My voice rasps, too full of emotion to hold steady.
Her button nose scrunches in annoyance, and I lean in, pressing a kiss to the tip of it.
“I’ll always love you, Lexi.”
And for the first time in the longest week of my life, I believe we might actually make it. Relief courses through my system, and I shake the tension from my fingertips.
Holding her, for those few seconds, lit up my skin, but I want—no need, more.
My fingers wrap around the back of her neck, hauling those parted lips to mine. I can’t be gentle with her right now. I need her skin against my skin, her breathy moans in my ear.
Walking her backwards, she follows my lead. It doesn’t take much to line her up with the kitchen table. I inwardly sigh at the layers of clothing between us. It’s not much, with summer creeping up on us, but it’s still too much with the urgency to have her right now.
Dropping to my knees in front of her, she slips her ass on the edge of the table, gripping the lip with her hands to balance and stare down at me. I’d happily get on my knees for this woman every day for the rest of our lives.
My fingers work diligently to unbuckle her sandals, throwing them aside.
I continue my efforts, tracing the smooth skin of her freckled thighs to the denim edge of her shorts.
Disappearing beneath the hem, I seek the warmth of her core, teasing the seam of her pussy over the soft cotton of her underwear.
The fabric’s soaked. The smell of her arousal permeates the small space between us, and my cock thickens.
“Someone missed me,” I tease, rubbing over her clit one more time before pulling my fingers free.
Her hips lift off the table’s edge, seeking more attention, but over the clothes game is too much for my desperation to handle.
As I shove down her shorts and underwear, she takes the hint and pulls her T-shirt over her head, leaving her almost completely exposed to me.
“Bra off too, baby.” I give the command.
The second she moves to follow through, I dive between her thighs. Licking through her tight seam. The touch pushes her back against the table, her ass finding purchase, holding her steady on the top, while I shove her thighs wide.
It’s a glorious fucking sight, one I’ll never take for granted again.
“Fuck, you’re soaked, Princess,” I taunt between savored licks and quick flicks to her hard clit.
“Pierce, please don’t tease me. I need you to fuck me.”
I growl, my chest bursting with the need to yell my satisfaction for everyone to hear.
“You rushed me last time, Princess. This time, I’ll have you falling apart on my tongue before I let you coat my cock in your juices.”
Her whimpers are just as sweet as her demands, when I drop my head again. Feasting on her cunt like it’s the last meal I’ll ever be served, I don’t leave a morsel of her wetness behind. Her flavors dance across my tongue when I fuck it into her.
Tight fingers grip the longer strands at the top of my head, keeping me snug to her cunt, like I’d ever want to pull away.
Sneaking my hand between us, I drift back to her clit, circling the sensitive nub in a lazy pattern, working her higher into her pleasure.
I work a finger into her tight canal, then two, and when her cunt stops squeezing the life out of my digits, a third.
It’s enough to fill her and get her over the edge.
My slow assault on her clit changes gears, ramping up the pressure to match the steady thrust of my fingers. My scalp stings as her nails cut across the sensitive flesh, and the pain leads straight to my leaking cock.
Her breathing stutters.
Her cunt squeezes my fingers, trying to milk them like she’ll be doing to my cock as soon as she tips over the edge.
“Pierce, I’m going to come. Right, there. God, don’t fucking stop.”
Her words turn to gibberish before a keening moan rips through the house. She explodes under me. Quaking and drenching my stubbled chin. I work her through it until she twitches in my arms.
“Now you can have my cock, Princess. But hold on because it’s going to be hard and it’s going to be fast.”