Chapter Fourteen #2
I’m trembling—legs locked around him, arms wrapped tight across his back, nails digging half-moons into his skin. The aftershocks ripple through me, sharp and sweet, and I can’t stop the words that spill out.
“Yes—yes, Rafe, I feel it. So full. So much of you.” My heart squeezes inside my chest. “I’m yours. Completely yours.”
He doesn’t pull out. Instead he rolls us carefully so I’m tucked against his chest, his cock buried deep, softening but not leaving. His hand slides down to rest over my lower belly—wide, warm, possessive.
“Right here.” His thumb strokes slow circles. “Our future. Already starting.”
I cover his hand with mine. The skin is still flushed, still sensitive. I can feel the faint throb of him inside me, the slow leak of his release as my body tries to hold on to every bit. It’s messy. It’s perfect.
Tears prick my eyes—not from pain, not from fear. From an emotion far bigger.
“I was quiet for so long.” My voice is hoarse but steady. “I forgot what it felt like to say anything at all. And now I can’t stop. I love you. I love this. I love that you made me feel safe enough to speak again.”
He kisses my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth.
“You didn’t just speak tonight,” he says softly. “You claimed me. You claimed us. I’ve never heard anything more beautiful.”
I laugh—a small, shaky sound—and press my forehead to his.
“I want more,” I tell him. “Not tonight—maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after. But I want to keep saying it. I want to keep feeling it. I want to wake up every morning knowing there’s a piece of you growing inside me.”
His arms tighten.
“Then we’ll make sure of it,” he promises. “As many times as it takes. Twins. Triplets. A whole damn clan of our own. Whatever you want, wife.”
I smile against his skin.
“Start with one,” I say. “And when he’s here, we’ll carve another cradle. And another. Until this cabin is full of them.”
He chuckles—low, warm, the sound rumbling through both of us.
“Deal.”
For a long moment neither of us speaks.
The fire pops softly. The wind sighs against the cabin walls. Rafe’s hand stays firm against my belly, mine stays over his, and I let the quiet settle—not the old hush of fear, but something new. Something chosen. Peace.
I close my eyes.
His heartbeat slows under my cheek.
His cock gives one last lazy twitch inside me.
And I think, clear as anything:
This is home.
This is mine.
This is ours.
The cabin is quiet now except for the soft crackle of the dying fire and the slow rhythm of Rafe’s breathing against my hair.
He’s still inside me—half-hard, still leaking the last slow pulses of his release—and neither of us has moved to change that.
His arm is heavy across my waist, hand splayed protectively over the low curve of my belly like he’s already guarding what might be growing there.
I don’t mind. I like the weight. The reminder.
My thighs are sticky. My core aches in the best way—stretched, used, claimed. Every small shift sends a fresh trickle of him sliding out of me and I can’t help the tiny, satisfied hum that escapes my throat. Not a word this time. Just sound. Just feeling.
I turn my head and kiss the underside of his jaw.
“You’re leaking out of me,” I whisper.
He chuckles—low, sleepy, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine.
“Good. Means I did my job right.” His thumb strokes once, slow and deliberate, right over the spot where his cock is nestled deep. “Gonna keep you like this a while. Let it settle. Let your body know who it belongs to.”
I smile against his skin.
“It already knows.”
We stay that way—tangled, warm, quiet—for what feels like forever and no time at all.
The firelight dims to embers. Outside, the wind whistles through the pines.
I listen to it and realize I’m not afraid of the hush anymore.
This silence isn’t empty. It’s full—of him, of us, of the life we just started making.
My fingers trace lazy patterns on his forearm.
“Do you think it took?” I ask softly.
He kisses the top of my head.
“If it didn’t tonight, we’ll try again tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.” His voice drops, rough with promise. “I’m not stopping until you’re round and heavy and glowing with our child. Until every cradle in this cabin has a name carved into it.”
I laugh—quiet, a bit undone.
“Good.” I trace lazy circles on his arm. “I want to feel you for days. I want to still be leaking you when you hand me the next one.”
“Already planning it, sweet girl,” he says. “Maple this time. Stronger grain. More room for twins.”
I twist to look up at him. His eyes are half-lidded, soft in the dying light, but still burning with that same fierce devotion I saw the first night he carried me home.
“Twins,” I repeat, tasting the word. “You really want that?”
“I want everything you’ll give me,” he answers simply. “One. Two. Ten. Doesn’t matter. Long as they’re ours.”
My throat tightens—not with old fear, but an emotion bright and overwhelming.
“I used to think I’d never have this,” I whisper. “A husband. A home. A future. I thought the only thing I’d ever carry was scars.”
He shifts, sliding his hand up to cup my cheek.
“You carry more than scars now,” he says. “You carry my name. My tie. My child—maybe already. And every word you speak is proof you survived everything they tried to take from you.”
“I love you,” I tell him. No hesitation. No rasp. Just truth.
He kisses me—slow, deep, tender. When he pulls back his eyes are shining.
“Love you too, wife. More than the mountain. More than the moon. More than anything.”
I settle against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. His hand returns to my belly. I cover it with mine. Nothing about this feels taken. Everything feels given.
The fire pops once, softly.
The wind sighs.
And in the hush that follows—chosen, peaceful, ours—I let myself believe it.
Tomorrow we’ll rise.
Tomorrow we’ll live.
Tomorrow we’ll keep making this life, one breath, one word, one child at a time.
But tonight we just stay here.
Full.
Safe.
Together.