10. GAVIN #2
"Georgie?" I lean forward, free hand cupping her face. "Come on, baby. Open your eyes for me."
Her eyelids flutter. Once, twice. Then they part, revealing blue irises hazy with confusion and medication. She blinks up at me, focus gradually sharpening.
"Gavin?" Her voice comes out scratchy, underused. "What—where am I?"
"Hospital. You fainted at the warehouse after I got you out." My thumb strokes across her cheekbone, gentle despite the violence still humming through my veins. "Doctor says you're fine. Both of you are fine."
Understanding crashes over her features. Her free hand flies to her stomach, pressing there like she can feel through skin and muscle to confirm. "You know?"
"Yeah. Doctor told me."
Tears well up, spilling over before she can stop them. They track down her temples, catching in her hair. A sob breaks free, then another, and suddenly she's crying in earnest—ugly, gulping sobs that shake her whole frame.
"Hey, hey." I'm up, sitting on the edge of the bed, gathering her against my chest. "It's okay. You're okay."
"I'm sorry." The words come muffled against my shirt. "I didn't mean to—I was trying to tell you in the warehouse, but then everything went sideways, and I passed out before I could?—"
"Stop." I cup the back of her head, holding her close. "You have nothing to apologize for."
"But you said you wanted to get me pregnant, and I thought you meant it, but what if you were just talking dirty? What if you don't actually want this?" More tears soak through fabric. "I'm only twenty, and I'm still in school, and I don't know how to be a mom, and?—"
"Georgie." I pull back just enough to tilt her face up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Look at me."
She does, those baby blues swimming with tears and fear and hope all tangled together.
"I meant every word." The truth comes easier than expected, straightforward and simple. "Every single thing I said about putting my baby in you, about watching your belly grow, about making you mine—I meant all of it."
"Really?"
"Really. You think I'd say shit I don't mean? Especially something like that?" I brush away her tears with my thumbs, careful and deliberate. "I'm not a good man, Georgie. Never claimed to be. But I don't lie to you. Won't ever lie to you."
Fresh tears spill over, but these look different. Happier, maybe. Relieved. "I was so scared you'd be angry."
"Angry?" The word tastes foreign. "Why the fuck would I be angry about this?"
"Because it's fast. Because we haven't known each other that long. Because?—"
"Because nothing." I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. "You're mine. Have been since that first night. This baby just makes it official."
She laughs through her tears, watery and broken. "That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Your standards are shit."
"Maybe." Her hand comes up, palm resting against my jaw. Fingers trace the line of my stubble, tender and exploratory. "But you're mine too. Even if you are a grumpy criminal who kidnapped me and then seduced me by sucking my tits."
"You asked me to."
"Details." She's smiling now, small but genuine. "I was compromised by pain and lactation."
"You called me daddy."
Pink floods her cheeks. "You told me to."
"After you said it first." I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. Press a kiss to her knuckles, then her palm, then the inside of her wrist where her pulse flutters. "You came so hard you nearly blacked out."
"Gavin." The protest holds no heat, just embarrassment mixed with something darker. Want, maybe. Desire that pregnancy and near-death haven't managed to kill.
"Say it again."
"Daddy?" She tests the word, watching my reaction. My cock stirs predictably, still responsive despite the hospital setting and everything that's happened. "You like it too much."
"You love that I like it."
"Maybe." That smile grows, turning mischievous despite the tears still drying on her face. "Guess we'll have lots of practice before the baby comes."
The baby. Our baby. The reality settles deeper, becoming more solid with each mention. In a few months, there'll be a tiny person who's half me, half her. A combination of our DNA, our features, our fucked-up circumstances.
Terrifying. Absolutely fucking terrifying.
And I want it more than my next breath.
"We'll figure it out." The promise comes without hesitation. "School, baby, all of it. You'll finish your degree. I'll make sure of it."
"You can't just throw money at every problem."
"Watch me." I tug her closer, careful of the IV. "You want that bookstore someday? Consider it done. Want to raise the baby in the house? We'll baby-proof everything. Need help with late-night feedings? I'll be there."
"You're serious."
"Completely. You're having my baby, Georgie. Our baby. That changes everything."
More tears, but she's smiling through them now. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."
"You existed." Simple truth. "You walked into my life with your smart mouth and your curves and your fucking freckles, and that was it. Game over. I was done."
"You kidnapped me."
"Semantics."
"You threatened my classmate."
"He was harassing you." My jaw clenches at the memory. "Nobody touches what's mine."
"Caveman."
"Your caveman." I lean in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns demanding. She opens for me immediately, tongue sliding against mine with a sweetness that makes my chest ache. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. "My girl. My baby. Mine."
"Yours." She echoes, and the word sounds like a vow. "But that goes both ways, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"It means you're mine too. No other women. No?—"
"Georgie." I cut her off, thumb pressing against her lips. "There's nobody else. Hasn't been since I first saw you. Won't ever be."
"Promise?"
"Promise." The vow comes easily, true down to my bones. "You and this baby—you're my whole fucking world now."
She melts against me, face buried in my neck. We stay like that for long minutes, just breathing together, existing in this small pocket of peace before the real world intrudes again. Before we have to figure out logistics and security and how to explain a baby to the criminal empire I run.
None of it matters right now. Just her warmth against me, her heartbeat steady and sure, the knowledge that she's carrying our child.
"Gavin?" Her voice comes muffled.
"Yeah, baby?"
"I love you."
The words hit like a physical blow. Three simple syllables that rearrange everything, make the world tilt on its axis and realign around a new center of gravity.
"Say that again." My voice comes out rough, raw.
She pulls back, meeting my eyes. No hesitation in that blue gaze, no uncertainty.
"I love you. I'm in love with you. Have been for a while, probably since you milked me that first time and looked at me like I was something precious.
" Her hand finds mine, squeezing tight. "I know it's fast, and I know it's crazy, but I can't help it.
You make me feel safe and cherished and?—"
I kiss her before she can finish, pouring everything I don't have words for into the contact. She gasps against my mouth, arms coming up to circle my neck. The kiss goes deep, thorough, claiming in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with souls recognizing each other.
When we finally break apart, my heart pounds like I've run miles.
"I love you too." The confession comes easier than expected, like the words have been waiting for permission to exist. "Never said that to anyone before. Never felt it like this—like you're necessary, like breathing. But I do. I love you, Georgie. Love you so fucking much it terrifies me."
She's crying again, happy tears this time. "Really?"
"Really." I thumb away the moisture, gentle despite the violence still humming under my skin. "You and this baby—you're everything now. My whole world. I'd burn down cities for you. Kill anyone who looks at you wrong. Rebuild the entire empire just to keep you safe."
"That's definitely the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Still think your standards are shit."
"Good thing you're planning to stick around and raise them." She presses another kiss to my jaw, then my neck, then the corner of my mouth. Each one feels like a brand, marking me as thoroughly as I've marked her. "I love you."
"I love you."