Chapter 61

Chapter 61
Chapter 61
SOPHIA
I shattered, my legs giving out as the orgasm crashed through me. Lucas caught me, holding me up with one arm while his other hand continued working me through the aftershocks.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing kisses to my temple, my cheek, my lips. "I've got you, baby. You're perfect."

When I could finally breathe again, I looked up at him to find his expression fierce with desire. He pulled his fingers from me and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact.

"I love how you taste," he said, his voice low and wrecked. "Could spend hours between your thighs and never get enough."

Before I could respond, he was lifting me, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He positioned himself at my entrance, and then he was pushing inside, stretching me, filling me completely.

We both groaned at the sensation. No matter how many times we did this, it always felt like the first time—overwhelming and perfect and exactly right.

"Hold on to me," Lucas commanded, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started to move.

The angle was devastating. Every thrust hit deep, hitting spots that made me see stars. I tried to stay quiet, aware that Martha and the rest of the staff were somewhere in the penthouse, but Lucas wasn't making it easy.

"Let them hear," he growled, as if reading my mind. "Let everyone in this building know exactly who you belong to."

His possessiveness should have bothered me. Should have reminded me that I didn't really belong to him, that this was all just an arrangement. Instead, it sent heat spiraling through my core.

"Lucas," I gasped, trying to find words. "I can't—too much—"

"You can take it." He thrust harder, deeper, his hands gripping my hips bruisingly tight. "You can take everything I give you. You were made for this. Made for me."

I came again, harder this time, my vision whiting out as pleasure crashed through me in waves. I felt Lucas follow seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep and groaned my name like a prayer.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both panting, water still cascading over us. My legs were shaking, completely unable to support my weight, and Lucas seemed to realize it at the same moment I did.

"I've got you," he murmured again, carefully withdrawing and setting me down. But when my legs immediately buckled, he caught me with a low curse. "Sophia—"

"I'm okay," I managed, even though I clearly wasn't. My legs felt like jelly, my entire body oversensitized and trembling. "Just give me a second."

Instead of a second, Lucas turned off the shower, wrapped me in the softest towel I'd ever felt, and carried me back to the bedroom like I weighed nothing.

"Lucas, I can walk—"

"Clearly you can't." But he was smiling, that satisfied male smile that said he was pleased with himself for thoroughly wrecking me. "Let me take care of you."

He set me on the bed gently, then disappeared back into the bathroom. I heard drawers opening, the sound of him moving around, and then he was back with lotion and more towels.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

"Aftercare." He said it like it was obvious. "I was rough with you. I need to make sure you're okay."

I watched, stunned, as Lucas proceeded to massage lotion into my legs, my arms, everywhere he'd gripped or held or touched. His hands were gentle now, soothing rather than arousing, and the tenderness of it made my throat tight.

"You don't have to do this," I whispered.

"I want to." He looked up at me, his expression serious. "Sophia, when I'm with you like that—when I lose control—I need to make sure I didn't hurt you. That you're okay."

"You didn't hurt me. You never hurt me."

"Still." He finished with the lotion and grabbed another towel, carefully drying my hair. "Let me take care of you. Please."

There was that word again. Please. Like caring for me was something he wanted rather than something he felt obligated to do.

I let him finish, let him brush my hair and help me into clean clothes, let him treat me like I was precious and fragile and worth all this careful attention. And all the while, I was hyper-aware of the nightstand drawer where those birth control pills sat, waiting.

I needed to take one. Needed to start the pack today if they were going to be effective. But Lucas was right here, hovering, clearly not planning to leave me alone anytime soon.

"I should shower," he said finally, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Then we can have breakfast before we go get Adam."

"Okay." This was my chance. The moment he was in the bathroom, I could take the pill quickly, hide the evidence. "Take your time."

But Lucas, damn him, had other plans.

"Come shower with me," he said, pulling me to my feet. "I like having you in there. Makes it feel less lonely."

My heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "Lucas, we just—"

"I know. I'm not trying to seduce you again." He grinned. "Though if you wanted to, I wouldn't say no. But mostly I just want to be close to you. Is that okay?"

How was I supposed to say no to that? How was I supposed to deny him this small intimacy when he looked at me like I'd hung the moon?

"Okay," I heard myself say, even as panic started building in my chest.

We showered together—actually showered this time, Lucas washing my hair with gentle hands, me soaping his back, both of us existing in this bubble of domestic intimacy that felt almost more intimate than the sex had been.

By the time we were dressed and heading downstairs for breakfast, I still hadn't taken the pill. And with Lucas planning to come with me to pick up Adam instead of going to work, I wouldn't have another chance today.

Tomorrow, I promised myself. I'd take it tomorrow. One day wouldn't make that much difference. Probably.

Martha had breakfast waiting—eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and the special pancakes that Adam had requested specifically. Everything was perfect, everything was ready for our son to come home.

Our son. I kept thinking of Adam that way now, as ours rather than just mine. Because that's how Lucas treated him. Like Adam was his child, his responsibility, his to love and protect.

"You're not going to work?" I asked Lucas as we sat down to eat, needing to confirm what he'd said earlier.

"Not today. Adam's discharge is more important." He squeezed my hand across the table. "This is a big day for all of us. I want to be there."

"Lucas, you don't have to—"

"I want to," he interrupted firmly. "Sophia, stop trying to give me an out. I'm Adam's father now. That means showing up. That means being present for the important moments. This is one of those moments."