That’s all it takes.

My name. Her voice. Her words.

My control frays.

I grab her wrist—not rough, not pushing her away—just needing something to hold onto before I come undone.

Her pulse thrums beneath my fingers.

She tilts her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “It’s you and me now.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah. It’s us, baby. Us, our little bean, and any future you want.”

A breath. A shift.

Then, a smile that wrecks me.

“We survived,” she whispers.

“You survived.” My voice is raw. “You’re the bravest, most amazing woman I’ve ever known. You did all this. I just made sure it was permanent.”

She looks at me then—really looks. And for the first time, I see it.

Something like love.

Something like forever.

“Can I . . .” My throat tightens. “Can I kiss you?”

She doesn’t just nod.

She moves.

Pulls me in, arms looping around my neck, pressing herself against me like she’s never letting go.

I grip her waist, yank her flush against me, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in.

Her scent. Her warmth. Everything I almost lost.

I press my mouth to her jaw, her cheek, her lips—soft at first, then deeper, taking everything she gives me.

She exhales into me, fingers sliding under my shirt, touching me like she needs this as much as I do.

My hands roam, claim, demand.

I groan against her mouth, pulling back just enough to murmur, “I love you.”

Her breath catches.

She looks up at me, wide-eyed, lips parted. “Say it again.”

I cup her face, thumb tracing her cheek.

“I love you.”

Her lashes flutter, and then she fucking breaks me. “I want this. I want you.”

My restraint snaps with those words.

I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom.

She gasps against my lips, her nails sinking into my shoulders.

“Babe,” I rasp, grinding against her, letting her feel how badly I need her. “You sure? Because once I start, I’m not stopping.”

She moans, arching into me. “Don’t you dare stop.”

I growl, dropping her onto the bed and crawling over her, pinning her beneath me.

Her body—fuller, softer, carrying our child—drives me insane.

My hand slides over her stomach, reverent, possessive.

“You have no idea what this does to me,” I murmur, fingers teasing the hem of her shirt. “Seeing you like this. Knowing you’re carrying my baby.”

She shudders, her hands running down my back.

“You like that?” I smirk, brushing my lips over her collarbone.

Her breath stutters. “Atlas⁠—”

I slide lower, kiss her stomach, drag my tongue along the skin I worship.

“I want you round with me again and again,” I murmur against her skin. “Gonna keep you full, baby.”

Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me up, crashing her mouth to mine.