28. Chapter Twenty-Eight Nathan

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Nathan

W e gave it a few hours before we did anything at all.

We knew that prison security was probably on our tails…that we weren’t out of the woods—metaphorically—just yet. The shelter of the ancient redwoods and this rundown cabin was a false comfort, an illusion of safety when our lives were still on the line. Abby had risked everything for me.

I didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve this.

But because she’d chosen me, I knew I had to do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

Crickets sang in the dark trees outside as we made our way into the cabin, which was—to its credit—not as dusty as I’d expected. Still, our footsteps left marks on the floor, which I quickly swept away with a broom leaning against the kitchen counter. It was a little chilly outside—we were into November, if I’d counted my days correctly—and I got to work right away sifting through the pack that had been left just inside the cabin, finding blankets, a change of clothes, a couple candles, and a lighter.

There was no food. I guess we were supposed to arrive here with full bellies.

Abby slumped to a seat at the kitchen table, watching me work. Normally, she would have been proactive and doing as much as she possibly could to help, but I could see the exhaustion in her glazed eyes when I struck a match to light a candle on the table. The flame flickered across her features, those beautiful eyes following me around the room.

I found a blanket, draped it around her shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

“You still have the satellite phone, right?” I asked.

She nodded, pulling it out of her pocket and placing it on the table. “Knuckles said to call him once we were somewhere safe. He’ll give us the rendezvous point, then.”

I raked a hand through my hair, blowing out a breath. “Fuck, Abby…I can’t believe you all did this. That operation—it was huge. You all risked everything for me…”

“You’re worth it,” she whispered. She reached out and took my hand. “Nathan…I can’t…”

Her brow furrowed, her smile thinned.

She started crying.

I’d seen Abby cry often, yes—but I’d put her through unspeakable things. She was tough. And this…it was all off. Her exhaustion, the way she broke so quickly. Maybe it was just the emotion of it all, but I had this sixth sense that something was wrong.

I covered her hand with mine, grazing my thumb over her knuckles. I wanted to come around the table, take her into my arms, distract her in the best way I knew how—but she seemed too fragile for that, at least for now.

“Abby,” I breathed. “It’s going to be okay.”

She laughed, swiping at her tears with her free hand. “Of course you’re telling me that, when you’re the one who just spent weeks in prison,” she said. “Sorry…it’s probably just the pregnancy hormones…”

The whole world seemed to stand still.

She was still talking, unloading like she’d been carrying a burden this whole time—but my ears were ringing and I couldn’t hear a thing she said. I gaped at her, gripped her hands.

She paused. “Nathan?”

“I…” I shook my head. “What did you say?”

“I was just talking about the pregnancy hormones,” she said. “They’ve got me really…” She stopped once again. “Are you not happy about it?”

I blinked, every cell in my body screaming at me to hold her, to do something, damn it!

But all I could do was say, “I didn’t know.”

She stared at me like I’d stared at her a few moments ago…then her face fell, her voice a whisper when she spoke again. “I asked…I asked my dad to tell you. He didn’t?”

I shook my head. “We didn’t have a lot of time.”

“So you didn’t…” She trailed off, then her lips curved at the corners into a small, secret smile. “Well, I guess the word’s out then. You’re going to be a dad.”

I stood abruptly, my movements halting and awkward. I was normally so self-possessed, in control of every little detail…but right now I only needed one thing.

I needed to hold her, to touch her, to love her.

I rounded the table and knelt beside her, taking both of her hands in mine. I was still in those damn khaki scrubs from the prison, she was in a guard’s uniform. This was far from the right circumstances for this news.

But we’d never been conventional, had we?

“Abby,” I exhaled, finding myself choked on a lump in my throat. “Abby…”

I wrapped my arms around her waist and she moved to stroke her fingers through my hair as I pressed my face to her stomach. It was still flat, no sign of our child—but I could feel the difference. A subtle change in the softness of her skin, in the way she touched me, in the way that fateful heat simmered between us.

I wanted to know everything, had a million questions, but I couldn’t ask.

Because I was weeping.

I held her for a long time as she stroked my hair, the candlelight flickering across both of us. After everything we’d been through, this woman…she would be the mother of my child. It was a destiny I thought I’d known since I first laid eyes on her, but I’d mistreated her so horribly.

I looked up at her.

“When…when did you find out?”

“Right after you got arrested,” she said. “I started getting sick and I thought it was just anxiety…but Lily helped me figure things out.”

“She knows?”

Abby nodded. “All your siblings do, and Jack.”

“Of course. That explains why Jack was there.”

Abby laughed, still stroking her fingers through my hair. “I rallied the troops,” she said. “I wouldn’t let you go that easy, Nathan Zhou.”

I raised myself up, took her face in my hands. “You are…” I paused, shaking my head. “ My moon ,” I finished in Mandarin. “My north star. Lighting up even the darkest parts of me.”

“I’m not as good as all that,” she said, blushing.

I smiled. “No…you’re better.”

I tilted my head, drew her to me…then I was kissing her.

This wasn’t the kind of kiss we’d shared earlier in the prison, desperate and needy, snatching every moment of time we could. No…this was slow, meaningful. I wanted to show her how I felt, that she was everything. I needed her to know that we would never be apart again.

She was more important to me than anything else in the world.

Slowly, I pulled her down to the floor with me, taking the blanket with her. Abby moaned as I laid her out beneath me, the wool blanket spread out underneath us both, and stripped off my shirt. She sat up to run her fingers over the scars that marred my skin, the old bruises from my beating in the county jail, from the riot at the prison. She found that dragon tattoo, traced its outline and the flames that licked over my chest.

“Missed you,” she breathed.

“You have no idea,” I rumbled.

Then she was wrapping her arms around me, and I was the one on the floor—Abby’s fingers in the waist of my pants, scrambling to take her own clothes off. I helped her as much as I could, both of us clumsy with the need to be close to each other. It was strange…I needed her skin against mine, her pussy wrapped around my cock, clenching…but it wasn’t sexual. I just needed her as close as possible, a reminder that she was real. As soon as she was naked, I pulled her down, kissed her again, said her name.

Abby…Abby…my moon…

She groaned as she straddled me, as her pussy kissed the head of my cock, already clenching. I’d just been inside her mere hours ago, but I already needed her again. I would never stop needing her. I met her eyes as she splayed her hands out on my chest and lowered herself down, down…

She was tight around me, squeezing.

Holding me.

Just feeling.

I didn’t want to move; I just wanted to feel the sensation of her around me, on top of me, touching me. I raised my hands to feel the new weight of her breasts, noticed that her body was changing in the most subtle of ways. I gently squeezed her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, and she tilted her head back and gasped.

“Touch me,” she begged.

Gladly.

I explored every piece I’d missed so much—the pale expanse of her skin lit by firelight, the freckles on her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, her tapered waist. She’d lost weight; she said she’d been sick. I would spend the next nine months making her ginger tea, ensuring she was well-fed and cared for.

She had needed me and I hadn’t been there.

I would never let that happen again.

We started to move, slowly at first. My eyes wanted to slide shut, but I couldn’t stop looking at the woman I loved. We set a rhythm and I sat up to hold her, her body curling around me, legs braced around my waist.

She opened her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered.

It was like she couldn’t stop saying it…and I found myself whispering it in return. Neither of us could stop those words, or the intense stare that filled the space between us. Her body moved in tandem with mine, her fingers trailing down my spine, nails blunt and chewed from anxiety. I grasped her hair, tangled my fingers in it.

I loved her so damn much.

I would give it all up if she asked me to.

But words could wait until later, because my lips couldn’t do anything but kiss her. I gave up on trying to speak, and my mouth found her throat, the line of her jaw, her pulse. She was alive, we were alive together; she was warm and safe and she was carrying my child . I didn’t feel any of the fear I’d expected. Just joy.

We made love for what felt like an eternity, until the friction grew too intense. Our speed quickened. Abby pushed me to the floor again. The wood blanks were hard beneath the blanket, but I didn’t care as she started rising up and falling back down, setting a punishing speed.

Fuck, it felt good. Beyond good. Perfect. She was a goddess in moonlight, pale in the moonbeams from the window, backlit by that flickering flame. She gasped, groaned, said my name—and then she was clenching around me hard and desperate, and I was coming inside my woman, my wife, the love my life…

I breathed her in as she lay across my chest, shoulders rising and falling. It felt like a dream. For a second, I thought it was a dream, a hallucination brought on by the madness I’d fallen into when I was in solitary.

“And to think it all started with a kidnapping,” she said, her eyes meeting mine.

I snorted.

I wouldn’t have hallucinated that.

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered.

She smiled. “I’ll never stop.”

“Good,” I laughed.

Because I didn’t actually want her to.