Epilogue #2
I stood by the foot of our bed, wrapped in a thin navy silk robe that fell to my knees, my damp curls loose over my collarbones.
He didn't say a word.
He closed the distance between us, his massive frame blotting out the moonlight, his hands coming out to bracket my waist with that familiar, bruising warmth. He lifted me effortlessly off the floor, carrying my body three steps backward, and laid me down in the center of the dark linen sheets.
The mattress groaned softly beneath his weight as he climbed over me, his broad forearms settling on either side of my head, trapping me in the heavy, unyielding sanctuary of his chest.
Killian looked down at my face, his breath hot and mint-sharp against my parted lips.
"Three points tonight, Gregory," he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that settled in the hollow of my throat. "And all I could think about on the bench was getting my hands back on your skin."
A soft, breathless laugh escaped my mouth, my hands sliding up to frame his jaw, my thumbs tracing the rough stubble along his cheek.
"You played like an animal in the second period," I whispered.
"I only play like an animal out there so I can come home and be gentle with you," he rasped.
His hand reached for the silk tie at my waist, tugging the knot free with a single, deliberate flick of his fingers.
The robe parted, spilling open across the dark sheets.
Killian POV
The silver light through the balcony glass washed over her skin in waves of pale silk, illuminating the soft, sacred contours of her body.
I didn't rush. I had spent three years learning every millimeter of her ribs, every sensitive nerve path along her hip bones, every tiny hitch in her breath that signaled the surrender of her pride.
I lowered my chest onto hers, skin meeting skin in a slow, searing friction that chased the chill of the arena clean out of my blood.
Nadia arched into my weight with an involuntary, soft moan, her small hands sliding over my back, her fingernails pressing into the thick slabs of muscle beneath my shoulder blades.
Her legs parted on instinct, her thighs wrapping around my hips, pulling me into the cradle of her body with that familiar, fierce hunger that matched the madness in my own chest.
"Look at me, Nadia," I commanded, my voice dropping into that dark, low gravel that belonged only to her.
Her honey-brown eyes opened, wide, dark, and drowning in the heat between our mouths.
"Good girl," I murmured, my lips trailing slow, burning kisses along the line of her jaw, mapping down to the wild pulse point hammering beneath her ear. "My wife. Look at you. Look at what you've built for me."
My large hand slid down from her waist, my calloused palm settling flat over the smooth expanse of her lower abdomen.
I paused.
Beneath the soft skin beneath her navel, a subtle, unmistakable warmth rested against my palm. A quiet, familiar rhythm that I recognized with an instinct so primal it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
My breath locked in my throat.
I lifted my head, my dark eyes searching hers in the blue moonlight.
Nadia looked up at me, a soft, secret smile curving her lips, her eyes glittering with unshed tears of pure, unshakeable joy. Her small hand came down over mine, her fingers pressing my palm firmer against the gentle curve of her belly.
"Clara needs a teammate, Killian," she whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion so vast it filled every corner of the dark room.
A sharp, violent convulsion seized my windpipe.
A father. Again.
Another life, born of the fire and the ice, sheltered safely behind the walls of the fortress we had built out of the cold.
A rough, broken sound tore from my throat as I lowered my head, pressing my mouth flat against the center of her belly, kissing the skin with a desperate, worshipful reverence that shook my entire frame.
"Good girl," I wept softly against her skin, my large hands framing her hips, holding her like she was the only sacred thing on this earth. "My brilliant, beautiful girl. Look at what you're giving me."
Nadia’s fingers tangled into my dark hair, her hands pulling my face back up to hers, her mouth meeting mine in an unhurried, devastating kiss that sealed our souls together in the dark.
I entered her with agonizing slowness, my hips moving in a deep, rhythmic, protective cadence that drove every lingering shadow from the world.
She met every stroke with breathless sighs and soft cries of my name, her legs locked around my waist, her heart beating against my sternum until there was not a single millimeter of separation left between our lives.
When the release broke over us, it was a long, warm tide of pure peace that rippled through our nervous systems in synchronized, trembling waves.
I collapsed over her, keeping my heavy frame anchored, my face buried in the crook of her neck, my arms locked like iron bands around her back as our breathing slowed in the quiet midnight air.
Nadia tangled her fingers in the short hair at my nape, her cheek resting against the scar on my collarbone, her small hand resting flat over my heart.
"I love you, Killian," she whispered into the darkness of our bedroom, the words steady as the granite bluffs outside. "From the very first day."
I tightened my hold on her waist, pressing my lips to the hollow of her throat, feeling the indestructible, quiet rhythm of our family sleeping safely beneath our roof.
"You saved my life, Nadia," I rasped, my voice thick with an eternal, unshakeable devotion that would outlast the ice, the trophies, and the world itself. "From that cold hallway in Barrow to this bed tonight... you are my only home."
Outside, the autumn wind rustled softly through the hemlocks, carrying the scent of cedar across the lake.
The storm had passed.
The ice had melted.
And we were home forever.