His arms tighten around me. “You deserve a place that's yours. Somewhere you can create without worrying about anything else.”
I pull back, face wet, mascara probably ruined, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “When did you do this?”
“I had it ready for the gala,” he admits. “I was going to show you that night. A thank you for everything you did on the campaign.” He trails off. We both know what happened then.
“You built me a dream,” I whisper. “Even when you didn't know if I'd ever see it.”
“I hoped you would.” He brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I always hoped.”
I pull him into the room, tugging him toward the windows. “Look at this light. Do you know what I could do with this light? I could paint for hours in here. I could—“ I gasp, spotting something I missed before. A small refrigerator in the corner. “Is that for?—“
“Keeping certain paints and materials at optimal temperature. Celeste said some things are sensitive to heat.”
I burst into fresh tears.
“Baby, are you okay? You're scaring me a little.”
“I'm happy,” I wail. “I'm so happy I can't contain it. This is what happens when I'm too happy. I leak.”
He laughs then, pulling me back into his arms. “Leak all you want. I've got you.”
I cling to him in the middle of my perfect studio, crying and laughing and feeling so full I might burst.
“I love you,” I say into his chest.
“I love you too.” He kisses the top of my head.
We go back upstairsfor a quick shower and an early dinner. We're both emotionally exhausted and sleep-deprived, but neither of us wants this day to end yet.
He's relaxing on the couch, reviewing emails on his laptop, nursing a glass of whiskey while I scroll on my phone next to him. I'm learning the things he likes doing. He's becoming part of my life in ways I couldn't have imagined a few months back. The way the light hits him, he could be a model posing for a tasteful ad. Men's clothes. Whiskey. The watch visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves.
“Kai...”
He lifts his head. “Yes?”
With a surge of confidence, I take his laptop and place it on the coffee table. I straddle his lap carefully, and his hands grab my hips like it's the most natural thing. Our lips meet in a kiss that's both tender and urgent.
“I've missed this,” he breathes, his voice husky as he kisses me deeply.
“Me too,” I whisper, my hands tangling in his hair.
We make out slowly, savoring every moment, every touch. It's not just about the physical connection. It's about healing the spaces between us. Reminding each other what we mean.
Desire pools low in my belly as I start to grind against him. Kai groans, the sound deep and guttural, as he hardens beneath me. A soft moan escapes my lips, and the tension between us shifts. Intoxicating. His hands slip under my shirt, his touch warm and reverent as it skims over my skin.
“Emma,” he breathes, his voice rough with need.
I lift my arms, letting him pull the shirt over my head. It falls to the floor, forgotten. His eyes darken as they roam over my exposed skin, his gaze igniting a heat that spreads through me like wildfire.
“God, you're beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in to trail soft, lingering kisses along my collarbone. His lips are warm, his breath hot against my skin, and I arch into him, my body singing with every caress. “Naughty girl. No bra.” He teases me as I squirm under his touch.
My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, movements frantic and unsteady as I tug it open. I need to feel him. His skin against mine. The connection between us tangible and unbroken. I run my hands over his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos, my fingers skimming over bruises that haven't yet faded.
“Careful, baby,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper. My hands pause briefly before continuing their exploration.
Our movements grow more urgent as we shed the rest of our clothes. He shifts slightly, wincing as he adjusts his injured leg, and I move quickly to help, sliding his trousers and boxers down carefully.
