Page 54 of Wicked Brutal

“You saw me three hours ago.”

“Not like this.” His forehead rests against mine. “Not where I get to look at you as long as I want. Not where I get to touch you without calculating who’s watching.”

He kisses me again—softer this time—then trails his mouth along my jaw, down to the side of my neck. I tip my head to give him more room and feel him smile against my skin.

“You’re so pretty when you do that,” he murmurs. “When you let me in.”

His hands leave my face and settle at the buttons of my blazer. He doesn’t rush. He undoes them one by one, eyes flicking up to mine between each, like he’s checking in even though he already knows the answer. When the blazer is open he slides it off my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor behind me.

The white button-down is next. He works the buttons slowly, deliberately, and every time another one opens he presses a kiss to the newly exposed skin—collarbone, the top of my sternum, the soft space between my breasts over the lace of my bra.

“Look at you,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every single time. I still can’t believe I get to have this.”

I feel heat crawl up my neck. “Ryan—”

“Don’t.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “Don’t start that. Not with me.”

He pushes the shirt off my shoulders. It joins the blazer on the floor. I’m standing in front of him in my bra and the regulation skirt and I can feel every place my body has started to change—the slight fullness in my breasts, the soft curve low on my stomach that wasn’t there two months ago, the way my waist sits differently now.

His hands settle at my waist, thumbs brushing the small swell there through the fabric of the skirt, and he goes still for a second, just looking down at the place where our baby is.

When he looks back up at me his eyes are darker. Softer.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, and there’s nothing performative in it. Just quiet, absolute certainty. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? Standing here in my room with my baby inside you?”

My throat tightens. “I look different.”

“Yeah.” He nods once. “You do. And I can’t stop staring at it.” His thumbs stroke slow circles over the curve. “This body is doing the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, Ally. And it’s still yours. It’s still the body I fell in love with. It’s just… more. And I love every single inch of the more.”

He sinks to his knees in front of me.

I suck in a breath as his hands slide up the backs of my thighs, under the hem of the skirt, and he looks up at me like he’s asking permission even though his eyes already know he has it. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the soft place just below my navel, right over the small firm swell, and stays there for a long moment, breathing me in.

“Hi,” he whispers against my skin, so quiet I almost miss it. “It’s your dad. I’m still here. I’m always going to be here.”

He kisses the curve again, slower this time, then rests his forehead against it for a second like he’s grounding himself. When he finally stands he cups my face again and kisses me hard—deeper, hungrier—and I can feel how much he’s holding back, how carefully he’s keeping himself in check so this stays exactly what I need it to be.

“I’m going to take the rest of this off,” he says against my mouth. “And then I’m going to show you exactly how I see you. Okay?”

I nod.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

His smile is small and private and completely mine. “Good girl.”

Ryan’s hands settle at my waist, and he walks me backward until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the mattress. He lowers me down carefully—like I’m something precious he’s been trusted with—and follows me, bracing his weight on his forearms so he never fully settles on top of me.

The second my back touches the sheets he kisses me again. Deep. Slow. The kind of kiss that feels like he’s trying to pour every hour he spent pretending not to know me into my mouth.

When he finally pulls away, he starts working his way down.

He kisses the hinge of my jaw. “I love the way you think,” he murmurs against my skin. “The way your brain never stops. Even when you’re quiet, I can see you doing the math on everything.”

His mouth finds the soft place under my ear. “I love how careful you are with Tobias. How you make him feel like the most important person in every room even when the room is trying to eat you alive.”

He trails lower, open-mouthed kisses along the side of my neck, across my collarbone. “I love that you write. That you have this whole world inside you that nobody else gets to see unless you decide they can.”