Nine Months to Bear By Nicole Fox - 60

60

I’m in that hazy space between sleep and waking when I feel something. It takes me a second to realize what it is: warm breath against my inner thigh, hands spreading me open, a tongue that knows exactly where to touch.

“Stefan…?”

“Mmm.” The vibration of his response against me makes my hips buck. “Don’t move.”

“What are you— Oh, God⁠—”

His mouth closes over me with purpose. My hands find his hair and tug hard enough to make him groan.

“G-good m-morning to you, too,” I gasp.

He pulls back just enough to speak. “Shh. I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what, exactly?”

“Worshipping you.” He punctuates this with a long, slow lick that makes my toes curl. “Now, shut up and let me work.”

Any pithy comeback dies on my lips as he doubles down, fingers joining his mouth in a rhythm that has me arching off the bed. I’m almost jealous of his focus. Nothing else in the world exists besides getting me exactly where he wants me to be.

“Stefan, I’m going to⁠—”

“Yes, you are.” His fingers curl inside me and find that spot that makes me see stars. “Right… about… now .”

He’s right. Goddamn him, he’s so fucking right. The orgasm bolts through me. My thighs clamp around his head as I ride it out. He doesn’t stop until I’m pushing at his shoulders, oversensitive and gasping.

“Satisfied with yourself?” I pant as he crawls up my body, looking entirely too pleased.

“Getting there.” He kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips. “How’s the morning sickness?”

“Seriously? That’s your pillow talk?”

“I’m being considerate.”

“You just had your face between my legs for twenty minutes. I think we’re long past considerate.”

“Fifteen minutes, max. You were easy this morning. “ He nips at my jaw. “And you didn’t answer the question.”

“I feel fine.” I push at his chest until he rolls onto his back, then swing my leg over to straddle him. “Better than fine, actually.” His hands find my hips, but I intervene and pin his wrists to the mattress. “Oh, no, no, no. It’s my turn.”

“Olivia—”

“Shh.” I grind against him, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. “I’m busy.”

His eyes flash with that dangerous heat I’ve come to crave. “You’re playing with fire, little fox.”

“Then burn me away, Mr. Safonov.”

I release his wrists to position myself, then sink down onto him in one smooth motion. We both groan at the sensation—him filling me completely, me tight around him.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, hands returning to my hips with bruising force.

“That’s the idea.” I start to move, slow and deliberate, watching his face contort with pleasure and frustration. “Why do you look so mad about this?”

“Because you’re going to be the fucking death of me.”

“What a way to go though, right?”

He sits up suddenly, changing the angle, making me gasp. One arm bands around my waist while the other hand tangles in my hair.

“Enough teasing,” he growls against my throat.

“Make me.”

“With pleasure.”

He flips us without withdrawing, pinning me beneath him. The next thrust is deep and savage, stealing my breath. He sets a punishing pace that has me clawing at his back, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Look at me,” he commands when my eyes flutter closed.

I force them open, meeting his intense gaze. There’s something raw there, beyond lust. Something that makes my chest clench with emotion even as my body races toward release.

“Mine,” he says, and it’s not possessive so much as wondering . Like he still can’t quite believe it.

“Yours,” I agree. Then, because I can’t help myself: “And you’re mine.”

“Yes.” He kisses me hard, swallowing my moan as his hand finds where we’re joined. “Always.”

The orgasm builds fast, inevitable as gravity. I break the kiss to cry out his name as it drowns me.

He’s close, too—I can feel it in the way his rhythm falters, the way his breathing turns ragged against my neck. But he’s holding back, that stubborn bastard. I’m not sure what he enjoys more: torturing me or torturing himself.

“Stefan,” I whisper, running my hands down his sweat-slicked back. “Let go.”

“Not yet,” he growls. “I want to feel you come again first.”

The sensation builds impossibly fast, like he’s rewiring my nervous system with every touch. And when it comes, the second orgasm hits harder than the first, making me spasm beneath him. He groans at the feeling of me clenching around him. The tendons in his throat stand out as he tries to fight his own finish.

“Please,” I beg as the aftershocks roll through me. “Stefan, please. I need⁠—”

“What do you need?”

“You. All of you.” I cup his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Stop holding back. Come for me.”

“Olivia—”

“Please,” I beg again. I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “I want to feel you lose control. I want to watch you fall apart. For me. ”

He makes a sound that’s half-growl, half-groan. All sense of rhythm goes out the window. We’re a stuttering, sweating mess, both of us so desperate to pull him deeper that nothing else seems to matter anymore.

“Say my name,” he demands hoarsely.

“Stefan.” I rake my nails down his back, feeling him shudder. “Stefan, please, come for me. I need it. I need you.”

“Fuck—Olivia⁠—”

His release tears through him with violent intensity. I feel him pulse inside me as he buries his face in my neck. His whole body shakes with the force of it, and I hold him through it, stroking his hair as he comes apart in my arms.

When he finally lifts his head to look at me, his eyes are soft, vulnerable, at ease.

“That’s a helluva good morning,” I whisper with a dazed laugh as I brush a strand of dark hair from his forehead.

He captures my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “The best kind of good morning.” His hand finds my stomach, resting there gently. “I’m going to take care of you both, you know,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

He pulls back to look at me. “You trust me?”

It’s a loaded question, given everything. But lying here in his bed, carrying his child, feeling safer than I’ve ever felt despite the danger that surrounds him—surrounds us now—there’s only one answer.

“Yes,” I say simply. “I trust you.”

We slip in and out of sleep for a while before I eventually pry myself out of Stefan’s arms with a groan. He watches me through half-lidded eyes as I wobble naked toward the bathroom.

“Like what you see?” I tease.

He grins lazily. “Love it, actually.”

Maybe the old Olivia would’ve been embarrassed to be ogled like this, but these days, there’s no self-consciousness left—he’s seen every inch of me, claimed every inch of me, and the hunger in his gaze makes it clear he wants to do it all over again.

“A gentleman would avert his eyes, you know.”

“Then it’s lucky for me that I’m no fucking gentleman.” He pushes himself up on one elbow and makes it very clear that he’s eyeing me head to toe. My skin prickles with heat, like we didn’t just spend hours tying each other up like sexy pretzels.

“I’m taking a shower,” I announce so he doesn’t get any ideas. “Alone.”

“What if you need help?”

“If you come help, we’ll never leave this room.”

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

I laugh, resuming my naked march toward his bathroom. “Some of us have responsibilities.”

“Some of us are pregnant,” he reminds me, “and should be taking it easy.”

The scold sends a flutter through my stomach—not nausea this time, but pure joy. I’m pregnant . With Stefan’s baby.

And he wants this. Wants us .

Sometimes, life seems too good to be true.

The shower is further proof that I’m living a dream life. I never fail to appreciate just how absurd the thing is. I could do cartwheels in here if I wanted to. Seeing as how my legs are currently made of pudding, though, I settle for standing underneath the rainfall showerhead and letting the hot water wash away the sticky evidence of our morning.

Through the glass, I can see Stefan saunter in and lean against the doorframe, watching me with an intensity that makes me flush.

“You’re staring,” I call out.

“Can you blame me?”

I turn to face him fully, water streaming down my body. His jaw tightens, hands flexing at his sides like he’s physically restraining himself from joining me.

“This is torture,” he mutters.

“Good.” I reach for the shampoo, working it through my hair slowly, deliberately. “Consider it payback for all those times you made me wait.”

His eyes go huge. “ I made you wait? That’s revisionist history. You’re the one who thought you could get away with leaving a plastic fucking cup on my desk.”

I blush and look down. “That was different.”

He nods. “It was. That was before…”

When he doesn’t finish his sentence, I glance at him. “Before what?”

His eyes meet mine through the steam. “Before I admitted I was completely fucked where you’re concerned.”

The honesty in his voice stops my teasing. I rinse my hair, suddenly serious. “Stefan…”

“I know. Too much, too fast. But I can’t take it back now. And you know what? I don’t fucking want to.”

I’m about to respond when my phone buzzes on the counter. Then buzzes again. And again.

“Ignore it,” Stefan says.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop. If anything, it gets more insistent.

“What if it’s important?” I ask.

The phone stops buzzing. Then immediately starts again.

I sigh, turning off the water. “I should check.”

Stefan hands me a towel as I emerge, his fingers lingering on mine. I wrap the towel around my torso and grab my phone. The caller ID makes my stomach drop.

“It’s the hospital,” I breathe.

Stefan’s entire demeanor shifts, going alert. “Mass General?”

“Yeah.” My hands shake as I stare at the screen. “They’ve been calling for ten minutes.”

“Answer it.”

“What if⁠—”

“Answer it, Olivia.” He laces his fingers through my free hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

I swipe to answer just as it starts ringing again. “Dr. Aster speaking.”

“Dr. Aster, this is Dr. Heller from the Mass General board. Do you have a moment to speak?”

My eyes find Stefan’s. He nods, moving closer.

“Yes, of course. Would it be alright if I put you on speaker? My… partner is here.”

“That would be fine.”

I hit speaker as Stefan’s arm belts around my waist. The towel slips slightly, but I don’t care. His touch grounds me, and I get the feeling I’m going to need that for whatever disaster is about to ruin my good morning.

“Dr. Aster…” Dr. Heller’s voice fills the bathroom. “I’m calling with some rather exciting news. The board has made its decision regarding the fertility clinic partnership.”

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure it’s audible through the phone. “Oh! Uh, yeah, oh. Okay.”

“We’d like to offer you the position.”

I actually stumble. Stefan’s arm tightens to keep me upright.

“I… what?”

“The partnership is yours, if you want it. Off the record, I’d say that Dr. Walsh’s recent… public relations difficulties… have made the board reconsider our options. Your reputation for patient care, your innovative approaches, your family legacy in medicine—well, we believe Aster Fertility Solutions is exactly what Mass General needs.”

Family legacy. There it is: the shadow of my mother’s achievements following me even in my moment of triumph.

But for once, I don’t care. The partnership is mine.

“… Dr. Aster?” the woman says. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here. I’m just— This is incredible news.”

“We expect great things from the daughter of Margaret Aster,” Dr. Heller continues. “When can you come in to discuss the details?”

“Whenever you need me.”

“Excellent! We’ll have our legal team draw up the contracts. Congratulations, Dr. Aster. We look forward to working together.”

The call ends. I stare at the phone, not quite believing what just happened.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. I spin in his arms, the towel finally giving up and falling to the floor. “I got it. I actually got it.”

“You got it.”

“Stefan, I—” The magnitude hits me all at once. “Rebecca’s finished. The partnership is mine. My clinic is saved.”

“Your clinic was already saved,” he reminds me with a playful pinch of my butt.

“But this is better. This is everything I’ve worked for.” I throw my arms around his neck, pressing my naked body against his. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You did this, Olivia.”

“ We did this.” I pull back to meet his eyes. “Together.” I pull him toward the shower, giddy and light-headed. “Come on. We need to celebrate properly.”

“We just did celebrate,” he says with a laugh. “Twice.”

“That was before the call!” I turn on the water and laugh like an insane woman. “This is different. This is… God, Stefan, this is everything.”

He steps into the shower behind me, hands cupping over my stomach. “You’re shaking.”

“I know. I can’t stop.” I lean back against his chest. “Part of me keeps thinking I’m gonna wake up. That none of this is real.”

“It’s real.” His lips find my shoulder. “The partnership, the baby, us. All of it.”

“Say it again.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. The whole thing, again and again and again. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.”

As he grins against my throat, Stefan’s hands start to wander lower and lower. He says the same thing he said earlier this morning, two words that never fail to make me smile.

“With pleasure.”