Chapter 20
Nick
I opened the door, still tasting her on my tongue—Kennedy. That sweetness, the faint trace of her breath and moans and surrender. It was branded into me now, a flavor I wasn’t letting go of anytime soon.
And then there was him.
Jake stood on the other side of the threshold like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t already failed her once.
My jaw tightened. “What do you want?” The growl in my voice wasn’t planned—it just was. Automatic. Protective. Territorial.
“Where’s Kennedy?” he asked, like he had the right to demand anything from me.
I planted myself in the doorway, arms crossed over my chest. “You mean my wife? Not your business. Turn around.”
He stepped forward. “I’m not leaving until I see her.”
My stare sharpened. “You really think I’m going to let you in after everything you and your family pulled? Fuck no.”
“She’s my sister.”
“She’s my wife,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “And she’s finally safe. You don’t get to fuck with that.”
He tried to shoulder past me. Instinct kicked in. I blocked him with ease, muscles coiled, ready. “This is your one warning, asshole.”
“She needs—”
“What? More control? Another man telling her what’s best?” My voice dropped, all venom and ice. “She doesn’t need you. She chose me.”
Then I heard her.
“It’s okay, Nick.”
I glanced back.
There she was—bare legs, messy hair, wrapped in one of my shirts like she’d always belonged in it. And fuck me, I felt that same surge of pride I always did when I looked at her. She looked wrecked. Loved. Satisfied. Mine.
“Kennedy…” I said, my tone sharp. Not at her—for her. “You don’t owe him anything.”
She met my eyes, calm but resolute. “I know. But I want to talk to him.”
I didn’t like it, but I stepped back. Barely. Enough to let her make her choice—but not enough to make Jake forget who the hell ran this place now.
I stepped back, but I didn’t give up ground. Jake was already bristling, eyes locked on me like I was the damn villain in his sister’s story.
“Are you serious about her?” he asked, fists clenched at his sides like he was one wrong answer away from throwing the first punch.
My jaw ticked. I didn’t want to get into a dick-measuring contest with her brother, but I wasn’t going to back down either. “You think I’d have married her if I wasn’t?”
His nostrils flared. “Was this just a bet?”
The sound that left me wasn’t quite a laugh—it was darker than that. A low growl stirred in my chest, and I had to resist the urge to shove him into the hallway just to shut him up.
“No,” I bit out. “It was never a game. Not to me.”
He stepped in like he wanted to test my patience. I didn’t flinch. “What happens now?” he asked. “You just take her away and pretend the rest of her life doesn’t exist? What about Gary?”
And there it was—the weight of that name. Of all the bullshit she carried because of it.
I moved in, body coiled, voice low and controlled. “Gary can go fuck himself."
The air charged between us like we were seconds away from detonating. Kennedy stood just behind me—I felt her presence even before she touched me. Her silence burned hotter than any argument.
Jake turned toward her. “Kennedy—”
“No.” He cut her off before she could speak, voice sharp and splintering. “You’re throwing your whole life away. Your career, your future, for him?”
“That’s enough,” I snapped, stepping between them again, jaw tight.
She didn’t need to defend herself. Not with me here. Not against this.
“She made her choice the night she kissed me back,” I said, voice even but laced with iron. “And I’m not letting anyone make her regret that. Not even you.”
Jake’s eyes flicked between us, his anger dimming just enough for reality to slip through. He saw it. The truth. That this wasn’t some fling or mistake. That she’d walked through hell and still chose me on the other side.
“This isn’t your fight,” I said, softer now but no less firm.
Kennedy stepped forward, her hand landing on my shoulder. Just that simple touch was enough to steady the storm building in my chest.
We were in this together. And I wasn’t letting anyone rewrite that. Not her brother. Not Gary. Not anyone.
Jake’s eyes narrowed, his mouth curling into a sneer. “You’re throwing everything away, Kennedy. Ruining your reputation for this guy? After one night?”
The heat hit me instantly—boiling up from my gut, sharp and blinding. Protective didn’t even begin to cover it. But I kept it leashed. Barely.
Kennedy straightened beside me. Chin lifted. Shoulders back. My girl—on fire.
“This isn’t about you,” she said, voice hard as steel. “Or what you think I’m ruining. This is about me finally making my own choices.”
Jake laughed. Loud. Ugly. “Choices? You married him after one night. You think that’s a choice? Spread your fucking legs wider, why don’t you?”
I was in his face before the last word finished leaving his mouth.
“You don’t ever talk to her like that,” I growled, my voice low and deadly. “You don’t get to judge her. You weren’t there when she needed someone. I was.”
The air crackled. My pulse thundered in my ears.
He faltered—just for a second—but it was enough. He saw the storm he’d walked into. And he knew damn well I wasn’t backing down.
“Nick’s right.” She looked Jake dead in the eyes, no flinch, no hesitation. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. And you don’t get to dictate who I choose or what I want anymore.”
Every word out of her mouth hit like a lightning strike. And fuck, it made me want to kiss the fire right out of her.
Jake tried to scoff again, but it didn’t have the same bite. “You really think this ends well? Everyone’s going to talk.”
“I don’t care,” she said. Calm. Clear. Fucking unshakable. “They already are.”
My heart slammed against my ribs at the way she stood her ground. Like I was something worth fighting for.
“I love him.” Soft. But sure. Like a goddamn promise.
Silence rippled out around us. The kind that cracked something open in your chest.
I turned back to Jake, stepping into his space until he had no choice but to look up at me.
“You try to bully her again,” I said, voice like smoke and steel, “and I swear to God, you’ll learn real fast who the fuck I am.”
He held my gaze for a beat too long. Then he looked at Kennedy—really looked at her. Something passed over his face. Anger. Resentment. Resignation.
“You know Gary’s not going to let this go,” he said flatly.
Kennedy didn’t blink. “I could give a shit what Gary likes.”
“Well, you should.”
Jake’s words hung in the air like a fucking gauntlet. His fists clenched, jaw tight, eyes lit with the kind of fury only a brother could summon.
But this time? I wasn’t backing down.
He moved before I even processed the motion—a punch, fast and emotional, nothing clean about it. I sidestepped easily, my reflexes sharper than his temper. His fist cut through air. Mine didn’t even twitch.
“Nice try,” I muttered, stepping in close. Too close for comfort. I wanted him to feel it.
He froze, just for a second. That flash of surprise in his eyes was all I needed to see.
I leaned in, my voice like gravel and smoke. “She’s mine now.”
His nostrils flared, but I didn’t stop.
“You want to cry to Gary? Your mom? The fucking Queen of England? Go for it.” I gave a slow shake of my head, calm and deadly. “It won’t change a damn thing. This is official.”
I meant every word. No hesitation. No room for argument. I wasn’t just claiming her—I was drawing a line he’d never cross again.
Kennedy didn’t shrink beside me. I caught the way her fingers balled at her sides. The way she held her ground like she’d been born to do it.
“A piece of paper means nothing,” Jake snapped, his voice laced with disdain.
I let out a low laugh—dark, cold. “That’s cute.
You really think it’s just a piece of paper?
” I stepped forward, slow and deliberate, watching his expression tighten.
“She’s wearing my fucking ring, asshole.
And if that’s not good enough for you…” I tilted my head, eyes locked on his.
“Why don’t you head upstairs and take a look at the bloodstained sheets? ”
Jake flinched, just slightly.
“She’s mine. In every goddamn sense of the word. My wife in every way that matters. And there’s not a single thing you can do about it.”
His gaze cut to Kennedy—disgust, fury, helplessness twisting his features into something ugly.
“Keep looking at her like that,” I warned, my voice dropping low, lethal. “And I’ll fucking teach you how to hit someone who fights back.”
He didn’t say a word, but the tension between us snapped taut like a tripwire. I didn’t blink. Didn’t back down.
Because he needed to understand: I wasn’t bluffing.
And Kennedy wasn’t his to protect anymore.
She was mine.
“You should go,” she said softly—but her tone was steel. “And Jake? Don’t come back.”
God, I’d never been prouder of her. She wasn’t just mine. She was herself—fierce and fucking magnificent.
Jake looked between us one last time, that anger still burning beneath the surface, but it was hollow now. Powerless. He turned and left without another word.
The door clicked shut.
And just like that, the storm passed.
I let out a breath, slow and steady, before turning to Kennedy. She stared at the door like it might swing open again. Like the past could still force its way in.
I shut the door with more force than necessary and leaned back against it, jaw tight, lungs burning. The silence that followed felt like the moment right before a storm breaks—too still, too charged.
“Come here.”
She didn’t even pause.
Kennedy walked straight into my arms like she belonged there, like the only thing she knew for certain was me. I wrapped her up, pulling her in so tight I felt her heartbeat through my shirt. I needed this—needed her like oxygen. Everything else could burn.
“No one’s taking you from me,” I murmured against her hair. Her scent hit me—something soft, sweet, and all hers—and it twisted something deep in my chest. My hands splayed across her back, grounding me, holding her like I never wanted to let go.
She tipped her face up, eyes shining, fierce and open. “You really meant it out there.”
“Every word.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, slow, deliberate. My thumb brushed her cheek. “This isn’t a game. It never was.”
Her breath caught, just a little. “I didn’t think you’d stand up to him like that.”
I let out a breath—sharp, unfiltered. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re not a fucking possession for your brother or Gary to trade and guard like you don’t get a say. You’re not theirs.” I cupped her jaw, voice going low. “You’re mine.”
She didn’t flinch. She leaned into it.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered, her voice muffled against my chest.
I stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Like I’m actually free.” Her words broke something open in me. “For so long I was trying to be who everyone wanted. Perfect daughter. Perfect fiancée. But with you…” She looked up again. “It feels real. Like I can breathe.”
I nodded, tightening my arms around her. “Because it is. This is real. You don’t have to play a role anymore, Ken. Not with me.”
Her arms wrapped tighter around my waist, head resting just below my collarbone. That was it. No need for big declarations or flowery shit. Just her holding on like she finally found solid ground.
And me, holding her like I’d tear down the fucking world to keep it that way.
Because this? Us?
This felt like the only thing that had ever made sense.
And I wasn’t giving it up. Not for anyone.
I tilted her chin up, my thumb brushing over her lips. "Now," I murmured, my voice a low growl. "I want you to show me just how much you belong to me."
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew what I needed, what I craved. Slowly, deliberately, she sank to her knees in front of me, her hands trailing down my sides before resting on my thighs. The sight of her like that—so willing, so eager—sent a surge of heat straight through me.
I was already hard, aching for her. I pulled myself out, my cock straining towards her mouth. Her breath hitched as she looked up at me, lips parting in anticipation.
"Take it," I commanded, my voice rough with need.
Without another word, she leaned in and took me into her mouth. The sensation was immediate—hot, wet, perfect. She moved slowly at first, savoring the taste of me, her tongue swirling around the head before taking me deeper.
"Fuck, Kennedy," I groaned, my hand tangling in her hair as I guided her rhythm. "Your mouth was made for my dick."
She moaned around me; the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. My grip tightened in her hair as I began to thrust into her mouth, each movement more demanding than the last. She took it all—every inch, every thrust—her eyes locked on mine the entire time.
The sight of her on her knees for me, so willing to please, pushed me closer to the edge. Her lips stretched around my cock, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. My control was slipping fast.
I could feel it building—the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was ready to snap. "I'm gonna come," I warned, my voice strained with the effort of holding back.
She didn’t stop. If anything, she only intensified her efforts, taking me deeper until I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, I came hard and fast, filling her mouth with everything I had.
She swallowed eagerly, not wasting a drop. But some still escaped—a thin trail of come slipping down her chin as she pulled back slightly. The sight of it—the evidence of what we’d just shared—made my pulse race all over again.
I reached down and wiped it away with my thumb before bringing it to her lips. She took it into her mouth without hesitation, sucking gently as she cleaned off the last remnants of my release.
"Good girl," I murmured softly, pulling her up into a fierce kiss. "You’re such a good wife."