This isn’t just about desire. It’s something deeper that feels dangerously close to perfect.
I fist the hem of her shirt and peel it up her body until she lifts her arms, letting me pull it over her head before tossing it aside. She looks impossibly beautiful with the moonlight slanting across her smooth skin.
I lean in, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. My mouth lingers as I breathe her in. When she shivers, the reaction sends a surge of satisfaction through me. My lips trail along the delicate line of her collarbone, peppering her with kisses before drifting lower.
I already know I’ll never get enough of this woman. I want to inhale her like a drug.
She arches as I take one pebbled tip into my mouth. The sound that breaks loose from her is something between a sigh and a gasp. Her fingers tunnel through my hair, tightening as if trying to hold me in place.
My hands rise to cup her breasts. She fits perfectly within my palms, and I squeeze gently, wanting to memorize the weight and shape along with the way her body reacts to my every touch.
With one final tug of my lips, I release her nipple before turning my head toward the other and drawing it into my mouth. Her hips shift, searching for friction, her body silently begging for more.
And God help me, I want to be the only one who satisfies her desires. This woman is turning out to be so much more than I expected.
I scoop her up without hesitation and then carry her down the hall toward my bedroom. She lets out a startled laugh that turns into more of a shaky breath as her arms tighten around my neck. Her body molds against mine like it was always meant to be there.
Each step is steadier than the last. Certain. Like my body already knows where this is headed.
And the truth is, I’ve never wanted anything more.
When I first blurted out the idea of marriage, I told myself it could be simple. Practical. A solution to a problem. Something that made sense on paper, with clean lines and clear rules. An arrangement we could both survive.
Even then, a part of me knew it was never going to be that easy.
There was never going to be a version of this that stayed platonic.
Not when it comes to her.
31
Kia
Laiken doesn’t rush or falter as he carries me to the bedroom. I curl into him until my cheek can rest against his bare chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat tethering me to the here and now. There’s nothing about this moment that scares me. In fact, it’s the opposite.
This man makes me feel safe.
The realization settles deep. Safety like this isn’t something you stumble into. It’s something you risk everything for. A part of me wants to stay exactly like this forever, tucked against him, suspended in this quiet space where nothing else can touch me. Hidden from all the choices waiting outside these walls. From the consequences. From the future I’m not brave enough to believe in yet.
The bedroom door clicks shut behind us, the sound soft but final, as if the world has been gently locked out. He lowers me onto the mattress with care, his hands lingering before he straightens.
His steady gaze settles on me, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of my own nakedness in a way that makes my pulse skitter. Heat crawls up my neck, and I lift my hands to cover my breasts.
“Please don’t,” he murmurs.
I peek up at him through my lashes as he gives a small shake of his head.
“I don’t want you to ever hide from me.” His hands close gently around my wrists, his grip loose enough that I could pull away if I wanted to, and he guides my hands back to the mattress. His gaze stays pinned to mine, making it impossible to look away.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, as if it’s a truth and not an opinion. “I hope you know that.”
The knot in my chest loosens in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words until this moment.
He lifts one of my feet and presses a kiss against the arch. The touch is so worshipful, it steals the air from my lungs. It’s such a small thing, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing down my spine before curling deep at the bottom of my belly.
His mouth traces the length of my leg, as if every inch deserves his attention, as if I’m not something to be rushed through but savored. No one has ever caressed me like this or taken their time. The realization is just as overwhelming as the delicious warmth spreading through me.
In the past, sex was never anything more than a means to an end. Quick hands and rushed moments. Bodies colliding without much thought beyond the finish line. Guys who’ve already been satisfied while I lay beneath them, staring at the ceiling, waiting to feel something until eventually I stopped expecting it.
