“I know.” Another kiss to my palm. My ragged breath hitches. “I know.”
His other hand skims my waist beneath the water. Heat blazes where his fingers graze the swell of my stomach. Not dominance. Not demand. A question.
My thighs graze his ribs as I shift. They remember what I’ve tried so, so hard to forget: the way we used to move together, greedy and gasping.
Three things happen at once:
Rain patters against the surface where our bodies don’t touch.
The twins kick—a frantic flutter beneath his palm.
Sasha’s breath gusts hot against my ear. “I thought… Christ, I thought I’d never get to…”
And then his mouth is on mine.
Slow. So f*****g slow. Like we’ve got all the time in the world, not a lie or bullet or an ocean between us. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, gentle where he
