She's meeting me thrust for thrust now, her hips rising to match my rhythm, and I can feel her starting to climb again. The way her breath comes faster, the way she's clenching around me.
"Tell me who you belong to."
"You." The word is barely a whisper. "I belong to you, Nick."
"That's right." I angle her hips, changing the angle so I'm hitting deeper, harder. "You're mine.My wife.And I'm going to spend every day of our marriage showing you exactly what that means."
She's close. I can feel her climax building in her body, in the desperate sounds she's making, in the way her nails dig crescents into my shoulders.
I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit, stroking in tight circles as I fuck her harder. Her whole body tightens beneath me, her back arching, her breath coming in ragged gasps that match the rhythm of my thrusts.
"Come with me," I demand against her mouth. "I want to feel you."
She's right there, balanced on the edge, and I can feel my own release building, coiling tighter with every stroke. I thrust deep,grinding against her clit, and her fingers dig into my back as she cries out.
"Nick—"
"I've got you." I drive into her again, again, chasing the pleasure that's spiraling through both of us. "Let go, angel. I've got you."
Her orgasm crashes through her first, her pussy clenching around me so hard that my vision whites out at the edges. The feel of her coming undone beneath me—shaking, gasping my name—drags me over the edge with her.
I bury myself deep and let go, groaning into the curve of her neck as I spill inside her.
The rage from earlier has gone silent. The cameras, the accusations, all those nameless, faceless bastards waiting to pick apart our happiness—they can't touch us here. In this bed, in this moment, there's only Avery and me.
I’ve got the woman I love, warm and whole in my arms. I won’t let anything harm her.
Or there will be hell to pay.
3
AVERY
Nick’s heartbeat is thefirst thing I'm aware of when I wake up that next morning. It’s steady and slow beneath my ear, the rhythm of deep sleep.
I don't move. Don't want to disturb this moment, this perfect stillness where his body is warm against mine and the world hasn't yet started making demands on us. My cheek rests on his chest, rising and falling with each breath. His arm is draped across my back, heavy and possessive even in sleep. Our legs are tangled beneath the sheet, skin against skin, and I let myself simply exist here.
Safe and comfortable.
His.
The soreness in my muscles is a pleasant ache, evidence of last night, and of how thoroughly he loved me. The anxiety that gripped me yesterday outside House of Delaire feels distant now, muted by hours of his hands and mouth and the wicked things he whispered against my skin in the dark.
The stress of yesterday isn’t gone. I'm not naive enough to believe one night could erase it completely. But my nervesare quieter. The worry has eased into something I can exhale through now.
Nick stirs beneath me, and I feel the change in his breathing before he speaks, the shift from sleep to waking, his arm tightening reflexively around me.
"Morning." His voice is rough, graveled with sleep, and the sound of it moves through me like a physical thing.
I tilt my head back to look at him. Dark hair disheveled, jaw shadowed with stubble, those blue eyes still soft and unguarded in the way they only are first thing in the morning. Before the world intrudes. Before he becomes Dominic Baine again.
I smile as I gaze at him. "Good morning."
His hand slides up my spine, fingers tracing my skin, and even this simple touch sends warmth pooling low in my belly. We've been together nearly two years, and still my body responds to him like it's the first time. Like it will always be the first time.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, his mouth lingering. "I'm going to start the shower."
He extracts himself from the tangle of sheets and limbs, and I make a small sound of protest at the loss of his warmth. I watch him cross the bedroom, naked and unhurried, and my breath catches the way it always does. The broad planes of his back, the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he moves. The confidence in every step, a man entirely comfortable in his own body, in his own power.
