Chapter 105 Yes
Sweat slicks our skin, her nails scraping lightly down my back, urging me on even as her breaths come in short, desperate bursts.
I can feel her tightening around my cock again, that telltale flutter signaling she's close, her earlier release making her even more sensitive, more responsive to every drag and push.
I shift my weight, one hand bracing beside her head while the other slides between us, fingers finding her swollen clit slick with her arousal and my own pre-cum.
I circle it firmly, pressing just enough to make her arch off the bed, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.
"Rowan—oh god, that's... too much," she whimpers, her walls clenching hard around me, pulling me deeper as if she can't decide whether to pull away or grind closer.
"Too much? No, baby, this is perfect," I murmur against her neck, nipping the skin there before soothing it with my tongue. My thumb takes over the rubbing, fast and insistent now, matching the pace of my thrusts as I drive into her harder, feeling her body coil tighter.
"You're so close again, aren't you? Cum for me, Violet, let it rip through you. I want to feel you shatter around me."
Her eyes squeeze shut, head thrown back as her hips buck wildly against my hand, chasing the pressure. "I... I can't—it's coming, Rowan, please," she sobs, voice breaking on a moan that echoes in the room.
I pinch her clit lightly, rolling it between my fingers, and that's all it takes.
She screams my name, her entire body convulsing as her orgasm crashes over her, juices flooding around my shaft, soaking us both.
Her inner muscles spasm rhythmically, squeezing me so tight it nearly pulls me under with her.
The sensation shatters my control. With a guttural groan, I bury myself to the hilt, thrusting deep one last time as my balls tighten and release.
Hot spurts of cum fill her, pulsing inside her clenching heat, marking her from the inside out.
"Fuck, Violet," I rasp, grinding against her as waves of pleasure rip through me, my vision blurring at the edges.
It's intense, raw, her body drawing out every last bit until I'm spent, collapsing half on top of her, our hearts pounding in sync.
She goes limp beneath me, a boneless heap, her chest heaving with labored breaths, eyelids fluttering as exhaustion claims her. Barely awake, she murmurs something incoherent, her fingers twitching weakly against my arm before stilling.
I pull out slowly, watching a mix of our releases trickle from her, and it stirs a dark satisfaction in my chest.
I roll off the bed, grabbing my discarded pants from the floor, rummaging through the pocket with shaking hands. There it is, the stupid fucking box, small and velvet.
I flip it open, the ring glinting in the low light: a simple band with a deep green stone that matches her eyes.
Without thinking, I snatch it up and return to her side, lifting her lax hand gently.
Her wedding finger slides into the ring easily, the metal cool against her warm skin. She stirs at the touch, eyes cracking open blearily, focusing on the band now adorning her hand.
Sadness flickers across her face first, then anger, her brows furrowing as she tries to sit up, lips parting like she's about to unleash a torrent of protest.
But I don't give her the chance.
I cup her face, crashing my mouth down on hers in a fierce, devouring kiss, tongue sweeping in to taste her surrender all over again.
She melts into it despite herself, a soft whine escaping as I pull back just enough to speak, my forehead pressed to hers.
"Just say yes, Violet. Say yes, and everything changes. No more worrying about money, or scraping by in shitty apartments, or wondering where your next meal comes from. No bills piling up, no fear of the streets. You'll be by my side... always. I'll take care of you, protect you, fuck you senseless every night if that's what you need. Just say it."
Her gaze locks on mine, tears welling but not falling, the fight draining from her as my words sink in.
Her voice is a whisper, barely audible, laced with resignation and something softer, deeper. "Yes."
Then her eyes drift shut, body finally giving out as sleep pulls her under.
I move carefully when I finally step away from the bed.
Violet is completely asleep. The kind of sleep that only comes after someone has been pushed far past their limit and finally collapses under the weight of it all. Her hair is scattered across my pillow, her breathing slow and even now, the tension finally gone from her face.
For a moment I just stand there beside the bed.
Watching her.
The house is quiet. The chaos of the day—press, detectives, accusations, contracts, politics—all of it feels distant for a second as I study the rise and fall of her chest.
My gaze drops to her hand.
The ring glints faintly in the bedside lamp.
A strange, dark satisfaction settles in my chest.
“Hell of a way to end the day,” I mutter under my breath.
I reach down and pull the blanket higher around her shoulders, tucking it gently against her side so she doesn’t wake cold. She stirs a little, her fingers curling against the pillow, but she doesn’t wake.
Good.
She needs the sleep.
I move quickly after that, grabbing my shirt from the chair and dragging it back on.
My pants are still on the floor where I dropped them earlier; I step into them, fastening the button and belt in quick, practiced motions.
Within seconds I look like the man who walked into this room earlier.
Except for the tension still sitting deep in my chest.
I glance at her one more time before leaving.
Then I step out of the room and quietly shut the door behind me.
Devin. Theo. Camille.
They’re all gathered around the large kitchen island, laptops open, phones scattered across the counter like some kind of war room that’s been running all day. Coffee mugs. Papers. Half-empty glasses.
The second they see me, every single one of them stops talking.
Theo leans back in his chair slowly.
Camille freezes mid-sentence.
Devin just looks at me with that calm, analytical stare he’s perfected over the years.
I don’t waste time. My eyes land on Devin.
“Print the contract,” I tell him. “Immediately.”
He doesn’t ask what contract.
He already knows.
His fingers move across the keyboard instantly.
Camille, however, pushes back from the table and stands up.
“Where’s Violet?” she asks, worry flashing across her face as she glances toward the hallway like she’s about to run upstairs.
“She’s sleeping,” I say.
Camille pauses. “Sleeping?”
“Yes.” I move past them and grab a glass from the counter, filling it with water like this conversation isn’t about to spiral. “She’s exhausted,” I continue. “Everyone leaves her alone.”
Camille studies my face carefully. “Rowan…”
“She had a hard day,” I say simply.
That quiets her for a moment.
Behind her, Theo shifts in his chair, arms folding across his chest as he watches me like someone observing a particularly dangerous animal.
“Define ‘hard day,’” he mutters.
I ignore him. The printer on the counter whirs to life as Devin’s machine starts spitting out pages.
The sound fills the room.
Camille stares at me like she’s trying to decide if I’ve finally lost my mind. “You’re unbelievable.”
I don’t argue with that. Instead I pick up the contract and turn toward the hallway again.
“Everyone stays quiet,” I say. “She needs sleep.”