16. Isaac #4
I strip off my clothes - too fast, probably - and I try to settle over her.
I go for the instinctual move, trying to hover above her, but the moment I shift, the reality of her belly hits me.
It’s a beautiful, stubborn barrier between us, making the angle awkward, pushing me away just as I’m trying to get close.
I fumble for a second, my balance off, feeling a flash of genuine panic that I can’t actually get to her.
Chantal lets out a soft, breathless laugh. She reaches up, grabs my shoulders, and gently rolls onto her side, pulling me down with her.
“Here,” she whispers, guiding my body to fit against hers. “Like this.”
I slide in behind her, our bodies slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. I’m curled around her, my chest pressed to her back, my hand immediately finding the warm, stretched skin of her belly, cradling it as I press against the wetness of her entrance.
“Are you sure? We can stop-”
“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”
“Noted.” My voice barely works. “Formally noted.”
I guide myself to her opening and push inside.
And for a moment, I can’t breathe. She is so tight it feels like she’s molding herself around me, squeezing me. I’m buried deep, the heat of her enveloping me completely, the friction of our hips meeting in this side-lying tangle making my head spin.
There’s a version of this where a judge reads it. Where Caroline swears to it, where somebody says tonight’s date out loud in a courtroom, where every ugly thing they invented turns out to be true a few weeks late.
Let them. Let them all. I’d sign the affidavit myself.
She’s warm and perfect. I shift my weight, reaching around her to find her face, my fingers brushing her cheek.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
“I’m-” The words snag. I try again. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I don’t want to miss any of it.”
“Then don’t.”
I begin to move. Slow, deep thrusts that bottom out inside her.
I keep my hand firmly on her belly, feeling the life inside her while I hold the woman carrying it.
I pick up the pace, the sound of our skin meeting filling the room.
I can feel her inner muscles clamping down on me, milking me with every stroke.
I lean forward, straining to see her, my voice a guttural growl. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
I have to practically drape myself over her to catch her gaze, and when she turns her head, her eyes lock onto mine - raw and honest. I drive into her harder, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I can feel the pressure building, the inevitable explosion of five years of repressed longing.
I watch her fall apart again, her body tightening around me, her nails biting into the sheets as she peaks. The feeling of her coming around me is the most intense thing I’ve ever felt. It triggers me, and I let go, spilling into her with a groan torn out of somewhere I didn’t know I had.
I stay there, buried in her, my face in the crook of her neck, saying her name over and over like it’s the only word I know.
***
After.
Later - minutes, maybe more - she rolls to face me, and I let her, and the room rearranges itself around the fact that I’m allowed to look at her now.
We lie tangled together, sweaty and spent and stupid with endorphins. Her fingers find the scar on my forearm - skin to skin this time, no shirt between us - and trace it slowly.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” she murmurs, “since the night you wouldn’t let me.”
“I let you. Through the shirt.”
“Not the same.”
“No,” I agree, watching her fingertip follow the old line. “Not the same.”
The baby kicks against my palm, still resting on her belly.
“I want to be there when she’s born,” I say into the dark. “If you’ll let me.”
Chantal’s eyes are wet.
“Yes. I want you there.”
“I mean it. Not the waiting room. In the room. Holding your hand. Watching her come into the world.”
“That’s a big commitment.”
“Five years is a bigger one.”
She laughs softly and reaches up to trace my jaw.
“You really have loved me that long.”
“Longer, probably. I just didn’t know what to call it at first.”
“And you never said anything.”
“You were with him. You were happy - or I thought you were.” I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “I wasn’t going to be the guy who ruins a marriage. But I’m not sorry I waited. I would have waited longer.”
“You don’t have to wait anymore.”
“No.” I pull her closer, tucking her against my chest, her heartbeat slowing against mine. “I don’t.”
We’re still tangled together, my hand tracing lazy circles on her hip, when her phone buzzes on the nightstand. The screen lights up the ceiling, harsh and unwelcome, cutting through the dark like a blade.
CEDRICK: My lawyer says you’ve been sleeping with Isaac since before the separation. My sister will swear to it. Enjoy your love nest while it lasts. The second that baby is born, I’m coming for her. I’m going to take everything.
Chantal stares at the message for a long moment.
Then she turns to me, and her expression is steel.
“Let him try.”