Lex poured the wine slowly.

Deliberately.

The bottle was expensive—of course it was—dark glass catching the light as the liquid filled the crystal with a soft, mocking glug. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t look away. He wanted her to see it. Wanted the moment to land exactly as intended.

She shot him a look. Warning. Mildly offended. Mostly amused.

Lex lifted the glass, swirling it once, inhaling like he was conducting a very important experiment. “Tragic,” he murmured, eyes flicking to her belly and back to her face. “A palate as refined as yours, temporarily sidelined.”

He took a sip. Unapologetic. Lingering.

“Such a shame,” he hummed, lips curving faintly. He stepped closer, offering the glass just near enough to tease, not enough to touch. “Notes of blackberry. Oak. A finish you would love.”

He watched her reaction carefully—always did—then lowered the glass and pressed a kiss to her temple instead, softer than the provocation deserved.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he added calmly. “In nine months.”

Lex didn’t tease often.

But when he did, it was precise, smug, and entirely worth the wait.