I placed my hands on his shoulders, rolled him onto his back, and straddled his waist. My hands slipped down to his chest. Styx’s eyes were dilated with need. Then his lips hooked into a smirk as his hands landed on my stomach. I knew Styx loved me, had known it since I had found him again. But since I had been pregnant, there was more in his gaze. A new form of love, more intense and sacred. Deeper and more connected. A part of him now lived within me, the beating heart of our love’s creation inside my body.

  Lifting my hips, I placed Styx at my entrance, and slowly, without breaking eye contact, lowered myself until I was full of him. Styx inside me in both flesh and soul.

  “Mae,” he whispered and moved his hands to grip my hips. I began to move, rocking slowly, feeling every inch of him within me. I gradually built up speed, leaning forward until my lips were kissing Styx’s. I drew back, keeping my face no more than an inch from his. I laid my hands on his cheeks and felt his hips begin to move faster, thrusting up to meet my movements. I searched his eyes, hoping to find the answers to what worried him. But all I saw was his love for me, silently loud and uncensored. Styx struggled with words, but he did not need them to show me he cared. I saw it. I felt it within him every day.

  “I love you,” I whispered as his thrusts began to build in speed. Styx’s lips parted and I saw him fighting to return the sentiment. And I saw the pain in his eyes, the frustration when those words would not come forth. “I know,” I whispered and kissed his cheek. “I know you love me too.”

  Styx’s teeth gritted together, and I saw the familiar anger taking hold. So I sat back. A long groan came from his throat as his muscles corded and his hands squeezed my rolling hips. “Styx,” I murmured as I felt my channel begin to tighten. I stretched my arms back until my hands landed on his thighs. Styx’s fingers fell to my core and began to rub the spot which broke me apart. I stilled as pure pleasure ran through my body. A low growl sounded from Styx’s mouth, and then I felt his warmth filling me.

  I jerked as I came down from my high and opened my eyes. Styx was already staring at me. Crawling forward, I kissed his lips softly, briefly, then said, “I love you so much, River Nash. I hope you know that.”

  Styx lifted his head and kissed me. He kissed me so hard and so thoroughly that I was breathless when he broke away. I smiled and watched as happiness filled his gaze. Then, slipping from the bed, I held out my hand. Styx frowned but took my hand regardless.

  I led him to the bathroom and to the tub where the fragrant hot water waited. Candles flickered around the dark room, casting a warm glow on the wooden walls. Styx’s arms came over my shoulders, his hands visible before my eyes. “You did all this?” he signed.

  “Yes,” I replied and turned in his arms. Styx was watching me, as if he was trying to work out why. “Come,” I said and used his hand to steady my entrance into the tub. Styx came behind me, and we lowered ourselves until we were submerged in lavender-scented heat, my back against his chest and Styx’s arms around my waist.

  I sighed with contentment and felt Styx lay three kisses on the side of my neck. I leaned into his touch and threaded my fingers through his. As Johnny Cash sang his gospel songs, I brought our joined hands to lie over my heart and said, “Tell me what is wrong.”

  Every muscle in Styx’s body tensed. He tried to pull his hand from mine. I knew it was so he could sign, and I held on tightly, halting his movements.

  “No,” I said and looked up to his face. His jaw was clenched, and I saw fear in his hazel stare. Real fear. “Talk to me.” I heard the pleading tone in my voice. I begged with my eyes and could see the despair that lay in his. He turned his head to avert his gaze. “Baby,” I whispered. Then I felt my heart break when he turned to me again and opened his mouth. He was trying to speak, but no words came forth. His head ticced and his eyes blinked, and I watched the man I loved fight against the tightness in his throat. I witnessed the pain in his eyes and saw embarrassment blossom on his stubbled cheeks.

  Shaking my head, I released his hand, returning his ability to speak. Styx breathed out in relief as he lifted his hands. But they froze in midair. He closed his eyes then signed, “I’m just going through some shit in my head, babe.” My stomach fell at his too-vague confession. His eyes opened, and I knew he saw my disappointment because he lowered his hands to my face and managed to stutter, “I . . . I . . . l-l-l-love y-y-you.”

  My heart melted, my soul cried, and I laid my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You can talk to me. No matter the problem, even if it’s club business, I would understand.”

  Styx stilled, and I heard his sigh of frustration. He signed, “You’re my fucking everything, Mae. Never fucking doubt that.” His hand ran over my bump and rose again. “You and our kid. But I can’t . . .” He paused. “I can’t . . .”

  “Shh,” I said and lowered his hands with mine. “It is all right.” I saw the sadness in his eyes. “You do not need to say.” Getting to my knees, I kissed his lips. “But when you are ready to talk, I will be here. I am always going to be here for you.”

  I saw his shoulders relax. Then he signed, “I can’t fucking wait for you to be my wife. Finally. My motherfucking wife after all these years.”

  All the tension, all the worry that perhaps it was the wedding, that he had changed his mind about me drifted from my mind with that single declaration. And I saw it written on his face. It was the truth. He so badly wanted us to be wed. He always had, ever since I came back.

  “I cannot wait to be officially yours either,” I said, and a rare smile spread on his lips. As I settled back down in his arms, that smile grew wider. The iPod switched albums, and Johnny Cash’s “I Won’t Back Down” began to play. With his chin on my shoulder and his arms around my waist, Styx began to sing to me.

  And he sang each of the lyrics stutter free, his words clear and strong. Hidden tears built in my eyes as I listened to his deep, rough voice singing the hauntingly appropriate lyrics. My strong, hard fiancé, who could only communicate by song or sign, paralyzed by the spoken word, so perfect in my heart.

  So as the tears fell silently into the bath water, I listened to him sing. For once in his life, his trapped voice was set free from its cage.