He reached around her.
Both hands cupped under her belly from below.
Lifted.
Not much. A few inches. Just enough that the weight that had been sitting on her hips and lower back was distributed — shifted, redistributed, the mechanical assist of someone supporting something they know needs supporting.
Mira's whole body dropped.
Not fell — settled. The specific release of a muscle group that had been working continuously for weeks and had just been handed a reprieve. She leaned back into him with the full trust of someone handing weight to someone who can take it, her back against his chest, her head dropping to rest on his shoulder.
"Oh my god," she said.
Not provocative. Just — real. The exhale of it was the exhale of someone whose lower back had been doing load-bearing work and had just been given a vacation.
Viktor put his mouth against her neck.
Kissed it. Light, once, his lips against the warm skin where her throat met her shoulder.
She made a small sound.
