Mine to Unravel (Andrea’s POV)

It started with the way he looked at me that morning.

I was folding laundry, standing in the soft light of the nursery, my belly rounding out more each week, when I caught him staring—really staring. Like he didn’t understand how I was still here. Still his.

“You okay?” I asked.

He just smiled and nodded, but I saw the flicker in his eyes. The ache he carried. The need. The restraint.

He always held back—for me. For the baby. But I wanted all of him. The man who lost control in the quiet. The one who moaned my name in his sleep. The one who gripped the edge of the counter when I brushed past him and bit down on his own need.

So that night, after Anthony was asleep and the house was quiet, I lit candles.

No pretense.

No performance.

Just soft shadows, cool sheets, and me—naked, waiting on our bed, belly full and breasts heavy.

“Come here,” I said when he paused in the doorway.

He froze. “Andy…”

“Let me take care of you.”

He hesitated, just for a second. Long enough for me to see the war in his eyes—desire vs. guilt. Love vs. fear.

But then I slid off the bed and stood in front of him. I tugged at his belt slowly, deliberately. “You’ve given me everything,” I whispered. “Now it’s my turn.”

When he finally let me strip him down, I kissed every inch of exposed skin, his neck, his chest, the faint scar beneath his ribs. I took my time, worshipped him like he was holy. Because to me, he was.

And when I lowered him onto the bed and straddled him, he gasped.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I said, firm but gentle. “I want to feel you lose yourself in me.”

His hands shook as they gripped my thighs, but he let me move. Let me grind. Let me take what I needed. And I needed him undone.

“Fuck, Andrea,” he breathed as I rocked against him, slow and deep. “You feel… incredible.”

I leaned down, kissed his throat, dragged my tongue along the stubble of his jaw. “I want you to feel how much I love you. I want you to come apart.”

And he did.

With my name on his lips, with his fingers clutching at my hips like he couldn’t bear to let go, he let me unravel him. He let the control slip. Let the noise out. Let his need show.

After, we lay there tangled together, both of us breathless, both of us changed.

His hand rested on my belly, fingers gently tracing circles.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded, eyes glassy. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

I smiled, kissed his temple. “Good. Because I plan on doing it again.”

He chuckled softly, pulling me tighter against him. “You’re dangerous.”

“No,” I whispered. “I’m yours.”

And for once, I didn’t feel afraid to say it.