God help me, I’d give up every kink just to hear that sound again.
“Do you…ever do anything calm?” she asks, head tilting, curls sliding over her shoulder like liquid flame. “Or is it all…coffee, pizza, dogs, and movies?”
I grin, leaning against the wall, the weight of the remote forgotten in my hand. “Calm?” I echo. “Dove, thatiscalm. You should see me in chaos.”
Steam still curls from the bathroom, wrapping around her like it’s jealous, and I swear the air between us hums. I shrug, trying for casual, but I can feel her eyes on me—sharp, soft, curious. “I can handle both,” I say finally. “Chaos, calm. I’ve done my time in both. Previous dating experience has taught me good things can happen in either.”
She considers that, gaze dipping, voice going quiet. “I…I never asked,” she murmurs, fidgeting with the tie of her robe. “If…if our marriage will cause you problems. Is there…someone out there who’ll be heartbroken?”
I lean back a little, sliding my hands into my pockets like I’m the most relaxed man alive. “Oh, yeah,” I say smoothly. “Millions. They’ll be devastated. Candles. Tears. Probably an emotional support group.”
Her brow furrows, uncertainty flashing. I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Relax. I’m joking. Mostly.”
Then—because I can’t help myself—I add, “But, you know, I think there’ll have to be rules. Trey’s rules for a happy marriage.”
I want to make you cum every day and breed you until you crave nothing but my cock…
Whoa. Where thefuckdid that come from?
Please, God. Don’t let me have a breeding kink.
Not now. Not while she’s still drying her hair and trying to look at me like I’msafe.
I clear my throat. “Rule one,” I start, like I’ve totally got my shit together. “Don’t ever, ever let me catch you sneaking chocolate when I’ve said we’re sharing it. Rule two. No leaving me without warning. Rule three. You can’t fall in love with anyone else. Rule four…” I pause, watching her closely, teasing just to see that spark light behind her eyes. “…you can make up your own. I’m not heartless. I’m negotiable.”
Her lips twitch, a sound caught between a laugh and disbelief. “I…I don’t know if I can handle all your rules,” she says, her voice playful now—soft but braver. There’s mischief there, flickering to life like the first match strike in the dark.
I grin, dimples cutting deep. “You don’t have to handle them all at once. Rule five. You have to laugh at my terrible jokes. Rule six. You have to stop me when I try to do something stupid.” I hold up a hand. “Like climbing onto the roof at midnight. Or trying to break up celebrity couples on Raya.”
She giggles—light, pure, the kind of sound that cuts straight through my chest and lodges there. “I think I can handle those,” she says, eyes brightening. “Maybe. But…what’s a Raya?”
“Dating app,” I say. She still looks lost. “Basically, you look at someone’s face and decide whether it’s kissable.”
Or fuckable,my brain adds helpfully.
Her grin widens, curls bouncing as she shakes her head, and something deep inside me tightens—part pride, part protectiveness, part,oh shit, I’m in trouble.
“O-oh. Okay. Fine,” she says softly. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” I murmur, letting my voice dip low, teasing, the air stretching tight between us. “Because if you break any of the rules…”
I trail off, watching her swallow, the pink climbing her throat.
“…there will be consequences.”
The words hang there—heavy, deliberate, laced with everything I’m not supposed to want.
Her laugh comes out a little louder this time—free. She curls in on herself, the robe slipping slightly at her shoulder, and I catch a flash of pale skin, the faintest tremor of warmth against all the cold November air pressing at the windows.
That sound—her laugh—it’s like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. It fills the cracks in the walls, in me. The heater hums quietly, the city outside reduced to a hush of rain and passing headlights.
She’s perched on the edge of the bed, wrapped up tight but glowing in a way she wasn’t before. There’s a spark now, tiny but alive, burning right there behind her eyes. For the first time sinceshe crashed into my orbit, she doesn’t look like she’s drowning. She looks like she’s learning how to breathe again.
I step closer, slow, like I might scare the moment away. “I do have a serious question for you,” I say, tone dropping low.
Her brows lift, the playful spark dimming into something softer. “What is it?”
I let the silence stretch, let the sound of her breathing fill the space between us. Then I lean down, close enough for my voice to brush her skin.
