Aurora’s cries cut through the silence just as I had you exactly where I needed you—pinned beneath me, shaking, your legs wrapped tight around my waist while I fucked into you slow and deep. Your head was thrown back, lips parted with those perfect little gasps that haunted my every waking thought for the past five fucking months.

Five months of spit-up, midnight feeds, and sleepless nights with nothing but my hand and memories of your walls squeezing me like heaven.

I froze. So did you.

Another wail pierced the room.

“Fuck,” I growled under my breath, clenching my jaw so hard it hurt. I dropped my forehead to your shoulder, trying to breathe through the pulse pounding in my little man. “She’ll settle,” I rasped, hips twitching despite myself.

You shook your head, your fingers curling around my biceps like you wanted to stay. But I saw it—the guilt flashing across your face.

The softness. The instinct.

“Harry—”

“She’ll be fine,” I muttered, voice coming out rough and broken as I pressed a desperate kiss to your neck. I was so close. I could feel your walls fluttering around me, so fucking warm and tight, and I needed this. Needed you. Needed to feel you come undone beneath me so I could finally fucking breathe again.

But then another sharp, angry cry cut through the air, and it was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

You pushed at my chest, slipping out from under me before I could stop you. My little man slid out with a slick, aching pull that made me bite back a curse.

“Baby, don’t—fuck—please,” I tried, reaching for you, but you were already halfway off the bed, grabbing your robe as you hurried down the hall, your voice soft and soothing as you called her name.

I flopped onto my back with a heavy groan, dragging a hand over my face. My little man throbbed against my stomach, hard and angry and dripping, twitching with every muffled moan you let out minutes earlier still echoing in my ears.