Page 120 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
“I hope it’s a girl.”
I smile against her skin. “Boy or girl. They’re already perfect.”
The doctor enters. “It’s time.”
I kiss her knuckles one last time. “Let’s meet our baby, sweetheart.”
The hours blur.
I’ve sat through torture sessions and assassinations that didn’t last this long. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for the helplessness of watching the woman I love scream in pain, body arching, fingers digging into mine.
She squeezes so hard I think she might break my hand, and I want her to. I want her to hurt me instead, if it means she can hurt less.
Her eyes are shut tight, her face drenched in sweat, and I don’t know if she hears a word I’m saying—but I keep whispering to her anyway.
“You’re doing so well, baby. So, so well.” I’ve never seen anything more powerful in my life.
Her scream cuts through the room, and I flinch.
I can’t take this.
Tears burn behind my eyes. I blink quickly, but one escapes, trailing down my cheek as I kiss her hand. My chest aches. This is what destroys me—her pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, forehead resting against hers. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’d take it if I could. All of it.”
She cries out again, her back arching.
The doctor’s voice is steady. “He’s almost here. One more push, Jennie. Come on.”
Her head falls back, exhausted, but something in her eyes blazes.
“I’ve got you,” I breathe. “One more. That’s all. I’m here. You’re safe.”
She screams again—and then—
A baby’s cry fills the room.
My breath catches. My world stops.
The baby is here.
I watch, stunned, as the nurse lifts him—squalling, wrinkled, perfect.
Jennie sobs beside me, her body collapsing against the pillows, and I lean over, pressing kiss after kiss to her face.
“You did it,” I whisper. “God, you did it. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
A nurse places the baby—our son—on her chest. He’s still crying, fists balled up, but the moment he hears her voice—soft, breathless, trembling with emotion—he quiets.
And that’s when I lose it.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I lean over both of them, brushing a kiss to his tiny head, then to hers.
“He’s beautiful,” I choke out.
Jennie smiles through her tears, her fingers brushing his cheek. “He looks like you.”
“Oh God.”
