Page 73 of Pastel Kisses

My lips meet hers, slow and hungry, like I’ve been starved of this exact taste—ofher—for far too long. It’s everything I remember and more. Like rediscovering your favorite comfort, the one thing that makes the world quiet down and feel right again.

She whimpers softly, and it lights a fuse in my chest. I trail kisses along her jaw, then down her neck, zeroing in on that sweet spot just below her ear—the one that always makes her melt. The way her breath hitches confirms I still know her body like the back of my hand.

My hand slides down the curve of her side, slow and reverent, until it finds the roundness of her ass, cupping her gently. I pull her closer, guiding her body to rest more fully against my cock, feeling her warmth, her need. Her growing belly presses softly between us, and I adjust without hesitation, cradling her like she’s made of stardust.

“You okay?” I murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, searching her eyes.

She nods, eyes glassy with emotion, fingers curling around the back of my neck. “I’m more than okay,” she breathes.

The way she looks at me—like I hung the moon—hits me square in the soul.

I lean in again, lips brushing hers as my heart pounds against my ribs. “I’m right here, Sunshine.”

And in this moment, nothing else matters but her.

I tighten my grip on her ass, using the hold to guide her over the length of my cock. The friction is delicious—just the right pressure to have her breath hitching. Her body responds instinctively, undulating against me like a tide pulled by the moon.

She’s warm, soft, and goddamn perfect.

Then I lean in, lips parting around one of her peaked nipples, and suck gently—drawing the tight bud into my mouth while swirling my tongue over it. The combination of touch, heat, and pressure has her crying out in seconds.

“Yes!” she shouts, voice drenched in pleasure.

Her body trembles as she rides the high, and I hold her steady through every ripple of it, worshiping her the only way I know how. When the waves finally calm, she exhales, sinking against me with a wide, blissed-out smile that knocks the air right out of my lungs.

“Damn, baby,” I whisper, brushing a kiss over the swell of her breast, then up to her jaw.

She giggles, breath still uneven as she keeps gliding over me, slower now. “Super sensitive,” she mutters with a teasing pout, but the way her body presses against mine says she’s far from done.

And neither am I.

My lips press against hers, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste I’ve craved for months. She melts into me, her fingers threading into my hair, grounding us both in this moment that feels almost too good to be real. When I trail kisses down her neck, she sighs, arching slightly—already sensitive, already needing.

Sliding my hand down her side, I grip her hip and guide her gently over my arousal, just enough pressure to make her gasp and grind. Her soft moans are like a balm, easing the ache I’ve been carrying since the day we lost her.

I pull back, sitting up just enough to hook my hands behind her knees and draw her down toward me. Her belly rounds between us, the physical proof of the miracle she carried through hell. I brush my lips across the curve just above her belly button. “You keeping our little one safe in there, Mama?”

Her breath hitches as she nods, eyes glassy and full of emotion. She threads her fingers through my hair again, gentler this time, like she doesn’t want to let go.

Carefully, I peel away the last of her clothes, drinking in the sight of her. She shifts under the intensity of my gaze, self-conscious, maybe uncertain. But to me? She’s breathtaking.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” I murmur, cupping her knees and guiding her back down between my legs. “You’re everything.”

Her laugh breaks through the thick emotion in the air. “Even now?”

I kiss her inner thigh. “Especially now.”

Her body relaxes under my hands, her trust written in every slow exhale. I lower myself over her, wrapping her in warmth, safety, and the kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything but everything at once.

We’re completely tangled up from where we started—Jaxton’s feet hanging off one side of the bed, Liam's draped over the other. The twins are definitely awake. I can feel their energy, quiet but present, giving us space for this moment. It doesn’t surprise me. They’ve always respected connection when it matters.

Jaxton, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead. He probably won’t budge for a while.

Avery shifts under me, her body warm and relaxed, but the second my hand trails lower—slow, reverent—her breath catches. She’s beautiful like this: vulnerable, safe, glowing with the kind of softness that only comes from trust.

I press a tender kiss to the curve of her belly, just above where my hand rests, and feel her shiver beneath me—not from fear, but from need. Her skin hums with electricity, every breath hitching as I trail my mouth lower. Each kiss is slower, more intentional, like I’m spelling promises across her body. The tension coils tight between us, a fuse lit and burning fast.

“Kam…” she whispers, her voice low and filled with heat. Her fingers drift into my hair, curling gently.

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