Chapter 19
Isabel
The mass is emotional—far more than I ever anticipated.
The weight of the moment, the hushed reverence in the room, the echo of the priest’s words…
it all crashes into me like a wave. I blink up at the ceiling, willing the tears to stay where they are, teetering on the edge.
Somehow, I manage to keep them in, but my hands betray me—they’re trembling, unsteady with emotion.
Then I feel him.
Nathan’s thumbs sweep gently over my knuckles. Then, slowly, reverently, he brings my hands to his lips. The tender press of his mouth against my skin sparks a thousand jolts through my veins, lighting me up from the inside out.
Our eyes lock—and everything else dissolves. The church, the guests, the priest’s voice… all of it fades into a gentle blur.
All I see is him.
All I feel is the thundering in my chest and the way his gaze settles on me like I’m his entire world.
“I love you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear.
I shut my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay, but the moment is too much. When I feel him lean in, his forehead resting against mine, I open them again—because I have to see him. I need to.
And there he is. Eyes full of devotion. Soul wide open. My anchor. My home.
We breathe together—one heartbeat, one rhythm—and as the priest announces us husband and wife, I don’t wait. I rise on my toes and kiss him, sealing this moment in the only way that feels right.
The church doors swing open to the sound of bells ringing and cheers rising from the crowd waiting outside. As Nathan and I step out hand in hand, I’m momentarily blinded by a sea of flashing lights—paparazzi, family, guests, everyone trying to capture this moment frozen in time.
But all I see is him.
Nathan's grip tightens around mine as he looks down at me with that grin I’ve fallen for a thousand times over. He nods toward the line of uniformed men awaiting us outside, swords raised in perfect unison.
“The sword ceremony,” he whispers near my ear, his voice reverent and proud.
We take our first steps through the arch of steel, and I can feel every heartbeat in my chest echo louder with each step we take. It’s both magical and intense—this blend of tradition and honor, of a life we’re stepping into together, no matter how uncertain the future may be.
Each pair of soldiers brings their swords down as we pass, making us stop, pause, and kiss.
The crowd cheers louder each time, and Nathan winks at me like he’s savoring every second.
I’m trying to memorize this—all of this.
The way his hand feels in mine. The warmth of his touch. The way my name sounds in the chants.
When we reach the end, the last two swords drop, and one of his friends bellows, “Welcome to married life!”
The laughter, the claps—it all buzzes in the air as we duck into the limo waiting at the curb. The door closes behind us, muffling the chaos outside, and for a moment, it’s just us again.
Nathan immediately pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me like he’s afraid to let go.
“You’re stunning, babe,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the curve of my neck. His voice is husky, thick with emotion.
“So are you.” I whisper back, leaning my forehead against his. His scent, his warmth—it’s everything I need to hold it together right now.
“You’re mine.” His voice deepens into a growl, low and possessive, sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.
“Only yours,” I breathe, barely managing the words before he captures my lips in a kiss that steals the air from my lungs. It’s intense, urgent, like we’re trying to say everything we can’t out loud.
Then he lets his head drop back against the seat with a heavy sigh, his eyes clouded. Something shifts in the air.
“I have to tell you something,” he says, voice quieter now, weighed down.
I rest my hand on his chest, trying to soothe the tension building between us. “Me too.”
He meets my gaze, his expression unreadable. “Then you start. Tell me.”
I try to lighten the mood with a teasing smile. “Come on, smartass. Spill it out.”
He chuckles, but it’s strained. “This morning… I got the call.”
My breath hitches. “Nate…” I whisper, and just like that, the tears threaten to spill again. I knew this day would come—I knew—but I had hoped for more time. Just a little more. The cruel irony of fate on our wedding day stings sharper than I imagined.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that makes it harder to breathe.
I nod, barely able to speak. “Please be careful.” My voice is thin, cracking. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.” I fall into his arms, holding him like I can imprint this moment into my skin—like if I hold on tight enough, maybe he won’t have to go.
But the clock is ticking.
He gently fumbles with my veil, taking it off like it’s something sacred. His fingers brush through my hair. “What did you want to tell me?”
The words I rehearsed suddenly feel too heavy. I can’t burden him—not today. Not when he already has to walk away. So instead, I put on the only armor I have left—a smile.
“I can’t wait to get back home,” I say softly. “How about we ditch the party early? The guests will understand.”
He smiles like I’ve just given him oxygen. “And if they don’t, I don’t care.” His lips brush over mine with infinite sweetness, and I melt right there. “I want to spend my last hours with my wife.”
Tears well in my eyes again—but this time, they’re a mix of everything. Joy. Sorrow. Love. And the kind of pain that only comes from having something so beautiful it scares you to lose it.
* * *
I have to admit it—Grace did a spectacular job organizing our wedding.
Every detail was flawless. The banquet was rich and warm, the laughter around the tables endless, and the party that followed?
Unforgettable. People danced, drank, cried—we cried.
Derek and Sebastian found a way to tease Nate by pulling me out of his reach each time he tried to dance with me.
For a while, I was able to forget what tomorrow meant.
But now, in the quiet that follows the celebration, the weight of it returns.
I can see it in Nate’s eyes. The way his smile doesn’t quite reach them.
The guilt, the ache, the apology he doesn't know how to voice. It kills me. Because I know it’s not his fault, and yet…
I still wish we had more time. Just a little more time.
I never imagined getting married would be so exhausting—physically and emotionally. So when Nate scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing, bridal-style, and carries me over the threshold of our home, I exhale a shaky breath of relief.
He places me gently down inside, then turns and locks the door with a soft click, sealing us away from the world. I let out a breathy laugh as I take off my heels, the ache in my feet is nothing compared to the tight ache in my chest.
When our eyes meet again, something shifts in the air—warmth, tension, longing.
His gaze darkens with intent, and he starts walking toward me with slow, measured steps. I let my shoes fall beside me, my fingers nervously tugging at the hem of my dress. My teeth find my bottom lip, but it’s no use—I’m already trembling.
He stops right in front of me and gently lifts my chin with a single finger. “You’re a blissful vision, Isabel,” he whispers, his voice thick, eyes stormy with love and want.
I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, slow and deep. “Would you help me take off the dress?” I murmur against his lips.
A low growl rumbles in his throat before—without warning—he hoists me over his shoulder like a prize he’s finally claimed. “I’ve been waiting for nothing else since this morning,” he chuckles.
“Nate! Put me down,” I squeal between laughs, thudding my fists playfully against his back. I silently pray he doesn’t drop me, but also never want him to let go.
When we reach the bedroom, the door creaks open and I freeze in his arms. The entire space glows in soft golden light—candles flicker on every surface, and red rose petals blanket the floor and bed in scattered perfection. It’s warm, intimate, safe.
He sets me down gently, his hands never leaving my waist. Then, slowly, reverently, he reaches for the zipper of my dress, his knuckles brushing along my spine. As the fabric loosens, he dips down, his lips following the trail down my back, kiss after kiss after kiss.
Each soft press of his mouth is a spark against my skin, sending delicious shivers rushing through my body. My breath catches, and I find myself leaning back into him.
When the dress pools at my feet, Nate gets up and spins me around. His eyes roam over me, dark and hungry, pausing on the lace I changed into after the ceremony. The corset may have been stunning, but I couldn’t breathe in it. I wanted this. To feel him. All of him. To not be bound or laced in.
I’m in a delicate white lace bra and matching thong now. His fingers lightly skim my hips as he drinks in the sight of me, his mouth twitching into a crooked, reverent smile.
My hands find the buttons of his uniform jacket undoing them one by one, wanting nothing between us. Not clothes. Not time. Not duty.
“You look so delicious,” Nate whispers, his voice husky with desire as he kisses the sensitive curve of my neck, his fingers working the clasp of my bra with practiced ease.
I try to unbutton his shirt, but my hands fumble, trembling under the heat of his mouth on my skin. Each kiss leaves behind a mark of longing, a promise. When he finally steps back to shrug it off, his gaze travels over my nearly bare body, igniting every nerve ending.
I sit on the bed, waiting—no, burning—for him to undress, watching each slow motion as he removes the layers of that crisp, powerful uniform.
There’s something so devastatingly sexy about the way it falls to the floor, piece by piece.
I kneel on the mattress, aching, as he takes a final step forward.
He approaches me like a predator—steady, sure, hungry. And God help me, I want to be devoured.
I press my lips to his chest, kissing his warm skin, then trailing my tongue along the hard ridges of his abs.
He breathes deeper, his muscles twitching under my touch, and I feel the tension coiling tighter inside him.
I make my way down his torso, dipping my tongue into the crease of his V-line, tasting him, worshiping him.
Nate inhales sharply through his teeth, threading his fingers through my hair as I look up at him, desire blazing in my eyes. Slowly, I lower his boxers and free him, licking my lips as his cock stands hard and ready for me.
“So fucking sexy,” he growls, bending to crash his lips onto mine with a hunger that steals my breath. The kiss is molten, urgent, deep—his tongue claiming mine as if he never wants to let go.
As we break apart, I stroke him gently, watching his eyes flutter closed in pleasure.
I kiss his tip, then trail down to his balls, taking them into my mouth and teasing them with my tongue while my hand works his length in long, slow strokes.
He groans, low and guttural, a sound that makes my whole body ache for more.
I take him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head before letting him slide deeper, down my throat.
Nate gasps, his hips beginning to thrust, slow at first, then faster—fucking my mouth with deep, possessive strokes.
I lose myself in it, in him, letting him take what he needs, gripping his thighs as he lets go with a growl so raw it echoes through the room.
I swallow every drop, licking him clean as I stare up at him, dazed and flushed. He’s panting, his body trembling as he reaches down to cup my cheek.
“I want you... now,” he rasps, voice shredded by desire.
He makes me lean forward onto the mattress, crawling over me like a storm. “I won’t have mercy,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands trailing over my thighs, possessive and reverent. “I want you to remember where I’ve been.”
“Please, Nate,” I purr, my back arching as his mouth finds my nipple, sucking with a greedy intensity that sends jolts of pleasure tearing through me. “Make me,” I beg, and he growls, biting down just enough to make me squirm, then soothing the sting with his tongue.
His kisses trail lower, slower, torturously slow. When his lips reach my centre, I nearly cry out.
“Oh God,” I gasp, fingers curling into the sheets as he licks me, sucks my clit with just enough pressure to drive me wild.
His tongue thrusts inside me and I tremble, hips bucking uncontrollably.
I ride his mouth, moaning his name, then—oh, God—the orgasm tears through me like wildfire, ripping a scream from my throat as I shake beneath him.
But Nate isn’t done.
He strokes his cock along my folds, teasing me again, rubbing against my swollen clit until I’m begging, trembling with anticipation.
“Nate…” I gasp.
With one slow, powerful thrust, he fills me. The stretch, the heat—it’s everything. He moves slowly at first, then faster, deeper, as if he’s trying to etch himself into my very soul. He pulls me up into his lap, his hands gripping my hips, guiding every thrust as I ride him.
Our bodies move in sync, skin against skin, pleasure building until I feel myself spiraling out of control. I explode around him with a cry, my whole body splintering into stars.
It doesn’t take long before he follows, slamming into me with one final thrust, spilling deep inside with a guttural growl.
Our bodies collapse into each other, trembling, spent, skin slick with sweat and kisses.
“I love you, Izzy,” Nate breathes, his forehead pressed to mine, his voice ragged. “Always have, baby.”
I cup his cheek, brushing my thumb over his lips. “I love you, too,” I finally whisper, the words full of truth, raw and terrifying and beautiful.
And in that moment, despite the ticking clock and the looming goodbye—we are infinite.