“I don’t want slow,” I whisper.
He freezes.
Looks at me.
Searches my face like he’s looking for doubt.
There’s none.
Something in him breaks then—not violently, but like a dam giving way to something deeper, warmer, unstoppable. He kisses me again, deeper, his body lowering over mine, heat and need and emotion tangled together in every movement.
The rest unfolds like a breath finally released.
Soft touches.
Long, slow kisses.
Clothes slipping away.
Bodies meeting in quiet desperation.
A whispered name against skin.
His hands holding me like I matter.
My fingers clinging to him like he’s the only steady thing in my world.
No rush.
No fear.
Just us.
Exactly where we were always meant to be.
And when he finally gathers me against his chest afterward, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, everything inside me knows my heart will always belong to Caden. Now. Forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CADEN
Ilay in my bed, warmed by Kamiyah’s body heat. A weighted silence surrounds us as if she’s holding back so much. I’ve given her time without pressure and a safe place to confide in me and I sense she wants to.
The silence settles into a soothing hum and I stare at her, immersing myself in the sounds of her breathing and the soft rustling of the silk around our feet. It feels like an eternity since Priscilla visited my home, yet it’s only been over a week. And from multiple conversations with my lawyer, the woman isn’t backing down from her greedy hold on Kamiyah. I just wish this battle wasn’t happening days before Christmas—the time she needed to be at her sister’s bedside.
She just looks up at me with those storm-gray eyes, full of guilt and humiliation and something rawer. “I’m sorry,” she says, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into?—”
“Honey.” My voice cuts through her rambling. “Look at me.”
She does.
“Your aunt has no power here,” I say. “Not in this space. Not with me.”
Her breath trembles. “I wish I was strong enough to stand up for myself, but I’m grateful you defended me the way you did.”
“I will always defend you,” I say. “I’m not going to let someone terrorize you.”
Something flickers across her face—something warm and pained.
