"Eve, you're going to be my undoing."
I reach for his cock. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."
He's heavy in my hand. Beautiful. Mine. I take him in my mouth, and his groan echoes through the bedroom.
His hands find my hair, gentle but possessive, and I take him deeper. I've never done this before Nathan—was too insecure, too afraid—but with him, I want everything.
I want to own him the way he owns me.
"Fuck, Eve," he breathes. "You're perfect. So fucking perfect."
I work him with my mouth and hands until he's trembling, then pull back. He tries to protest, but I'm already climbing back onto his lap, positioning myself over him.
"I need you inside me," I whisper, sinking down slowly.
We both groan at the sensation. Here, in this house, in the middle of the ocean, I'm claiming him as thoroughly as he's claimed me.
I set the pace, moving on him with confidence I didn't know I had. His hands grip my hips, helping me move, and when his thumb finds my clit I gasp.
"Come for me again," he commands, and I realize he's never fully surrendered control. Just shared it. "Let me feel you."
The orgasm crashes through me, and I bury my face in his neck to muffle my cry. He follows seconds later, holding me tight against him as we both shudder.
We stay connected for long moments, breathing hard, hearts racing in sync.
Chapter 20 - Nathan
She's still sleeping when I wake.
The morning light filters through the villa's windows, painting Eve's red hair in shades of copper and gold across my pillow. She's on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the other resting on the space where I'd been. Even in sleep, she reaches for me.
The thought fills me with a satisfaction so profound it's almost painful.
I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips part slightly with each breath. The sheet has slipped down to her waist, exposing the pale curve of her shoulder, the delicate line of her collarbone. She's utterly beautiful. Utterly mine.
For the first time, I feel something close to peace. Not the manic energy that's driven me all these years. Not the obsessive need that's colored every decision. Just... quiet.
Eve is where she belongs. In my bed. In my world. Safe.
I reach out carefully, trailing my fingers through her hair without waking her. Silk. Everything about her is soft, where I'm all hard edges and sharp intent. She's the warmth that's been missing from my carefully constructed empire.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand—Bjorn, confirming the jet is ready. Time to take her home. To the penthouse where she'll wake up every morning just like this, within arm's reach.
I allow myself one more minute of watching her sleep, memorizing the peaceful expression on her face. Then I press a kiss to her temple and slip from the bed to make the arrangements.
Every piece is falling into place.
***
The jet's engines hum beneath us as we level out over the ocean. Eve sits across from me in the cream leather seat, staring out the window at the endless blue below. She's been quiet since we left the villa, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
"Your things are being moved to the penthouse," I say, my voice calm and matter-of-fact. "By the time we land, everything will be settled."
Her head turns sharply, green eyes finding mine. "What?"
"Your loft was never secure," I continue, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. Because it is. "Too many access points. Too many variables I can't control. The penthouse has state-of-the-art security. You'll be safer there."
"You're moving me in." It's not a question. Just a flat statement of fact.
