Growing Light

BRIAN
Listen to This Bonus Scene

The Pittsburgh airport is packed with travelers, everyone moving with that particular blend of festive excitement and travel-induced stress. I weave through the crowd with my phone pressed to my ear.

"The contract looks good, Tucker. Just don't sign anything until I review the final language tomorrow." I check my watch, calculating the time it will take to get home. Too long. "I need to go. Kiss Sloane and the babies for me."

As I disconnect, my thoughts immediately shift to my pregnant wife. Noa is six months along now, her belly a perfect round dome that never fails to leave me in awe. I've been gone for just three days—a quick trip to Chicago for the Stag twins’ endorsement negotiations—but it feels like weeks.

The Uber crawls through evening traffic, each red light an exercise in patience I don't possess. I scroll through the photos Noa sent me during my absence: her standing in profile beside a bookshelf, a cat curled around her ankles, her hand resting on her belly as she dozes on the couch, a close-up of the newest ultrasound with the caption She has your nose.

My daughter. The thought still staggers me. At forty-six, I never expected to become a father. Never thought I'd have a wife, a home, roots sunk deep into one place. Yet here I am, thumb hovering over the image of our child, heart so full it physically aches.

By the time the car pulls up to our building, I'm nearly vibrating with impatience. The apartment is cozy but perfect for us, with a nursery already painted the palest shade of yellow. Home, in every sense of the word.

I unlock the door, surprised to find the space dark except for the warm glow of candles. Dozens of them scattered across surfaces, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"Noa?" I call, setting down my bag and loosening my tie.

"Bedroom," her voice carries down the hallway, something in its tone making my pulse quicken.

I follow the trail of candlelight, shedding my suit jacket as I go. When I reach our bedroom doorway, I stop, breath catching in my throat.

Noa reclines against our pillows, gloriously, completely naked. Her dark curls spill across her shoulders, her skin luminous in the golden light. Her belly rises between her hips, a perfect round swell that houses our child, and above it, her breasts—fuller now with pregnancy—gleam like polished marble. As I watch, she trails fingers lazily across one nipple, her smile slow and knowing.

"I need you," she says simply.

A primal sound escapes me, something between a groan and a growl. Three days away from this woman was three days too many.

"You're stunning," I tell her, crossing to the bed and dropping to my knees beside it. "Absolutely fucking perfect."

Her laugh is low and warm. "I'm enormous. My ankles are swollen, and I can't see my feet."

"Gorgeous," I insist, pressing my lips to her belly in reverence. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I trail kisses across the taut skin of her stomach, up to the undersides of her breasts, and then capture one nipple gently between my lips. She gasps, threading fingers through my hair.

"Careful," she warns breathlessly. "They're sensitive."

I adjust immediately, switching to feather-light touches as I work my way down her body. When I reach the juncture of her thighs, I glance up, seeking permission.

"Please," she whispers, already parting her legs for me.

The first stroke of my tongue makes her arch off the bed. Pregnancy has made her more responsive and more sensitive to every touch. I take my time, worshipping her with careful attention, learning the new rhythms of her body. When I slip first one finger, then two, inside her, I find her already slick and ready.

"So wet for me," I murmur against her skin. "Did you make yourself come while I was gone? Thinking of me?"

She shakes her head, breathing ragged. "I waited. It was so hard, but I waited for you."

"I'll show you hard," I promise, the joke making her laugh even as she moans from my ministrations.

Her orgasm builds quickly, her thighs tensing against my shoulders. When she breaks, my name falls from her lips like a prayer, her body pulsing around my fingers as I work her through each wave.

Before she fully recovers, I stand and strip efficiently, never taking my eyes from her flushed face, her heaving chest, and the glorious curve of her belly. I help her roll to her side, then guide her gently to her hands and knees, piling pillows beneath her for support.

"Is this okay?" I ask, running a hand down the slope of her back. "Comfortable?"

She looks over her shoulder, eyes dark with desire. "Perfect. Now stop making me wait."

I position myself behind her, taking a moment to simply appreciate the view—the graceful line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the soft roundness of her ass. Catching movement in the mirror across the room, I see us reflected—Noa on all fours, her belly hanging heavy between her arms, breasts swaying slightly with her movements. The image is so erotic I nearly lose control before we've begun.

When I finally push inside her, we both groan at the sensation. I start slow, mindful of her condition, but she pushes back against me impatiently.

"I won't break," she insists. "I need you, Brian. All of you."

Permission granted I establish a rhythm that has the headboard knocking against the wall, my hands gripping her hips, sinking into her soft skin as I drive into her again and again. In the mirror, I watch her face contort with pleasure, her eyes half-closed, lips parted. I watch her breasts swing with each thrust, her belly tight and round, housing the miracle we created together.

"Look at you," I murmur, voice strained with effort and emotion. "My beautiful wife. Never thought I'd have this. Never thought I'd—"

My words dissolve into incoherence as her inner muscles tighten around me. She's close again, her breathing short and sharp. I reach around to stroke her where we're joined, and she comes with a sharp cry, her entire body trembling.

The sight of her pleasure, the feel of her pulsing around me, sends me hurtling toward my release. It builds at the base of my spine, white-hot and relentless, like the collective light of every candle in the room, concentrated into a single point of ecstasy.

"Noa," I gasp, my hips stuttering against hers. "Noa, I'm—"

The world goes momentarily blank as I empty myself inside her, pleasure so intense it borders on pain washing through me in endless waves. Her name tears from my throat, a desperate sound of completion and homecoming.

Afterward, I ease her gently onto her side, careful not to put pressure on her belly. Her face is flushed, her curls wild around her head, her smile soft with satisfaction. I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, overcome with tenderness for this woman who changed everything.

"Don't move," I tell her, pressing one more kiss to her lips before heading to the bathroom.

I return with a warm washcloth, cleaning her with gentle strokes before settling beside her on the bed, still naked. As always, I revel in the feel of my hairy skin pressed against her silky smoothness. My hand finds its way to her belly, and I'm rewarded with a firm kick against my palm.

"She missed you," Noa says, placing her hand over mine. "We both did."

"I'm here now." I pull her against me, her back to my chest, my body curving protectively around hers. “You're the light that guides me back every time."

She makes a contented sound, already drifting toward sleep. I stay awake a while longer, watching the candlelight flicker across her skin, marveling at how completely my life has transformed in the span of a year. 

I may have wandered the world for decades, but I was always heading here—to this quiet moment, this soft shelter, this woman who became my home.

Thank you for reading Brian and Noa’s story! 

We first meet Brian as Hawk’s agent in Beautiful Game, but he’s a regular in the following books if you’d like to get caught up:

Forging Passion (Wes and Cara prequel)

Forging Glory (Wes and Cara)

Forging Legacy (Wyatt and Fern)

Forging Chaos (Odin and Thora)

Playing for Keeps (Gunnar and Emerson)

Playing for Payback (Alder and Lena)

Playing with Fire (Tucker and Sloane)