"I know. I've got you."
He did. His hands guided my hips. Helped me find the rhythm. Let me lead but supported every movement.
I wrapped my hand around myself. Stroked in time with the movement of my hips.
"That's it," Matteo encouraged. "Take your pleasure. Show me we're real. Show me this is happening."
I moved harder. Faster. Chasing the orgasm building in my body. The pleasure mixed with emotion until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
"Matteo—I'm close—"
"Let go. Come for me. Show me."
I changed the angle one more time. Ground down. Hit that perfect spot inside that sent pleasure exploding through every nerve ending.
The orgasm slammed through me. I came with Matteo's name on my lips and tears streaming down my face. Relief and joy and overwhelming emotion all crashing together.
Matteo cursed. His hands pulled me down into a desperate kiss as he thrust up once, twice, and came hard.
I collapsed against his chest. Both of us trembling. Both overwhelmed.
We lay there for a long time. Both trying to process. Both trying to accept that the nightmare was over and we'd actually won.
Eventually I rolled off him. We cleaned up quickly and got back into bed. Matteo pulled me against his chest. His arm around my waist. His face buried in my neck.
"I love you," he whispered. "We get to keep this. Keep each other. Build an actual life together."
"We do." I turned in his arms to face him. "We get years. Decades if we're lucky. Not stolen moments at prison visits. An actual future."
We lay there in comfortable silence. Both processing everything that had happened. The verdict. The celebration. The overwhelming relief of knowing we had time.
Eventually Matteo shifted. Pulled me up to sitting. His expression was serious. Vulnerable in ways I rarely saw.
"Stefan, I need to ask you something."
My heart started racing. "What?"
Matteo took a breath. "Marry me."
The world stopped.
"What?"
"Marry me. I know it's crazy. I know I'm a criminal who just barely avoided prison and you're the son of my enemy." His words came faster. More urgent. "But I want to marry you. Want everyone to know you're mine permanently. Want legaldocuments that say we chose each other. Want to give you a family. Want—"
"Yes." I cut him off. "Yes, I'll marry you."
He stopped. Stared at me. "You're sure? You don't want time to think about it?"
"I've been thinking about it since the moment you told me I was yours and you were mine. Since the moment I chose to stay. Since the moment I cut off my family to be with you." I cupped his face. "I'm sure. I want to marry you."
Matteo kissed me. Deep and thorough and full of promise and relief and love and everything I'd been feeling but couldn't articulate.
When we broke apart, I said: "But I need you to understand what this means to me. What I'm actually saying yes to."
"Tell me."
"For my entire life, family was something I was born into. Something I couldn't choose. Something that controlled me and diminished me and treated me like property." My voice was thick with emotion. "The Romanos never asked what I wanted. Never let me decide who I was or who I wanted to be. They assigned me a role—pretty decoration—and expected me to perform it for the rest of my life."
