Chapter 30
Laiken
It feels like I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, the faint glow of the city bleeding through the edges of the curtains. Every time I close my eyes, Kia is standing in my living room, saying yes with a steadiness that surprised me.
What can’t be denied is that the penthouse feels different with her here.
It’s fuller. More alive in a way I didn’t realize I was missing, like the world around me has been splashed with vibrant color.
My daughter is also happier with her here.
And I, for reasons I don’t fully understand, breathe a little easier in her presence.
That alone should scare the hell out of me.
Oddly enough, it doesn’t.
If I’m being completely honest, I liked the feel of her in my arms and her warm weight pressed against me the other night. For the first time in I don’t know how long, my body finally let go of the tension I’ve been carrying around, and sleep came easily.
Out of everything, that should worry me the most.
I roll onto my side, then flip onto my back again as restless energy buzzes beneath my skin. My mind drifts to the way she looked at me when I stroked her cheek, and the hitch of her breath. To the kiss I never should have allowed, and the realization that stopping would be the hardest part.
Eventually, I give up and toss the covers aside before padding toward the kitchen. Moonlight filters in through the windows, and I stop short when I find her already there, as if I somehow conjured up the sight of her.
Kia stands near the island, barefoot, wearing the T-shirt I gave her the first night she stayed over.
It brushes the top of her thighs, and her blonde hair is a sleep-tousled mess.
The sight of her hits me like a truck. What can’t be denied is that beneath the desire is something far steadier.
Something that feels more like certainty.
If this were simply attraction, I could resist without a second thought.
There’s too much on the line to risk over something as fleeting as lust.
Whatever this is with Kia, it already feels like more.
She meets my gaze “Hi.”
“Hey.”
Concern mars her brow. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
This woman has no idea that thoughts of her have been filling my head all night. “No. I couldn’t sleep.”
She sighs. “Me neither.”
For a moment, we stand there, the air thick with everything neither of us is willing to say out loud. The kitchen shrinks, as if the walls are pressing in on us. Before I fully realize what I’m doing, I swallow up the distance between us until she has to tilt her chin to hold my gaze.
Dinner had come together the way it always seems to lately, with Elody and Kia side by side at the counter. They’d chopped and stirred and debated seasonings like it was the most important decision in the world.
It melts my heart every damn time I see them together. The way Kia instinctively includes my little girl in everything she does. And then there’s the way Elody lights up just being near her. It’s effortless and so much more natural than what I’m used to.
After finishing dinner, we played another game—Chutes and Ladders this time. I wasn’t even trying to lose, but I still did, much to Elody’s delight. There’s nothing quite as humbling as being trash-talked by a four-year-old.
At bedtime, Kia handled the bath while I took a call from Mark. My lawyer kept me on the phone for over an hour, details and contingencies stacking up until my head throbbed.
By the time I hung up, the penthouse was quiet. Elody was asleep and Kia’s bedroom door was closed. I decided that we could probably both use a little space.
Which means we never actually talked since this morning.
I clear my throat, the sound rough in the silence.
“I was thinking,” I say carefully, “that if you’re still on board with the plan, we could apply for our marriage license tomorrow.
” I pause, watching her closely. “Then get married at city hall on Friday morning before Elody goes to her grandparents’ house.
I know she’ll want to be at the ceremony. ”
The words hang between us. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my muscles tighten while waiting for an answer.
“I agree.” Something in her expression eases. “It’s important she be a part of the big day.”
And just like that, the decision is made, even if nothing about it feels simple.
Every instinct I have urges me to jump straight to logistics, but I force myself to take it slow. This has to be her choice.
A real one.
Not something she agrees to because she feels cornered or indebted.
I’ve lived that life once already, and I won’t do it again. Even if it means the situation with Elody’s grandparents gets worse before it gets better.
“I want you to know that if you’re doubting this at all,” I say, keeping my voice even, “you can back out at anytime.”
When she glances away for a brief second, I brace for her to tell me she’s thought it through and decided it’s too much.
Too reckless.
Her gaze snaps back to mine. “I’m not interested in backing out.”
The relief hits so hard, it’s almost disorienting.
She hesitates, and the fear she’s trying to keep contained slips through. “But… are you certain about putting your name on the baby’s birth certificate?” There’s a pause. “That’s a really big deal, Laiken.”
“You’re right, it is.” I hold her stare steadily. “And I’m sure.”
With a nod, she absorbs my response before adding, “If anything happens and we end up parting ways, I’m not going to come after you for child support.”
Something in my chest gives way at her softly spoken promise. Without thinking, I step closer, gradually swallowing the distance between us, giving her every chance to pull back if that’s what she wants.
Instead, she holds her ground.
In that moment, the space between us feels charged with something far more dangerous than paperwork or promises. It has nothing to do with contracts at all.
My hand slips beneath the hem of her shirt to rest gently against the slight curve of her stomach. When she leans into me with a shaky exhale, the last of my restraint gives way.
“I know this is happening fast,” I say, my voice rough. “But I’m sure about it. No matter what happens, I’ll take care of you and the baby. This child is mine.”
Her eyes shine in the low light, and her fingers curl against my skin as if she’s holding on to the only solid thing in the room.
I don’t move right away. I let the time between us stretch as my mouth hovers over hers, close enough to feel her breath. When she tilts her face upward, silently giving me permission, I kiss her.
It’s slow.
Achingly so.
It’s not a desperate crash of lips but something more deliberate and controlled. My mouth glides over hers with careful restraint, wanting to make it last.
She sighs into the kiss, and the sound is like a punch to the ribs.
I’m doing everything in my power to keep this caress gentle.
But it’s not easy when it feels like my insides are being scorched alive and my control is hanging by a thread.
This woman is dangerously close to becoming an obsession.
The last thing I want is to scare her away with the intensity that claws at my insides.
Even when she responds and my body urges me to take more, I keep my need tightly leashed, leaving my hand splayed against her lower abdomen. I want her to feel as if she has the power to stop this if it’s not what she wants.
Instead, she opens for me. That’s all it takes for my resolve to snap.
The restraint I’ve been clinging to shatters like glass.
My other hand slides into her hair, fingers tightening just enough to anchor her as the kiss turns hungry.
Our tongues tangle as I carefully deepen the kiss, as if I’m trying to fool myself into believing I have the power to keep this contained.
But I can’t. Not when she’s melting against me.
Not when her sweetness floods my senses.
Not when it feels like she’s always belonged to me.
The taste I had the other night was never going to be enough.
Instead of taking the edge off, it only stoked my need.
Because now I want more.
More of her.
More of this.
I want every breath, every sound, everything she’s willing to give me. I want her trust along with her surrender. I want her hands on my skin like she’s claiming me right back. And I want it so badly it borders on painful.
A groan breaks loose from me when her arms tangle around my neck and she presses close enough for me to feel the softness of her breasts against my chest. The way her nipples harden into little points drives me fucking wild.
My hands settle on her hips before I lift her onto the marble counter. The chill of the surface contrasts with the heat burning between us, and she inhales at the contact.
When her thighs part, it feels like an invitation my body recognizes before my mind can fully catch up. I step between them, fitting in the space with an ease that feels more like coming home.
For a moment, I pause. Not because I don’t want this, but because I need her to know she has a choice in the matter.
I lean in until my forehead rests against hers and our breaths tangle. My mouth brushes the corner of her lips. It’s a coaxing kiss that makes my pulse throb.
“I want you to tell me if this is too much,” I murmur. “Or if you need me to slow down.”
Her palms glide along my chest, fingertips dragging over bare flesh as her gaze locks on mine. “That’s not what I want.”
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.