"I chose you because underneath all the manipulation and strategy, there's something real. Something worth choosing." I turned in the tub to face him. Water sloshed over the edges. "Do you love me?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "Completely. Probably more than I should."
"Then that's real. Everything else—the manipulation, the money, the debt payments—that's just how we got here. But what we have now is real." I cupped his face. "Stop apologizing for how we started. Start focusing on what we're building."
He kissed me. Soft and careful. Like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking.
"You're too good for me," he murmured against my lips.
"Probably. But you're stuck with me anyway."
We stayed in the bath until the water started cooling. Didn't talk about the trial or the testimony or what came next. Just existed together in the quiet warmth. His arms around me. My head on his shoulder. Two people who'd found each other through morally questionable means but loved each other anyway.
Eventually he stood and helped me out. Dried me off with a towel so soft it must've cost a fortune. Led me to the bedroom still damp and naked.
The bed was already turned down. He'd had someone prepare it while we were in the bath. Fresh sheets. Pillows fluffed. Subtle lighting that made everything look softer. Gentler.
"Lie down," he said.
I climbed onto the bed and stretched out on my back. Watched him move around the room. Dimming lights further. Putting on music—something instrumental and slow. Setting out lube and condoms on the nightstand.
When he finally joined me on the bed, his expression was intense. Almost reverent.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm just looking at you. Memorizing this." He traced a finger down my chest. "You testified today knowing it could destroy your career. Knowing it would expose you to judgment and scrutiny. You did it anyway because you love me."
"Yes."
"That kind of loyalty is rare. Especially from someone like you. Someone with options. Someone who could walk away and rebuild somewhere else." His hand splayed across my stomach. "I don't deserve it."
"Stop deciding what you deserve. I'm choosing to give it to you. That's enough."
He kissed me again. Slower this time. Deeper. Taking his time exploring my mouth like we had all night. Which we did.
His mouth moved down my neck. Found the spot below my ear that made me gasp. Sucked gently while his hands roamed my body. Learning me. Cataloging what made me respond.
By the time he reached my chest I was already hard. Already desperate for more. But he refused to rush. Took his time with each nipple. Licking. Biting gently. Paying attention to how I responded and adjusting accordingly.
"Sandro—" His name came out strangled.
"Shh. We're not rushing tonight. I'm going to take my time with you. Make you feel everything." He kissed down my stomach. "Make you forget about courtrooms and testimony and everything except how good I can make you feel."
"You're already making me feel good."
"Not good enough yet." He bypassed my cock entirely. Kissed along my hip. Down my thigh. Behind my knee. Places no one had ever paid attention to before.
It was torture. Perfect, agonizing torture.
When he finally wrapped his hand around my cock I nearly came from that alone.
"Not yet," he said. "You don't get to come until I'm inside you."
"Then get inside me already."
"Patience." But he reached for the lube. Slicked his fingers. "Spread your legs."
I obeyed. Let him position me exactly how he wanted. Vulnerable and open and completely at his mercy.
