Nila
JETHRO LOCKED THE door.
The yacht rocked beneath our toes, sedate and savage in its sea-cradle.
The curtains had been drawn across the balcony, the bed turned down by well-trained staff, and all the guests remaining on board were a floor below.
We were the only bedroom on this level.
Private.
Alone.
Swiping a hand through his slicked back hair, Jethro traversed the distance between us. We didn’t speak as the air intensified and love poured from his heart to mine.
The white gold wedding band I’d had fashioned along with a few black diamonds I’d sourced at Diamond Alley graced his finger—absorbing the light rather than sparkling—sucking its life inward, protecting its secrets.
The matching ring hummed on my finger. The large midnight stone grew heavier the closer Jethro came.
“We did it.” His voice teased with disbelief. “We’re married.”
I nodded, a little breathless and a lot nervous. “We are.”
“You’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“There are no more debts. No more threats.”
I moved toward him, stepping onto the silver rug he stood on. Our bodies swayed as a current rocked the yacht, but our eyes never unlocked. “We’re free.”
Breathing hard, Jethro reached for me. His arms wrapped around me, gathering me toward him so the white silk of my gown rippled over my skin and floor.
Stars and moon above were the only elements invited into our room.
The skylight above had a ladder granting access to the private deck.
The nose of the boat was out of bounds to anyone.
We could make love down here with the sky as company or make our way upside and fuck with the air licking our skin.
We could travel the world.
We could kiss and touch and never have to hide our happiness from anyone.
We have so much to look forward to.
Jethro’s gaze drifted to my collar. His tongue swept over his bottom lip as the faint sparkle of diamonds kissed his chin. “You should know something.”
I froze in his arms, my heart rate spiking. “Know what?”
He shifted me in his embrace, cupping my throat with gentle fingers.
His thumb ran along the diamonds. “You admitted you didn’t want me to find a way to remove this.
You’ll never wear another necklace as long as you live.
No matter where you go. No matter what you do, this collar will be with you every step. ”
“I know. I want it to be that way.” Resting my hands on his hips, I frowned a little, trying to understand his point. “You put it on me, Jethro. It will stay on until I die.”
His back tightened, the muscles either side of his spine bunching beneath my fingertips. “That’s how I view what happened today.”
“What do you mean?”
His forehead furrowed, shadowing his golden eyes.
“I mean—marriage to me isn’t a simple ceremony and celebration.
Marriage is like your collar. A one-time deal.
Never to break, binding us together until death do us part.
Just like there will never be another necklace, there will never be goodbye between us.
No opportunity to sever what we’ve found. ”
My tummy twisted as flutters entered my core. “That’s how I view it, too. It wasn’t a meaningless vow, Kite. I willingly said the words.”
“But do you fully comprehend that this is it? No other men. No flirtations or dalliances. Me. I’m the last you’ll ever have.” His head dropped. “Is that enough for you?”
I laughed softly. I couldn’t help it. “You’re seriously asking me if you’re enough for me?
” My heart overflowed. “Jethro you’re too much.
You’re everything I could ever hope for.
Why are you feeling insecure?” I snuggled closer, pressing my cheek on his lapel, avoiding the diamond pin through the fabric.
“After everything we’ve been through, everything we said today and yesterday, you’re afraid I’ll divorce you and run? ”
Jethro didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell, his arms binding tighter as if he didn’t trust me not to vanish.
I let silence and the creaking of the yacht ease some of his fear before murmuring, “I suggest you remember the day I ran from you after the welcome luncheon because that’s the one and only time I’ll ever run away.
I chose you with my eyes open, Kite. I know what our connection will mean for you and the struggle I’ll sometimes have to keep giving you what you need.
But I’m not a little girl. I’m a woman who’s chosen her soul-mate.
I’m strong enough to love you unconditionally.
I’m smart enough to know some days will be good and some days will be bad.
And I’m brave enough to solemnly swear that we will be together until the end.
“I don’t want anyone else. You’re my best friend, my rescuer. You’re the man I was born for as decreed by six-hundred-years of pacts. Don’t doubt what we have on the eve of what could be the happiest time of our lives.”
Jethro suddenly groaned, wrapping his arms so tight he bruised me. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I doubted.”
“I know why.”
He raised my chin with a fingertip. “Why?”
I smiled, loving the way the moonlight highlighted the silver in his hair, making him look part god, part majestic sculpture. “Because everything is so good now. It’s hard not to suspect it will all vanish after a lifetime of having everything you loved stripped away.”
He paused, biting his inner cheek. “You’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right.”
His lips tilted crookedly. “To this day, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”
“Good.” Standing on my tiptoes, I whispered, “Now, enough talk of divorce. Let’s enjoy being married first. Stop speaking and take me to bed, Mr. Hawk.”
He jolted, a growl escaping. Letting me go, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me toward the towering mattress and turned down sheets. “It would be my pleasure, Ms. Wea—” His mouth shot closed, his eyes clouding.
I knew his thoughts. Mine had already been over the technicalities. My father had changed his last name to match my mother’s as per the rules of the Debt Inheritance. By right, Jethro should become a Weaver.
However, I had no intention of stripping the heir of Hawksridge his name. The very name he’d always strived to earn and change for the better.
Sitting on the bed in a shower of white lace, I patted the mattress beside me. “I think the term of address you’re looking for is Mrs. Hawk.”
His eyes shot bronze. “Are you sure? You don’t have to take my name. You can keep Weaver if you want—”
“What I want is to belong to you. I want the world to know it. I want the ghosts who battled together for so long to hear it. I want us to become one.” Taking his hand, I yanked him beside me. “Try again, only this time, use the right name.”
Pressing my shoulders, he slowly guided me onto my back. His breath skated over my mouth as he lowered himself beside me. “I’m going to love you until my heart stops beating and then beyond...Mrs. Hawk.”
I shivered. “I’m glad. Because I had the exact same plan, Mr. Hawk.”
He grinned, bowing his head to kiss me.
My heart raced as his tongue slipped past my lips, seducing me with slow licks.
His fingers slinked into my hair, pulling free pins and clips, letting the black strands cascade into a mess on the sheets.
Once every decoration and slide was free, he massaged my scalp, dislodging a few remaining petals from the rice and flower confetti.
“As much as I love you in this dress, I think it’s time it disappeared, don’t you?”
I nodded.
Jethro was mine in every possible way. He would continue to need me. I would continue to need him. We were no longer on our own but a partnership, lovers...a family.
The stress of the wedding left my bloodstream, relaxing my shoulders into the springy bed.
His hands slipped behind me, rolling me onto my stomach as he set to the task of undoing fifty-two pearl buttons down my back.
The panels of lace decorated my skin, revealing the muscles of my spine and risqué glimpses beneath. I didn’t think I’d have time to sew something so delicate, but it’d been cathartic for me to sketch and create something so stunningly simple but intricately beautiful.
Goosebumps erupted as Jethro’s knuckles brushed my skin, slowly releasing me from the gown. Half-way down my back, he swallowed a groan. “Goddammit, I want to rip this off you. This is taking far too long.”
I laughed into the sheets. “You rip it and I’ll make you fix it. Patience is a virtue, husband.”
His touch halted. “What did you call me?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Husband.” Loving the way his eyes hooded, I breathed, “That’s what you are now. Husband. My husband.”
His mouth parted, dangerous darkness stealing over him. “Say it again.”
I didn’t care my dress was only half undone, I rolled onto my back, slipping beneath his inert hands. “Husband.”
His gaze dropped to the front corset of my gown. “That word makes me hard.”
The spaghetti straps slid off my shoulders, tickling my skin. “How hard?”
“So fucking hard.”
“Show me.”
He gulped. “Show you?”
I nodded, reaching for his tented slacks. “I want to see.”
Darting out of my grip, he climbed off the bed, a slow burn building in his gaze. “Why do you want to see?”
Coyness slipped into my blood. He wanted to play? I could play.
Sitting up on my knees, I struggled against the imprisoning nature of the silk layers and licked my lips. “Because it’s mine and I want to see what my marriage has bought me.”
His hands fisted. “Bought you?”
“Uh huh.” The conversation turned anchor-heavy with want, sinking through the yacht to the seabed below.
I’d never been so needy, so ready for sex.
I wanted him desperately, but at the same time, I loved the anticipation, the building joy that we could touch whenever we wanted but chose a little self-denial.
Jethro’s hands flew to his belt. Never taking his eyes off me, he unbuckled the clasp, slipping the black leather from the loops. “If you get to see me, I want something in return.”