48. Delilah #2
After the food, Priya dims the lights and cues up the projector I used for my last slideshow.
But this time, instead of exposing Vivian and Connor, I've selected photographs from the last two years.
Kane at the New Year's ball, smiling down at me in the coat closet.
The Makov family dinner, where they claimed me as their baker.
My birthday party, where Kane held up a lopsided cake.
The Poconos trip, where he taught me I didn't have to be useful to be wanted.
And finally, a photograph Niko took of us at Friendsgiving. Kane's arm is around my shoulders. I'm laughing at a joke he made, and we both look happy.
As the slideshow ends, Silent Night begins to play again. But this time, there are words. I recognize the singer on the spot.
It's my father. His rendition.
His voice fills the room.
My heart clenches.
Kane pulls me against his side and holds me while I cry.
"I miss him," I whisper.
"I know."
"I wish he could have been here."
"He would've been proud of you."
I tilt my head back to look at Kane. "You think so?"
"I know so."
I press my face into his shoulder and let him hold me until the song ends.
The guests begin clearing tables around nine.
I try to help, but Priya physically blocks me. "Go upstairs."
"But—"
"Nope. This is your wedding night. You are not cleaning anything."
"Priya—"
"Go."
Kane appears beside me and offers his hand. "You can either come upstairs with me or I can carry you like a caveman. Your choice, wife."
The way he says wife has my knees turning to jelly.
I roll my eyes for Priya's sake, but on the inside, I'm already melting.
On the first step, I turn back. "Thank you. All of you. For everything."
Priya blows me a kiss. "Get out of here."
I laugh and let Kane pull me upstairs.
Inside the apartment, I close the door and lean against it.
Kane stands in the center of the room, looking around like he's never seen it before.
"What?" I ask.
"I'm home."
"Yeah." My voice cracks. "You are."
I cross to him and pull a key from my bouquet.
"Here."
He takes it. "What's this?"
"Your key. To our apartment."
His fingers close around it. "Our apartment."
"Yeah. No more saying goodbye at the end of the day. You stay now."
He kisses me.
It's deeper this time. Hungrier.
When he pulls back, his voice is rough. "Show me where you want my things."
I take his hand and lead him into the bedroom.
The room is as I left it this morning. But a lot has changed since the last time he saw it. There's space in the closet for his clothes now. The second lamp on his side of the bed has made a comeback. And his drawer has been cleared again for him.
"Here," I say, gesturing vaguely. "Make yourself comfortable."
Kane sets the key on the nightstand. "I'll unpack tomorrow."
"What about tonight?"
He turns to face me. "Tonight, I'm focusing on my wife."
Heat spreads on my cheeks. "Your wife."
"That's right."
He steps closer, and I realize I've been waiting for this all day.
Hell, I've been waiting for this for months.
His hands settle on my waist, and he kisses me again.
This time, there's no audience. No one to interrupt.
Just us.
I reach for his jacket, and he shrugs it off.
Then his tie.
His shirt.
By the time I've unbuttoned it halfway, his patience runs out.
He grabs the bodice of my dress and pulls.
The lace gives way with a sharp rip.
I gasp. "Kane!"
"I'll buy you another one."
"This was expensive!"
"I don't care."
He kisses me hard, backing me toward the bed.
When my knees hit the mattress, I sit.
Kane follows me down, bracing himself on his hands.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," I tell him.
"So are you."
"Then do something about it."
He grins and reaches for the zipper at my back.
It takes him a minute to figure it out, but eventually the dress loosens.
I shimmy out of the top half, leaving the skirt pooled around my waist.
Kane's eyes travel hungrily over me. "Fuck."
"What?"
"You're perfect."
"I'm half-naked in a ruined wedding dress."
"Exactly."
He kisses me again, and I pull him down onto the bed.
We fumble with his belt, his pants, until finally we're skin to skin.
I roll on top of him, straddling his hips, and he grips my waist.
"Condom?" he asks.
I shake my head. "Want to feel you."
He groans, then positions his cock at my entrance.
I sink slowly onto him. The burn is almost unbearable, but in a good way. I've missed this. All of this—all of him.
When I take him all the way, we both gasp.
"Fuck, Lilah."
"Kane."
I start moving, rolling my hips, and he thrusts up to meet me.
The dress is still bunched around my waist, lace and silk everywhere, but neither of us cares.
Kane's hands grip my hips, guiding me, and I brace my hands on his chest.
"Faster," he says.
I obey.
He sits up, pulling me closer, and wraps one arm around my back while the other hand moves between us.
When his thumb finds my clit, I cry out.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Let me hear you."
I'm already close. Too close.
"Kane—"
"I've got you."
He rubs circles while I ride him. My breath comes faster. I arch into him, head tilted back, my body tightening around him.
The pleasure builds and builds. Until, suddenly, it crests.
I come shaking, Kane's name on my lips.
He holds me through it, then flips us over without pulling out.
I gasp as my back hits the mattress.
"My turn," he says.
He fucks me hard and fast, chasing his own release, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
Within minutes, I'm close again.
"Kane, I—I'm gonna—"
"Come for me," he growls into my neck. "Let me feel you, sladkaya."
The name pushes me over the edge.
He follows me a moment later, groaning, "Lilah."
We stay like that for a while, breathing hard, tangled together in lace and sweat.
Finally, Kane lifts his head. "Hello, wife."
I laugh. "Hello, husband."
He kisses me softly, then pulls me against his chest and wraps the blanket around us.
"I love you," he says.
"I love you too."
I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat.
For the first time in months, I don't worry about saying goodbye in the morning.
Because Kane's not going anywhere.
He's home.
And so am I.