Chapter Ten
KAMIYAH
The second the door closes behind my aunt, something breaks in me. The breaking begins as a quiet tremor under the ribs. A tightening in the throat. A shiver that wouldn’t stop.
Caden saw it. Of course he did. Because he crosses the room and folds me into his arms before I can pretend I’m okay. And God help me—his arms feel like the only safe place I have left.
Now, an hour later, we sit in his bedroom because I physically can’t be in the same room where my aunt’s voice still echoes in the air.
I sit on the edge of the bed wearing one of his shirts—the soft gray one. It hangs off my shoulder, the hem brushing my thighs.
He’s pacing, frustrated, running through legal strategies with his lawyer over the phone.
I watch him.
Tall, focused, furious on my behalf.
Furious for me.
No one has ever fought for me like this.
Not once.
Not ever.
When he ends the call, he scrubs a hand down his face. “Okay,” he says. “We have a plan. It’s messy, but it’s a start.”
I nod, though my body feels like it’s made of glass.
He sits beside me, shoulders still tight. “She’s trying to destroy your credibility,” he says softly. “But we’re not going to let her. My lawyer found a way to challenge her claim to authority. It’ll slow her down.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
Slow her down.
Not stop her.
He cups the back of my head gently. “Hey. Look at me.”
I do.
And everything I’ve been holding back—fear, anger, grief, longing—pours out in the space between us. “I’m so tired,” I whisper. “I’m tired of fighting her. Tired of being afraid of what she’ll take from me next. Tired of choosing between people I love and the consequences she threatens.”
His eyes soften. “You’re not alone anymore.”
“But I wasn’t supposed to drag you into this,” I say. “I wasn’t supposed to feel—”
I stop myself.
Too late.
His jaw works. “Feel what?”
I look at him, really look at him—his fierce expression, his beautiful eyes, the way he’s watching me like I’m something worth fighting for. And the truth comes out.
“Everything,” I whisper. “I feel everything I shouldn’t.”
His breath catches.
He reaches for me slowly, giving me every chance to pull away.
I don’t.
His fingers skim my cheek. My neck. The line of my jaw.
And then his mouth is on mine.
Not hungry.
Not rushed.
Just…inevitable.
His kiss is gentle at first—soft, unbearably tender—like he’s afraid I’ll break. I’m already broken. But not in the way he fears.
I kiss him back, hands sliding up his chest. His breath shudders. He deepens the kiss, lips moving with a slow intensity that makes my knees go weak even though I’m sitting.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips: “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I shake my head. “I don’t.”
He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.
Then he kisses me again—deep, molten, consuming—and I feel heat bloom under my skin, warmth spreading everywhere his hands trace.
He lifts me gently into his lap, my legs straddling his waist. The shift steals my breath. His hands slide to my hips, holding me like I’m something fragile. Precious.
His forehead drops to mine.
“This isn’t pretend for me,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”
“It’s not pretend for me either,” I breathe.
He closes his eyes like that confession undoes something inside him.
Then he lays me back against the pillows, bracing himself over me.
His shirt—his shirt—falls open at my shoulder as he kisses down my neck, slow and reverent. I arch into him, fingers burying in his hair.
He groans softly.
“Careful,” he warns, voice thick with desire. “You keep touching me like that, and I won’t be able to take this slow.”
“I don’t want slow,” I whisper.
He freezes.
Looks at me.
Searches my face like he’s looking for doubt.
There’s none.
Something in him breaks then—not violently, but like a dam giving way to something deeper, warmer, unstoppable. He kisses me again, deeper, his body lowering over mine, heat and need and emotion tangled together in every movement.
The rest unfolds like a breath finally released.
Soft touches.
Long, slow kisses.
Clothes slipping away.
Bodies meeting in quiet desperation.
A whispered name against skin.
His hands holding me like I matter.
My fingers clinging to him like he’s the only steady thing in my world.
No rush.
No fear.
Just us.
Exactly where we were always meant to be.
And when he finally gathers me against his chest afterward, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, everything inside me knows my heart will always belong to Caden. Now. Forever.