I swallow, my fingers stilling in his hair.
“That’s a very Kairo answer,” I murmur.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm against my skin. “What about you? Did you ever picture yourself married?”
I stare up at the canopy above us. “I used to when I was younger. A normal wedding with someone who actually chose me. Not … this.”
He’s quiet again. Then, asks softly, “Do you really hate being married to me?”
Wasn’t expecting that question. I think about it, really think, and I give him an honest answer.
“I hate parts of it,” I admit. “The way it started. The way you … took me. But right now? Lying here with you? I don’t hate this moment.”
He turns his head and presses a slow kiss just below my navel.
“Good,” he whispers. “Because I’m not letting you go, not ever.”
I huff a small laugh. “Possessive much?”
“Extremely.” He smiles against my skin. “What’s your favorite color?”
I blink at the sudden change. “What?”
“Favorite color,” he repeats, lazy and curious.
“I thought from all your stalking, you would have known that,” I tease.
He smirks. “I know a lot about you, but not that.”
I smile despite myself. “Deep green, like the forest after it rains. Yours?”
“Red,” he says without hesitation. “The color your cheeks turn when you’re trying not to moan my name.”
I laugh and lightly smack his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
He catches my hand and kisses my palm. “What about kids?” he asks, quieter now. “Do you want them?”
I go still. The question feels heavier than the others, especially with the fact that he feels determined to knock me up.
“I … used to think I did,” I say honestly. “But after everything with my father, after being sold like I was just an asset … I don’t know anymore.”
He’s silent for a long moment, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
“I never wanted them before,” he admits. “Never saw the point. But with you …” He exhales slowly. “The idea of you carrying my child doesn’t scare me. It feels … right. Like the only thing in this world that would make sense.”
My heart flutters in my chest. “That’s a terrifying answer,” I whisper.
“I know.” He lifts his head to look at me, eyes soft but intense. “But I’m not going to lie to you, Summer. Not about this.”
I run my fingers through his hair again, quieter now.
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I murmur. “Being married, for real.”
He turns his head and kisses the inside of my wrist.
“Yeah,” he says simply. “We are.”
We fall quiet again, the sound of the waterfall in the distance mixing with the gentle rustle of the jungle. His head stays on my stomach, my fingers in his hair, and for once it doesn’t feel like a battle.
