Chapter 36
Laiken
We drop Elody off at her grandparents’ place before heading back to the penthouse.
Right before we left, she jumped into Kia’s arms and gave her a giant hug.
Elody has always been a friendly child by nature, but seeing her take to Kia so quickly and watching the relationship they’re building day by day makes a lump form in the middle of my throat.
Kia is so patient with my little girl. And that means everything.
The drive home passes by in silence. It’s not awkward but more thoughtful in nature. It’s the kind of quiet that happens when two people understand the magnitude of what they’ve just promised.
Was getting married so suddenly spontaneous?
Probably.
Do I regret it?
Not even for a second.
Some things don’t need to be dissected or justified.
Sometimes, you just know it’s the right course of action.
And with Kia, that certainty has been there from the very beginning.
It’s not loud or demanding of attention, it simply exists, a steady and unshakable truth.
I can’t explain it in rational terms or map it out in a way that would satisfy anyone looking in from the outside.
But that doesn’t make it any less real.
We ride the elevator up with our hands clasped as the car hums around us.
The city drops away floor by floor, the quiet stretching, charged with expectation.
When the doors slide open on the penthouse level, I allow her to step out first, the way I always do.
But tonight, the simple motion feels weighted with meaning.
She walks into the entryway, pale-pink dress swishing around her knees, wedding ring catching the light as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear.
This woman is now my wife.
My wife.
The words settle deep, burrowing themselves inside me. They don’t feel fragile or surreal the way I expected them to.
I help Kia out of her coat, taking my time as I hang it up, then do the same with mine. My gaze keeps drifting to her left hand and the band around her finger that wasn’t there this morning. It’s proof today actually happened.
We’re married.
And this is our wedding night.
It isn’t the version they sell in movies. There aren’t flower petals scattered across a hotel bed or champagne chilling on ice. Grand gestures weren’t designed for an audience.
Instead, there’s the comfort of coming home together and the understanding that this space means something different now.
That we mean something different.
As I watch her move throughout the penthouse like she already belongs in it, I know with absolute clarity that this is exactly where I want to be.
I’ve spent my life building systems that have to do with rules and discipline. It’s how I keep things from spinning out of control and protect what matters most.
Then Kia walked into my life and rewrote everything I thought I knew.
Somehow, instead of disorder, everything feels strangely settled. Like puzzle pieces that have finally slid into place after years of frustration.
With a sigh, she kicks off her shoes. The sound is easy and familiar as she reaches up and loosens her hair. The simple gesture is like a punch to the gut.
“You have no idea,” I say, my voice rough with emotion, “what you do to me.”
Her gaze meets mine, and something soft flickers there. “Oh, I think I might. Because you do the same to me.”
Her quiet certainty hits me harder than anything else she could have said.
“Yeah?” I murmur, searching her face.
She nods once.
“Come here, wife.”
She closes the distance between us until she’s standing in front of me.
My hands settle at her waist, the contact grounding me in a way that can’t be fully explained.
My thumbs brush over the fabric of her dress, memorizing the feel of it.
I want to remember everything about this moment exactly as it is.
A fierce protectiveness surges through me that takes me by surprise. Not because it’s unfamiliar, but because it’s been dormant for so long. There were times I wondered if I’d ever feel it again.
This woman belongs to me.
And I belong to her.
I tip my forehead to hers, letting the moment stretch. “Breathe, Kitten,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”
Her shoulders relax, tension draining from her muscles, as if she’s been holding it there for far too long.
The quiet trust in that simple response strips me bare.
In the past, these were the kinds of moments where everything unraveled. When intensity became something to apologize for. When caring too deeply pushed people away instead of drawing them closer.
This doesn’t feel anything like that.
There’s no need to rein myself in or hide parts of myself. I don’t have to fear being too much. With her, it doesn’t feel like a risk. It feels right in a way nothing else ever has.
“I want to make you mine. But only if you’re ready. You’re the one who sets the pace.”
When she reaches up, her palm sliding gently over my cheek, I can’t help but lean into her touch.
“I want that too.”
As soon as I sweep her up against my chest, her arms loop around my neck and I carry her toward our room, slowing only when we reach the bed.
Her breathing stutters as she looks up at me, lashes lowering, then lifting again.
I never want her to feel swept along by momentum instead of intention.
What we’re doing isn’t something to be endured or survived. It’s something to be celebrated.
“Are you absolutely sure?” I ask, setting her on her feet. What we’re building matters, and I want every step forward to be one she takes with me, not for me. “We can go as slow as you need.”
I use two fingers to lift her chin when she doesn’t respond. It’s just enough pressure to guide her gaze to mine. “Look at me.”
When she finally does, I find trust, not hesitation, in her eyes.
This, right here, is what matters.
Not control or urgency.
Just the choice she’s making to meet me with her eyes wide open.
Whatever fears I’ve carried about repeating the past, about being too much and losing her the way I lost another woman, relinquish their grip, one careful inch at a time.
I don’t feel like I’m standing on the edge of a familiar mistake or that this is history circling back around.
Instead, it feels like being given an unexpected chance to rewrite it.
It’s a surprise when she rises onto her tiptoes to brush her mouth across mine. The touch is light, but it still manages to pull a low groan from my chest.
When she returns for a second pass, lingering longer this time, I open to her tentative exploration. The moment she deepens the kiss, my arms slide around her, pulling her close until her softness fits against all my hard edges. My cock stiffens, pressing insistently against her lower abdomen.
She pulls back just enough to say, “I want you to make love to me, Laiken.”
I kiss her forehead, reveling in the sweet scent of her skin. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” I reply. “I’m going to give you so much pleasure. The kind that leaves no room for doubt. The kind you’ll never have to look elsewhere for.”
“Then I think you should start with taking off this dress,” she murmurs.
Before I can respond, she turns, presenting me with the long line of her spine.
She gathers her hair up and holds it there.
My hands shake as I reach for her, taking my time to carefully draw the zipper down until it reaches her waist. When she lowers her arms, I slide the fabric from one shoulder, then the other, watching as the pale-pink gown slips down her body before pooling at her feet.
She stands in front of me in nothing but delicate white lace.
My mouth goes dry.
This woman is so damn beautiful.
And she’s mine.
I remain still, content to watch the way her golden hair spills down her back as the lacy fabric hugs the curve of her ass. When I don’t immediately reach out and touch her, she glances over her shoulder, concern flickering across her features.
“Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “No, everything is exactly right. Maybe for the first time in my life… everything feels right.”
Her lips curve upward in satisfaction as my hands rise, finding the clasp at her back. I take my time with it, stroking her skin, allowing the anticipation to build.
There’s a soft snap as the hooks release. The straps slide from her shoulders, gliding down her arms before the lace falls away and drifts to the floor. I lean in and press my lips to her skin.
When she turns her head, my mouth finds hers, and I kiss her. My hands slide around her rib cage until I’m able to cup her breasts. They’re the perfect handful.
I continue playing with her body until her breathing turns uneven and she’s shifting against me.
One hand glides down her torso to her lacy panties.
My finger strokes along the waistband before slipping beneath it to the top of her slit.
She’s so damn silky soft. Just remembering how delicious she tastes is enough to make me rock hard.
Especially when she’s coming against my tongue.
It’s doubtful I’ll ever get enough of it.
Of her. She whimpers when I find her clit, circling it with lazy movements, wanting to give her as much pleasure as possible.
I press another kiss to the column of her neck. “Do you like that?”
Her hips rock against my hand. “I do.”
“Good, because I love touching you and making you come. Even more than that, I love the sounds you make when you’re flooding my mouth with cream. I love knowing that I give you so much pleasure.”
I shift, wanting her to feel exactly what she does to me. “Are you ready to be mine?”
“Please, Laiken.”
“You never have to ask twice. I’ll always give you everything you want.”