CHAPTER FORTY

When we got married, Merrick asked Caden what he wanted as a gift, and he said the site of the hotel where he’d taken me that night, where he’d told me who his father was, where I’d revealed my father’s plan. Confused but thrilled to finally be allowed fatherly behavior, Merrick gave it to him.

It turned out, Caden had a lot of money saved up, and without telling me, he used it to build the most beautiful house I’d ever seen, overlooking the sea.

It was simple, minimal like his apartment, but beautiful like my childhood home. When he brought me there for the first time, he took my hand and led me from the car. He walked me up the driveway, through the garden planted with purple hyacinths, over the porch where a little wind chime hung, the metal butterflies clattering, past the stone pillars on the porch and into the front hallway.

Our bedroom overlooked the sea. Caden bought a boat and built a dock down below. He called it The Aphrodite and took me out on it on long weekends when he wasn’t at the training center and when I wasn’t at the office Merrick had rented for my department in Providence.

We both took breaks now. Life was slower, and we enjoyed everything so much more.

I woke one Saturday, the beginning of May, feeling good. He’d come in late the night before, and I barely remembered him getting into bed before he was already gone.

My back cracked as I sat up, resting against the pillows. I’d spent all Friday at the office, combing through the reports for the spring quarter. Everything looked better than good, and I was proud of the work we’d done. Last night on my way home, I got a text from Merrick expressing his thanks at how well we’d hit the goals he’d laid down.

I enjoyed this new job. It fed my need for challenge, but it gave me the freedom I craved.

Downstairs, the door slammed, and I stretched out, letting the sheet fall into my lap. The sun coming through the window was deliciously warm on my bare skin, my body relaxed except for between my thighs, where I felt the tension of not having the time to sleep with my husband for the last few days.

His boots rang up the steps before he appeared in the doorway, bathed in sweat from his run. He stopped short, his brows rising.

“Don’t move,” he said.

“Um…why?”

The corner of his mouth jerked up. “I just want to take good look at you. Nice tits.”

I rolled my eyes—he was so full of shit, but way too charming for me to care. Soaked with sweat, he crossed the room and knelt over me, bending and kissing my mouth.

Heat moved through my veins as desire fluttered between my legs.

He pulled back, and I followed his mouth with mine. He brushed my hair back, and the look in his eyes was so gentle.

“I’d like to have dinner with you tonight,” he said.

“Where?”

“Here.” His lips brushed my forehead as he straightened and moved to the other side of the room.

I relaxed into the pillow, enjoying the sight of him pulling the wet shirt from his lean, tattooed torso. He’d finally gotten the tire irons covered with a chest piece that blended in with the rest of his ink, a collection of Greek statues—exactly what I thought he would get. I’d gone to one of his therapy sessions with Gretchen, and she explained ADHD hyperfixations. Some of his obsession with ancient cultures was due to that, and some it was, well, just Caden. I loved him for that, for his quirks, his passions.

He was wonderfully, beautifully complex.

Our brains worked differently, but in those differences, I’d found so much happiness. We were so happy—I hadn’t realized it was possible to be this at peace before meeting him.

“Is that what you want? Dinner here?”

I pulled myself to the present as he stood in just his pants, waiting for an answer.

“I’d love to have dinner here with you,” I said. “Are we cooking or ordering in?”

“I ordered the things we need to make dinner tonight,” he said, tossing his clothes in the basket and moving into the bathroom.

It was two parts, with the toilet and sink in a separate room for privacy, but from the bed, I could see right into spacious front area where the open shower was. The wall came up to my waist, and the upper portion was glass. He stepped in and turned on the water, letting it pour over his head.

I settled in to enjoy the view. The glass came down to just above his groin, giving me a hint of the delicious trail of hair that led to his cock.

My thighs pressed together. I was horny, but why get up when he was going to come to me anyway?

Instead, I lay in a sleepy haze and watched my gorgeous, naked husband without a care in the world, my mind completely empty.

And the best part was, I wasn’t thinking about work on my day off.

He finished and left the shower, naked and cock hard, dark tattoos glistening. I slid onto my back, and he crawled into bed, hovering over me before dipping his head to lick my hard nipples as I moaned, spreading my thighs.

“Want something, butterfly?” he murmured.

“I’d like your tongue,” I sighed. “Please and thank you.”

He laughed, kissing down my stomach. Sending tingles of pleasure through my body. I ran my hand over his head, over his short, dark hair, and pushed him down. He went obediently and I let my eyes roll back as he slid his tongue over my pussy.

My entire body turned to water as he moved his palms up my upper thighs, gripping the underside of my knees and flipping me. There was a rustle, and then he slid his head between my knees. Surprised, I reeled back, but he gripped my hips and pulled me down onto his face.

“Oh God,” I gasped.

His tongue slid over my pussy, slow at first, touching everywhere but my swollen clit. My palm pressed against the wall for balance as I glanced over my shoulder, and my thighs shuddered at the sight of him, fully hard and pierced, the tip of his cock wet with desire.

Pleasure moved like lava through me.

My toes curled hard, and I came on his tongue, on his face. He lifted me down while I was still shuddering and pushed me onto his cock, forcing me to take all of his hard, hot length the way I craved.

It didn’t feel like just pleasure anymore. It felt like the part of me that had never had a chance to be whole fit into the broken bits of him. Between the two of us, we made something beautiful.

It was home.

His hands gripped my body and guided me through every movement, rising, falling, my head back. The ceiling swimming overhead. Finally, he couldn’t take being beneath me anymore and flipped me to my knees, pulling my head back so I had to look at him fucking me in the mirror across the room.

He finished inside me, and I fell onto my back, warm and satisfied.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

I smiled at him, closing my eyes as he kissed my forehead. “You’re so handsome.”

We spent the whole day together, the way we did every Saturday. I went outside and lay in the flower garden. Caden had a koi pond put in, and my fish swam lazily under the lily pads as the soft, spring air teased my hair and made me sleepy.

So I slept, because I had nowhere to be and nothing to do.

When I woke a while later, I wandered inside and found him in the library on the first floor. Despite having little to no formal education, Caden read more than anyone I’d ever met. Now, I found him stretched out on the couch, flipping through a textbook.

I leaned over, squinting. Was he reading about the history of…building materials in ancient civilizations? That checked out.

I sank down, and he glanced over.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked.

Nodding, I slipped down to lay on his chest. He set the book aside and stroked my hair back, his heart slow and steady in his chest.

My throat felt lumpy. How had I wasted so much time being so busy doing nothing at all when I could have been doing this?

“What time is it?” I murmured.

“About five.”

I yawned. “Sex or dinner?”

“Hmm,” he said. “Let’s make dinner, sleep it off, and have sex.”

“Sounds perfect.”

We lay together for another half an hour before we made our way to the kitchen. It was one of the most beautiful spaces in the house: white stone, a fireplace shaped like a thin rectangle, and a window that looked up at the backyard where the orchard grew.

He’d ordered ingredients for fresh spaghetti. I put on quiet music, and we worked our way through making the sauce, buttering the bread, spreading it with fresh garlic. It turned out, cooking together when there was nothing else to do wasn’t the same as trying to cook after a long day of work.

I dipped the spoon into the sauce and put it to his lips as his brows lifted.

“Very good,” he said.

I licked the spoon. “Caden.”

“Yes?”

“How happy are you?”

He sobered, his dark eyes glittering in the dim firelight. “I don’t think there’s a scale I can judge happiness like this on.”

I slid my hand up his chest. “All I want is to make you happy.”

“All I want is to make you happy, butterfly. It sounds like we both got what we want.”

The sauce bubbled over at that moment, and I was glad for it. Dipping my head to hide my tears, I pulled the lid free to let it breathe. His hand lingered on my spine, his mouth on the back of my neck.

We ate on the back porch. Then, he took my hand, and we walked, both buzzed on wine, up the hill to the orchard. I’d planted every kind of fruit tree that could grow in Rhode Island, and they were sprouting quickly. By the end of next summer, we would have early fruit.

Hand in hand, we walked through the new growth to the other side, where he’d built a stone gazebo, supported by smooth, white pillars.

In the center sat a white marble statue, its beautiful face grave. Incense rose from the bowl at her feet—Caden must have been here earlier. As I gazed up at it, the memory of him telling me I was what he’d prayed for resurfaced. I knew now that wasn’t all he wanted.

“Caden,” I whispered.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“I think I’m ready to start trying,” I whispered.

His body stiffened before his strong arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his side as his lips brushed my head.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I love you,” I whispered, biting back happy tears.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice rough. “Now and always.”

A deep sense of calm settled over me as I gazed at the spiral of smoke drifting into the dark sky. I think I understood what this meant to him. He’d dared to hope, to ask for something better, and some benevolent force had granted his prayer.

He took me by the waist, pulling me against his body, reminding me that we’d both gotten everything we wanted. Happiness was no longer a dream, but a real place we existed in together.

“You were here earlier,” I said. “What did you ask for?”

He ran his hand from my throat, down between my breasts, to my stomach. “I asked that when you were ready, we would have a family.”

I closed my eyes and wound my fingers through his. He’d come to the temple in the early morning to light incense, and knelt on the cool stone.

And this time, he had found peace.