Page 66 of Fierce Hearts

"We won't let it reach that point," I said, reaching for her. Thankfully, she didn't pull away.

I drew her against me, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other splayed across her lower back. She fit perfectly against me, her face nestled into my neck, her breath warm on my skin.

"I'm scared," she admitted quietly, and my heart crumbled as I held her tighter.

"I know." I pressed my lips to her temple. "But you're not alone. I'm here, and I'll keep you safe."

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes searching mine. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, because she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine.

The kiss started gentle, tentative—but the moment her body pressed fully against mine, her lips becoming more hungry, something snapped inside me. The possessiveness that had been building every day surged through my veins like wildfire.

I backed her against the wall, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip. My mouth devoured hers, claiming, marking, owning. She gasped against my lips, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

But she was kissing me back just as desperately.

"Mine," I growled, trailing harsh kisses down her neck. "You're mine, Sofia. You and the baby. Mine."

"Gray," she breathed, arching into me.

"I won't let anyone hurt you. Either of you."

I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to our bedroom.

Our bedroom.

The thought had felt so right, I didn't even bother to ponder it.

Every step fueled the primal need burning through me—to claim her, to mark her, to make it impossible for her to forget who loved her.

I laid her on the bed, my body covering hers, pinning her beneath me. My hand found her throat, not squeezing but holding, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm. I wasn't sure why I did it, but she didn't seem to care.

No, it wasn't that she didn't care. She knew I would never hurt her.

And that made me rock hard.

"Tell me to stop," I said, my voice barely recognizable. "If you don't want this, tell me now. I need you to say it, Sofia."

Her eyes, dark with desire, locked on mine. "Don't stop."

That was all I needed.

I claimed her mouth again, my hand still resting on her throat, feeling her every breath, her every swallow. Her life. My other hand worked at her clothes, pushing fabric aside until I could touch bare skin.

"You're carrying my child," I murmured against her ear. "My blood. My family."

Sofia moaned, her hips rising to meet mine. "Gray, please."

I stripped away her clothing, my eyes never leaving hers, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face. When she lay naked beneath me, I took a moment to simply look at her—at the gentle swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the flat plane of her stomach where our child grew.

"Beautiful," I breathed, trailing my fingers across her skin. "So fucking beautiful."

I shed my own clothes quickly, then settled between her thighs, my hand returning to her throat. The trust in her eyes as she arched into my touch nearly undid me.

"Mine," I repeated, pressing into her slowly, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a gasp. "Say it, Sofia. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," she whispered, her hands clutching at my back. "I'm yours, Gray."

I set a punishing pace, driven by something deeper than desire, something possessive that pulsed through my veins. My hand remained on her throat, feeling every moan, every plea. Her nails raked down my back, marking me as thoroughly as I marked her with kisses and nips to her neck and shoulder. Nips that would leave bruises in their wake, but she didn’t seem to be caring right now.

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