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
