Chapter 56
fifty-six
Zach
The night air hits different once we step outside.
Cooler. Quieter. Cleaner than the weight of the room we just left behind. And for the first time since we arrived, I feel it.
Relief.
Not the kind that empties you. The kind that settles. The kind that tells you something shifted.
We did it. It’s out. No more hiding. No more careful lines or half-truths or watching what we say, how we touch her, where we stand in relation to her.
She’s ours.
And now everyone knows it.
My hand tightens slightly around hers as we move further into the garden, the gravel path crunching softly under our feet, the sound grounding, steady.
I glance at her.
She’s quiet.
Not withdrawn. Not overwhelmed. Just… processing.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
Her fingers curl slightly in mine.
“I’m okay,” she says, her voice gentle. “I just needed some air.”
I nod, studying her for a second longer. She looks good. Better than she has in weeks. There’s color in her cheeks. Life in her eyes. Still fragile in places, yes, but not breakable.
Not the way we’ve been treating her.
“Do you want to walk a bit?” I ask, tilting my head toward the deeper stretch of garden where the lights thin out and the space opens up.
She looks where I’m looking, then back at me.
“I’d love that.”
So we go. Slow. Unrushed.
The kind of walk that doesn’t need conversation to fill it, just presence, just closeness. Her hand stays in mine, her thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles every now and then like she needs the contact as much as I do.
The estate gardens stretch further than they looked from the outside, low hedges, tall trees, soft lighting scattered just enough to guide the path without breaking the darkness entirely.
It feels… removed.
Like we’ve stepped out of everything else for a moment. She exhales softly beside me. And then, she shifts.
Subtle. But I feel it.
Her fingers tighten slightly in mine. Her step falters just enough to catch my attention. I glance down at her.
“You okay?”
She lets out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, but softer.
“Yeah,” she says. “I just…”
She hesitates. I slow slightly, turning toward her.
“What is it?”
Her eyes flick down over her own body. The dress. The way the silk moves when she shifts.
“It’s the dress,” she admits quietly.
I raise a brow slightly.
“The dress?”
She nods, her lips pressing together briefly before they curve just a little.
“Every time it moves… I keep thinking about when I bought it.”
Something in my chest shifts.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice lower now.
She glances up at me.
“There was a change room,” she says, almost under her breath. “And Jackson decided that waiting wasn’t really his thing.”
I huff a quiet breath, something amused and something darker threading through it as I look her over again. Really look this time. The way the dress fits her. The way it clings. The way it moves with her body.
“I see,” I murmur.
My gaze lingers. Slower now. More deliberate.
“I suppose that means Elijah and I have something to make up for,” I add, my voice softer, edged with something more intentional.
Her lips part slightly.
“Maybe,” she says.
I step closer.
My free hand lifts, cupping her cheek gently, my thumb brushing along her skin in a slow, grounding stroke before I lean in and kiss her.
Soft at first.
Measured. Just enough to feel her. But she doesn’t stay soft.
She leans into me immediately, her fingers tightening in my shirt, pulling me closer, her mouth opening under mine in a way that shifts the entire moment.
Heat.
Immediate.
Her breath catches against my lips.
“You look…” she whispers, her voice low, threaded with something that makes my body react instantly. “You look really good in this suit.”
I huff a quiet breath against her mouth.
“Do I?”
Her eyes drag over me.
Slow.
Intent.
“It’s hard not to want to ravish you,” she admits.
“You want to ravish me?” I ask, my voice dropping.
Her expression softens slightly, like she’s almost surprised by herself.
“I don’t know what it is,” she says. “It’s like… one minute I feel fine, the next I feel nauseous, and then—”
She exhales.
“I just… want you.”
My hand tightens slightly at her jaw, my thumb brushing her lower lip.
“Pregnancy hormones,” I murmur.
She lets out a small, breathless laugh.
“I think so.”
I study her for a second longer. The way she’s looking at me. The way her body is already leaning into mine. The way she’s asking, without fully saying it.
“Do you need some relief, baby?” I ask quietly.
Her breath stutters.
“Maybe.”
That’s all it takes. My gaze flicks briefly behind us. The path. The distance. The shadows. No one close enough. No one paying attention.
I guide her gently off the path, my hand sliding from hers to her waist, pressing her back lightly against the trunk of a tree, the rough bark contrasting sharply with the smooth silk of her dress.
She inhales sharply.
I step in close.
Close enough that there’s no space left between us.
My hand comes up again, this time settling at the side of her throat, not tight, just there, grounding, holding her attention as I tilt her head back slightly.
“You want me to take care of you out here?” I murmur, my voice low, steady, controlled.
Her answer isn’t words.
It’s the way her body arches into mine. The way her fingers curl into my jacket. The way her lips part.
“Yes.”
My control slips just a fraction.
I kiss her again. Deeper this time. Slower.
Letting the heat build instead of taking it all at once, letting her feel it, letting her lean into it, letting her need it.
And when she makes that soft, broken sound against my mouth, that’s it.
That’s the moment it tips. Everything else fades. The gala. The people. The noise. All of it. Gone.
There’s just her. And the way she feels under my hands. And the way she’s asking for more.
The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, my tongue sliding against hers in unhurried strokes that pull soft, needy sounds from her throat.
I keep one hand at the side of her neck, thumb stroking along her jaw, while the other trails down her side, over the smooth silk of her dress, until my fingers reach the hem.
I bunch the fabric slowly, inch by inch, until my palm finds bare thigh.
She shivers against me.
I break the kiss just enough to look at her, eyes dark in the low garden light. “You’re already trembling, baby,” I murmur against her lips. “And I’ve barely touched you.”
My hand slides higher, fingertips brushing the edge of her lace panties.
She’s warm. So fucking warm. I hook a finger under the fabric and drag it slowly to the side, exposing her completely to the cool night air.
The first slow glide of my fingers through her folds pulls a broken little gasp from her.
“Fuck,” I breathe, voice rough. “You’re soaked already.”
I circle her clit with two fingers, light pressure at first, teasing, feeling how slick she is, how easily my fingers glide over her swollen flesh.
She rocks her hips forward, chasing the touch, and I give her more, pressing firmer, rubbing slow, steady circles while my mouth finds her neck, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below her ear.
“Listen to how wet you sound,” I whisper against her skin, letting my fingers dip lower to tease her entrance before sliding back up to her clit. “Every time I move, I can hear it. You’re dripping for me, baby. So ready.”
She whimpers, head falling back against the tree trunk, and I take the opportunity to kiss her again, deeper, hungrier, while my fingers keep working her in those slow, relentless circles.
I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them just right as my thumb takes over on her clit, rubbing firm and steady.
“That’s it,” I murmur into her mouth between kisses. “Feel how easily I slide in? You’re so fucking wet, baby. Your pussy is greedy tonight.”
I pump my fingers slowly at first, then faster, curling them with every thrust so they drag against that sensitive spot inside her. My mouth stays on hers, swallowing every moan and gasp, while my free hand slides up to cup her breast through the silk, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple.
Her breathing turns ragged, hips rocking desperately against my hand. I can feel her walls starting to flutter around my fingers, tightening, pulling me deeper.
“Come for me,” I say against her lips, voice low and commanding. “Let me feel you soak my fingers, baby. Right here. Right now.”
The orgasm hits her hard. Her whole body goes tight, a sharp cry muffled against my mouth as her pussy clenches rhythmically around my fingers, pulsing again and again.
Hot, slick wetness floods my hand, coating my palm as she trembles through every wave.
I keep moving slowly, drawing it out until the last shudder fades and she sags against me, breathing hard.
I’m just pressing a soft kiss to her temple, fingers still buried deep inside her, when Jackson’s low, amused voice cuts through the darkness behind us.
“As much as I love watching you lost to pleasure, sweetheart, they are looking for Zach for speeches.”
I groan low and frustrated as I slowly pull my fingers from her slick heat, the wet sound impossibly loud in the quiet garden.
Before I can even process it, Jackson steps closer, his eyes locked on Lia. He catches my wrist, brings my glistening fingers to his mouth, and wraps his lips around them.
He sucks slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving hers as a deep moan vibrates around my fingers.
“Mmm… that’s my favourite taste in the whole world,” he murmurs, voice rough with heat, tongue swirling to clean every drop.
Lia whimpers softly, thighs pressing together at the sight.
I exhale a shaky laugh, adjusting myself in my pants where my cock is now painfully hard. “Fuck… I’m trying not to be hard right now.”
Jackson releases my fingers with a wet pop and winks at her, that easy, wicked smile curving his lips.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and promising. “We’ll give you as many orgasms as you need tonight.”
He turns and starts walking back toward the lights of the building, but not before throwing one last heated look over his shoulder.
I glance at Lia, still flushed and breathing hard against the tree, then down at myself. I adjust my suit jacket to hide the obvious bulge, running a hand through my hair as I try to pull myself together for the speeches waiting inside.
“Ready?” I ask her softly, offering my arm.
She takes it, a small, dazed smile on her lips as we start walking back.
The night is far from over.