36. Dane Gallagher #2
“Fine,” she says, breathless. “Look at me however you want... but let me have that dick while you do it.”
I huff a quiet breath against her skin. “I see that naughty tongue of yours hasn’t been tamed while we were apart.”
“Not even slightly.”
“Good. I like your naughty tongue very much.”
I take my time with her. The urgency I carried for six months hasn’t disappeared, but it’s changed shape. It’s still there, still charged, just deeper now.
I press my mouth to her neck, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. She holds onto my shoulders, moving with me.
Then she makes a sharp sound, her breath catching.
I stop immediately. “Did that hurt? Did I do something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” She lets out a breath that turns into a small laugh. “The baby kicked. It just surprised me.”
She takes my hand and guides it to her stomach.
I feel it then. A slow, rolling movement beneath my palm.
I go completely still. Then it happens again.
Something tightens in my chest so suddenly it catches me off guard.
When I look back at her, she’s already watching me.
My vision blurs.
I don’t understand how it’s possible to feel this much this quickly, but I do. I already love this child with a fierceness I can't explain. And I know, without question, that I'll protect this baby with the same instinct that makes me protect Charlotte.
“You’re not going to hurt him,” she says.
The last word catches.
“Him?”
She winces.
“Oh, damn. I was going to surprise you.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You’ve surprised me plenty already.” I search her face for a second. “It’s a boy?”
She nods, smiling. “It’s a boy.”
I look at her. Then at my hand resting on her stomach. At the curve of her carrying him.
“Another son.”
Her hand comes up to my face, and I lean into it without thinking.
“You’ve made me so happy.”
The words come out rougher than I intended.
Then I kiss her again. This time there’s no holding back.
Not reckless.
Not careless.
Just complete.
I move with her, slower at first, then deeper, the restraint slipping just enough. She meets me with it, her hands tightening at my back, her breath breaking against my shoulder.
“Dane—”
I bury my face against her neck, the weight of the months apart finally breaking.
It builds steadily, not rushed, just inevitable. Her body tightens around me, her nails pressing into my back, her breath catching.
I sense it before she makes a sound—the way she tightens around me, sudden and deep, pulling me in as it moves through her.
“Oh God, Dane. I’m coming.”
She feels different. The pregnancy has changed her in ways I hadn’t expected.
I thrust a fraction deeper, and she tightens again, sharper this time, and her breath breaks against my shoulder. “Ahh… Dane.”
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her skin. “I’ve always got you.”
Her hips move, chasing the feeling. I keep my weight off her, steady above her, letting her set the pace.
Letting her have exactly what she needs.
I feel all of it—the tremble in her body, her fingers at my back, the quiet sounds she can’t quite hold in.
I breathe her in through it all.
Her skin.
Her hair.
The familiar warmth of her.
My forehead comes to rest against her shoulder, my eyes closing for a second as I let myself hold on to the moment. She shudders one last time, then slowly relaxes beneath me.
It takes me a minute to come back from it myself.
I don’t move straight away. I just stay there, close to her, making sure she’s okay.
Her hand slides up the back of my neck, her body loose and relaxed now.
“God, I missed you,” she says.
“I know.” I press a kiss to her shoulder. “I missed you too.”
We shift slowly, neither of us in a hurry to break the contact. I ease onto my side and guide her with me, one arm slipping around her middle as she settles in front of me.
She fits there easily, back to my chest, my body curved around hers. I adjust the pillows, make sure she’s comfortable, then pull her in closer, my hand spreading over the curve of her stomach, holding her there.
We lie like that, quiet, breathing in sync.
Our son moves under my palm—a lazy roll, completely unaware of what he's doing to me.
“He’s big,” I say, more to myself than anything.
Charlotte laughs. “Because he’s almost ready to hatch.”
I still for a second, then my mind starts working it through, lining everything up. “When did this happen?”
“Based on my due date, I think he was conceived when we were on the yacht. I’m guessing during your little fit of jealousy about a hypothetical man.”
“You mean when you were deliberately provoking me.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “I provoked you so hard you put a baby in me.”
“Did you know when you left Brisbane?”
“No.” She settles back into me. “I found out a few weeks after we got here. At first I kept looking for another explanation—anything that made more sense—but eventually I ran out of those.”
She pauses, then exhales slowly. “It was hard not telling you. Every time we spoke, I was holding it in, and—” She trails off. “It was a lot to carry on my own.”
The baby shifts again beneath my hand.
“Your mum figured it out not long after we got here. I couldn’t hide it forever.” There’s a small smile in her voice. “She’s been incredible, Dane. Better than I expected. You should know that.”
“I’m glad she was here for you when I couldn’t be.”
My hand drifts to her stomach, settling there. I can’t seem to stop touching her. “They’ve checked everything? He’s healthy?”
“Everything’s fine.” No hesitation. “He’s perfect. They’ve run every test they can. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be while he’s still inside me.”
“They’re certain there are no genetic issues?”
She turns her head slightly toward me. “He’s perfect. I would tell you if he wasn’t.”
I nod, but it doesn’t fully settle.
“And you?” I ask. “You’re okay this time?”
“I’m okay. The midwife says everything’s exactly how it should be.”
The worry doesn’t leave. It probably won’t. It just settles into the background—a quiet, constant question about what shared blood might mean, whether it changes anything.
Maybe that’s what this is. Being a parent. Carrying the worry even when you’re told not to.
I don’t push it. Don’t give it more weight.
I keep my hand where it is and feel him move again. It’s… unbelievable. There’s no better word for it.
She shifts slightly against me, deliberate this time. “Christina and Marcus and the girls are here. They’ll be back soon. Do you have another round in you before they get back?”
I let out a quiet breath against her hair. “After six months apart?” A small pause. “I’ve got plenty.”
The sound of voices drifts around the side of the cottage.
A moment later, Mum comes around the corner with Marcus, Zara, and Isla behind her.
Her eyes find me immediately.
She stops for a second—just a flicker—then closes the distance and pulls me into a hug.
I hold onto her.
Six months is six months. Whatever’s between us, she’s still my mother. She’s been here for Charlotte. For my son. She’s here now.
That’s enough.
“I’ve missed you,” she says into my shoulder.
“I’ve missed you too.” I pull back and look at her. “Thank you. For being here—for them—when I couldn’t be.”
“She didn’t need much taking care of. She really is...” She hesitates, then smiles. “Extraordinary.”
“I know.”
Isla comes next.
Her hug is brief and slightly awkward, like she’s reached the age where she’s not entirely sure what to do with affection anymore.
“Good to see you,” I tell her.
She nods. “You too.”
Then Zara is there.
No hesitation. No restraint.
She launches herself at me, arms around my neck, and I catch her easily, lifting her off the ground.
“You’re finally here!”
“I am.”
“Charlotte’s having a baby.”
I laugh. “I know.”
“The baby is a boy.”
“I know that too.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously.
“Are you excited?”
“Very.”
“Have you picked a name yet? Charlotte said you’d decide together.”
“We haven’t had that conversation yet. But you’ll be the first to know when we do.”
“Okay. Good.”
I set her down, and she’s gone immediately, already moving on to whatever has her attention next as she heads inside.
Marcus hangs back.
“Good to see you,” he says.
“Good to see you too.” I pause. “And thanks for everything. I know it hasn’t been easy with Mum here.”
He shrugs. “That’s family. We take care of each other.”
I nod once and head in after them.
Mum and Charlotte share a look.
Then Mum turns to the girls.
“Why don’t you go play outside for a bit while your dad and I catch up with Dane and Charlotte?”
Zara is already moving before she finishes the sentence. Isla lingers for a moment, taking in the room, then follows her out.
Marcus moves to the window and looks out toward the beach.
Charlotte sits beside me, and I take her hand without thinking. I've barely stopped touching her since I got here. Every time she's out of arm's reach, I find myself reaching for her again.
Mum settles into the chair across from us. “I’m glad you’re finally here. Charlotte’s missed you.”
“I’ve missed her too.”
She looks down at her hands, then back at me.
“Charlotte and I have talked. She told me everything.” A small pause. “All of it.”
She holds my gaze.
“Whatever exists between you two, that belongs to you. Not me. Not anyone else.”
“The law might see it differently.”
She shakes her head. “Only if you’re siblings. And you’re not.”
I look at her, searching for the right way to say what comes next.
There isn’t one.
“I wish I was wrong about this.”
I look at Mum and feel my stomach knot.
“But I’m not.”
A breath.
“Tara and Dad were having an affair. Charlotte is Dad’s daughter.”
Something changes in her expression.
Not shock. Not sadness.
Resolve.
“I had my suspicions about the affair. Charlotte confirmed what I already knew.” A pause. “But Dane... you and Charlotte aren’t siblings.”
I stare at her.
“Because Mitchell isn’t your father.”
The words don't make sense.