Chapter 48 Safe With You
Steam curled around me as I stood beneath the warm spray, the water sliding over my shoulders and down the curve of my stomach. I let my hand drift over it, slow and absentminded, and felt a firm kick from inside.
A soft smile tugged at my lips.
At eight months, I was uncomfortable more often than not, especially at night when she seemed to come alive, stretching and turning like she had endless energy. But I loved it. Every movement was a reassurance. She was there. She was strong.
It still felt unreal sometimes.
I still remembered the day we found out we were having a girl. Knox had grumbled in the doctor’s office, “With a boy, you only have to worry about one penis. With a girl, you have to worry about every penis in the world.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh at the memory, even now.
Then he’d softened and said he didn’t care either way, that he already loved her, and that he’d hire a bodyguard to keep boys away until she was at least twenty.
My hand lingered over the spot where she’d kicked and I glanced down, my rings catching the light through the steam. My engagement ring sat beside my wedding band now.
That still felt new too.
I still thought often about the surprise ceremony three months ago.
I hadn’t known a thing. Knox had just told me he wanted to see me in a white dress before dinner, and I hadn’t thought twice about it. I had laughed, humored him, let him guide me into the car.
Only it hadn’t taken us to dinner.
The gates of the botanical garden had opened instead, and by the time we stepped into the conservatory, I understood. Flowers everywhere, soft light spilling through glass, the air warm and expectant.
My uncles and cousins were there, their kids weaving between them. My grandparents joined through a screen, smiling from miles away. Our closest friends stood nearby.
And Evan.
He stood close to my father, quiet and unsure, his hand wrapped in Brandon’s like he didn’t quite know where to place himself in all of it.
Knox had made sure he was there. Made sure he wasn’t left out.
That mattered more than anything.
After that, we didn’t let too much time pass. We visited when we could, called in between, kept that connection steady. Slowly, without forcing it, something shifted. I found myself caring about him in a way I hadn’t expected.
Brandon had to be there, of course. Evan was still too young. He hadn’t looked good that day, the bankruptcy hollowing something out of him that wasn’t coming back. But that wasn’t my concern anymore. Those were his consequences.
The ceremony itself was small and intimate.
Perfect.
And I had loved every second of it.
The memory lingered for a moment, before the heat of the shower pulled me back. Water ran down my back, the air thick with steam as I reached for the soap and rinsed it away, blinking it out of my eyes.
After washing up, I reached for the razor. My underarms were easy enough, and with some effort I managed my legs, balancing awkwardly against the tile. But the moment I tried to reach anything below my belly, I realized it was hopeless.
I couldn’t see anything past my stomach.
I let out a quiet sigh, giving up as I turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself just as the bathroom door opened.
Knox walked in.
“I can’t shave,” I said immediately, a faint pout slipping into my voice.
He paused just inside the doorway, his gaze dragging slowly over me, taking in the damp hair, the towel, the curve of my stomach. A slow, infuriating smirk followed.
“A little hair isn’t going to scare me away,” he said. “Might even be fun.”
“It’s important to me.”
Something in my tone must have shifted, because the teasing eased out of his expression. He stepped closer, adjusting the towel more securely around me.
“Then I’ll help you,” he said.
I blinked up at him. “You will?”
“Of course.”
His thumb traced slowly along my collarbone, following the damp line of water still clinging to my skin before he leaned in and pressed a kiss just beneath it.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Sit.”
His hands slid to my hips as he lifted me onto the counter. The cool surface met the back of my thighs, making me shift slightly, instinctively steadying myself against his shoulders. His grip tightened, steadying me, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
That brief flicker of self-consciousness barely had time to form before his gaze dropped over me, slow, deliberate, claiming.
He’d made it clear more than once. This body, every change, every inch of it, was his to admire. Carrying his child had only sharpened that edge in him.
He stepped between my knees and pushed them apart without hesitation, his hands sliding up my thighs, holding them there, keeping me open, exposed, his.
“Shaving cream or soap?” he asked, his voice lower now, distracted in a way that made my pulse stutter.
“Shaving cream,” I breathed.
He moved away just long enough to grab what he needed, before returning, already shaking the can before dispensing foam into his palm.
“Lean back,” he said.
I did, bracing one hand behind me as he stepped in again.
“Relax. Hold still.”
I went still as he spread the foam over me, his touch unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
Then he stepped back just enough to rinse his hand before reaching for the razor.
He lowered himself, crouching in front of me so he was level with my pussy , his shoulders brushing lightly against my legs as he settled in.
“Stay still,” he murmured.
I did.
He worked with quiet concentration, one hand pulling the skin taut where needed and the other guiding the razor in slow, careful strokes.
He rinsed the blade and continued until he’d removed every last trace of hair.
Only when he was satisfied did he stop, his hand lingering for a second longer before he reached for the warm cloth and wiped the area clean.
He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to my knee.
“All done,” he said. “Better?”
“I can’t see past your baby,” I muttered, glancing down at my belly.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. His hand slid over the freshly shaved pussy, appreciative.
“You can feel how smooth it is,” he said.
My breath hitched. “Yes.”
He rose to his feet, and I shifted slightly, preparing to slide off the counter. His hand came to my hip at once, stopping me, holding me in place.
“Not yet.”
He stepped in closer, crowding the space between my legs again, his gaze dragging slowly over me.
“You look incredible,” he said, his voice lower now. He leaned in, his mouth brushing the sensitive spot beneath my jaw, slow enough to make me feel it everywhere. My breath caught, my fingers lifting, tangling into his hair without thinking.
Then his mouth found mine.
The kiss deepened almost instantly, his hand sliding up my side until it curved around my breast, testing the weight of it, his thumb brushing slowly over the piercing.
I let out a soft breath against his mouth. My breasts had grown at least a cup size, fuller and heavier, and so much more sensitive than before.
“Be gentle with those,” I murmured when he pulled back just enough to shift lower.
A faint smile touched his lips against my skin, but there was something darker behind it, something that said he wasn’t going to stop.
His mouth followed the line of my collarbone, then lower, making my breath catch again as he took my nipple between his lips. A slow pull. A swirl of his tongue around the piercing.
“I swear,” he murmured against my skin, voice roughened, “they’re getting bigger every day.”
I shivered, my fingers tightening slightly in his hair.
I knew I would have to take the piercings out eventually. I just wasn’t ready yet. Not when they brought me so much pleasure.
He straightened slowly, one hand sliding down to rest over the curve of my stomach. His palm spread there, protective.
He looked into my eyes.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said softly, his eyes lifting to mine. “Did I tell you that lately?”
“You tell me,” I said softly, brushing my fingers over his wrist where his hand rested on my stomach. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.”
Right on cue, the baby shifted under his hand.
Knox let out a quiet breath of laughter, his thumb moving instinctively over the spot. “She’s awake.”
“She’s always awake,” I muttered.
Another strong kick pressed against his hand.
“She’s going to be unstoppable,” he said, a note of pride threading through his voice. “Strong. Stubborn.”
“Like her father?” I teased.
His gaze flicked back to mine, something warmer settling in it. “Like you.”
Then he looked at me again, something deeper settling in his gaze. The earlier heat hadn’t gone anywhere. Without another word, he slid one arm behind my back and the other beneath my thighs and lifted me, effortless.
“Knox,” I laughed, my arms slipping around his neck automatically.
“I’ve got you,” he said, already turning toward the bedroom. The way he held me made it very clear he had no intention of letting me go anytime soon.
An hour later, I was very aware of exactly what that meant.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against my neck. “Give me one more.”
I was on my side, with Knox pressed close behind me, my top leg draped over his forearm.
His body moved in a slow, steady rhythm, sliding in and out of me.
One hand rested protectively over my swollen stomach while he pressed slow kisses along my shoulder and up to my jaw.
He was determined to make me come again.
Sex with him was different now, more gentle. No chasing, no games where I ran and he took me down. Not with the baby.
I still wanted it. And I knew he did too.
I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his hands gripped just a little too hard before he forced himself to ease up again.
I pushed sometimes. Tested it. I could feel how much effort it took him to be gentle.
The way he held himself back when every instinct in him wanted something rougher, harder.
His expression was tight, caught somewhere between pleasure and frustration, like he was on the edge of losing control, but refusing to fail.
It would have been almost funny, if it didn’t affect me so much.
His hips began to move faster, his grip tightening as he kept me in place. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation, on the slow build instead of the sharp intensity I craved.
It was still harder for me to come like this, sweet and slow, and the orgasms weren’t as intense. I still loved the fight, the force, him holding me down.
But over time, I’d learned to appreciate the slow love making… the closeness, the way he touched me like I was something fragile and precious.
Knox was healing me, piece by piece.
“Knox…” I breathed.
“Oh, yeah,” he groaned against my skin. “That’s it.”
“I’m gonna come.”
When I came like this, pregnant, my body tightened so intensely that it pulled him right over the edge with me, whether he wanted it or not. For once, he had no control and I thought that loss of control both wrecked him and drew him in.
Maybe that was why he’d become so obsessed with my pregnancy.
His thrusts deepened, quickening. My body responded, my head falling back against his shoulder as a moan slipped from my lips.
The pleasure crested, and I let go, my body tensing, stomach tightening under his hand as the contractions rippled through me.
Knox followed instantly, his body jerking as he buried himself deep inside me. A strained hiss left him as he continued to move, slow and unsteady, riding out the last of it and emptying himself inside of me.
With some maneuvering his lips found mine again.
“I love you,” he breathed against my mouth, his hand still resting over my stomach, now soft again and our baby moving after being awakened by my contractions.
I slid my fingers through his stubble, holding him close.
“I love you, too.”
He tucked me closer, his chin resting on my shoulder. The room was quiet except for our breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. Knox’s body relaxed behind me, the tension melting out of him until he was almost asleep.
When he was hovering on the edge of sleep, I nudged him lightly.
“Do you want a bedtime story?” I asked softly.
There was a pause.
Then, a sleepy, half-mumbled, “What?”
“For the baby,” I said, shifting slightly so I could glance back at him. “I should start practicing.”
He huffed out something that might have been a quiet laugh. Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s hear it.”
I cleared my throat. “A long, long time ago, there was a little girl. Since her grandmother gave her a very nice red hat, everyone called her Little Red Riding Hood.”
Knox’s hand absently brushed over my stomach as I spoke.
“One day, Little Red Riding Hood wanted to deliver a cake to her grandmother. But on the way there, she met a big grey wolf.”
I paused just slightly, then continued, my tone shifting. “Little Red Riding Hood had never seen such a handsome wolf… so she used the cake to lure him into a secluded little forest.”
Silence.
“…and then?” Knox murmured.
I smiled to myself. “Little Red Riding Hood told him, very seriously, ‘You ate my cake… so you’re mine now.’”
Another pause.
Knox went very still behind me.
I turned my head slightly, barely holding back a grin. “Did you like it?”
“That is not the version we’re reading to our daughter.”
“We’ll see.”