Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Leonid
Laurel is asleep in my bed, curled on her side under the heavy duvet, breathing slow and even. We got back from the hospital a few hours ago, her blood pressure finally stabilized after two days of IV meds, monitoring, and insistence from every doctor on the floor that she rest.
She’s fine now. The baby’s fine. But the worry still sits like lead in my chest. I can’t shake the image of her pale face in that hospital bed, the way her hand kept drifting protectively to her stomach every time she’s worried.
I’m glad she agreed to come live here, even if we both called it “for a while.” She thinks it’s temporary. I know better. There’s no fucking way I’m letting her go back to that apartment. Not now. Not ever. This is where she belongs, here, in my bed, in my home. Our home.
The thought settles something deep inside me, something restless and jagged that’s been clawing at me since the day she walked away.
I sit on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle her, and brush a strand of hair off her face. Her lashes flutter but don’t open. My hand drifts lower, palm settling gently over the still-flat curve of her belly. Our baby. I still can’t quite believe it.
I wasn’t part of Alexei’s pregnancy because I didn’t know about it. But this time is different. With this child, I’ll be there for every step. For every appointment, every night, every moment until the baby is born.
Life gave me a second chance with them, and I’m not about to fuck it up. I’ll protect them both with everything I have.
I lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. She sighs in her sleep, shifting closer, and I let myself linger for a moment, breathing her in, feeling the warmth of her skin against my lips.
Then I stand, quietly, and slip out of the room.
Alexei’s door is cracked open, I push it wider and step inside. He’s sprawled across his bed, one arm flung out, stuffed rocket clutched in his fist.
When we came home from the hospital and told him Laurel was staying, and that he was going to have a little brother or sister, his face lit up like I’d never seen. Eyes wide, grin huge, the kind of pure joy kids are supposed to have.
He hugged her so tight she laughed, then hugged me, then asked if he could help pick the baby’s name. I’ve never seen him so happy. I close the door silently and head down the hall to my office.
The room is dark except for the glow of the monitors. I drop into the chair, pull up the latest shipment reports from the docks.
I’m neck-deep in spreadsheets, when the bedroom door opens with a soft creak.
My head snaps up instantly. Laurel stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of my black dress shirts, unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem skimming the tops of her thighs.
Her hair is sleep-tousled, eyes still heavy-lidded, but there’s a small pout on her lips that tells me she’s not happy.
I push my chair back and stand immediately. “Something wrong? Are you okay?”
She crosses the room barefoot, until she’s right in front of me. One small hand presses flat against my chest, right over my heart.
“Let me think,” she says softly. “I woke up and the bed was empty beside me. So no, I’m not okay.”
Relief crashes through me so hard I almost laugh. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in, burying my face in her hair for a second just to breathe her in, vanilla, her. She fits against me perfectly.
“I had to get some work done,” I murmur into her hair. “But you should go back to bed.”
She rubs her chest against mine, slow, teasing, and tilts her head up, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Make me.”
“Solnyshko…”
Her lower lip catches between her teeth, that little move she knows drives me insane. “How about you come back to bed with me?”
My cock twitches instantly. “Fine, but we’re just going to sleep,” I warn, even though my hands are already sliding down to grip her ass through the thin fabric of my shirt.
She groans, needy. “Why not? It’s been three weeks. Three weeks is too long, if you ask me.”
I chuckle low in my throat, fingers flexing against her. “Trust me, I know. But the doctor said no stress.”
She presses harder against my chest, pouting. “The doctor also said I need to be relaxed.”
I smile rubbing the pad of my thumb along her lower lip. “Solnyshko, I’m sure we can find safer ways to help you relax.”
She wrinkles her nose adorably. “You think sex isn’t safe?”
“The doctor said not to stress you,” I repeat, voice dropping. “I don’t want to do anything that could put you or the baby at risk.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sex isn’t going to put the baby at risk. You can research it. It’s entirely safe.”
Before I can argue, she reaches behind me, snatches my phone off the desk, and hands it to me.
I lean back against the edge of the desk, caging her between my legs, watching her with raised brows.
“Okay.” I take the phone and type: pregnant woman having sex.
The second the results load, I know I’ve made a mistake.
Laurel bursts out laughing and snatches the phone from my hand. “Oh my God,” she says, still laughing. “At least now you know it’s possible.”
I groan and snatch the phone back. “Enough.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound I’ve missed so much. “At least now we can refer to some of those positions when I get bigger.”
I growl low, tossing the phone onto the desk. “You’re trouble.”
She bites her lip again, eyes dancing. “Your trouble.”
Fucking right.
She crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them up against the half-unbuttoned fabric, and tilts her head.
“You either take me back to bed right now, Mr. Volkov, and give me a mind-blowing orgasm,” she says, voice low and teasing, “or I go back there and give it to myself.”
My cock jumps so hard it hurts.
I pull her closer, mouth crashing down on hers, deep, hungry. My hands slide under the shirt, palms gliding over bare skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She moans into my mouth, hips rocking forward, seeking friction.
I break the kiss just enough to rasp against her lips, “You only come by my cock,” I growl against her ear, “my hand, my tongue, or any other means I allow. Is that clear?”
She bites her lower lip, slow, and nods. “Okay.” Her voice is breathy, already trembling with anticipation.
“So…” She leans in, lips brushing my jaw. “Are you going to do it now, or are we going to talk all night?”
I growl, low, feral, and scoop her up in one motion, her legs wrapping around my waist instantly. “That pretty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
She laughs soft, delighted she’s finally getting what she wants. I carry her down the hall to our bedroom. Our. Fuck, I love the sound of that.
I kick the door shut behind us, lower her onto the bed, and follow her down. I’ve been starving for her for weeks, and now I have to control the urge to get too rough with her.
I start with her mouth, kissing her deep, slow, tasting the sweetness of her.
She moans into me, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer.
I drag my lips down her throat, sucking lightly at the spot that makes her gasp, then lower, nipping the swell of her breast through the shirt, wetting the fabric until it clings transparently to her nipple.
I rip the shirt open, buttons popping, scattering across the floor, and take her breast into my mouth. Tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch. She cries out, needy, hands fisting the sheets.
“Leonid—”
I switch to the other nipple, sucking hard while my hand slides down her stomach, parting her thighs. She’s already soaked, hot, dripping for me. I groan against her skin, fingers circling her clit once, twice, then sliding lower to push two inside her.
She bucks, moaning my name like a prayer.
I work her slowly at first, curling my fingers, stroking that spot that makes her thighs shake, then faster, thumb pressing her clit in tight circles. Her hips rock desperately, chasing my hand, breath coming in short, broken gasps.
I pull my fingers free right as she starts to tremble. She whimpers, frustrated, desperate.
“Not yet,” I murmur, kissing down her stomach, spreading her thighs wider. “First I want you on my tongue.”
I settle between her legs, hook them over my shoulders, and drag my tongue through her folds, slow, long, savoring every drop of her. She tastes like heaven, sweet, mine. I circle her clit, flick it, suck it into my mouth and hum. She cries out, hips jerking, hands flying to my hair.
“Leonid…. I…. please—”
I don’t let up, lapping at her, fucking her with my tongue, sucking her clit until she’s shaking, sobbing, begging.
“Come now, baby,” I growl against her.
She shatters, back bowing, thighs clamping around my head, gushing against my tongue as she screams my name. I drink her down, licking her through every aftershock until she’s trembling, oversensitive, gasping for air.
I crawl up her body, kissing every inch of skin I pass, her stomach, her breasts, her throat, until I’m hovering over her, cock throbbing against her wet entrance.
“My turn,” I rasp.
I sink into her in one slow, deep thrust.
She’s tight, hot, wet, perfect, and we both groan at the feel of it. Home. She’s my home. Every inch of her wrapped around me feels like coming back to the only place I belong.
I start moving, slow at first, savoring every drag, every flutter of her walls, then harder, deeper, hips snapping forward until the headboard thumps against the wall.
She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me on.
“Harder,” she gasps. “Please—harder—”
I give it to her, fucking her into the mattress, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip so tight I’ll leave marks. She’s moaning, loud, broken, beautiful, nails raking down my back, leaving red trails I’ll wear like badges tomorrow.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her throat. “This pussy is mine. This body is mine. This lips—” I kiss her hard, swallowing her cry as I slam in deeper. “These lips are mine too.”
She sobs my name, over and over, clenching around me so tight I see stars. But I can’t let go just yet, I need her to have at least one more orgasm.
“Come solnyshko,” I order. “Come all over my cock. Let me feel it.”
I bring my hand between us, circling her clit, and she comes screaming, body convulsing, walls pulsing so hard it drags me over the edge with her.
I bury myself deep and come, growling her name, spilling inside her, hips grinding like I can fuse us together forever.
We collapse, sweaty, shaking, tangled. I pull her against my chest. I kiss her temple, her cheek, and her lips.
“How are you feeling?” I murmur against her skin.
She sighs, long, contented, already half-asleep. “Fantastic.”
I smile, brushing hair off her damp forehead. “Relaxed enough to get back to sleep?”
Her eyes are already drooping, heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yes…”
I kiss her forehead. “Go to sleep, solnyshko. I love you.”
She hums something soft, incoherent, already slipping under.
I hold her close, chest to chest, legs tangled, my hand resting protectively over her.
She’s here, back where she belongs. And I’m never letting her go.