Chapter 71

Chapter 71
Lila

The three of us stood wrapped together in the living room, Sofia sandwiched between Elias and me. Her arms squeezed tight around my waist while Elias's hand cradled the back of my head.

"This is perfect," Sofia declared, her voice muffled against my sweater. "This is exactly what I wanted when I set you two up."

I felt Elias's chest rumble with quiet laughter. "You take credit for setting us up now?"

"Obviously. Who else convinced Lila to marry you?" Sofia pulled back to look up at him. "I deserve full credit for this relationship. You'd still be a lonely workaholic if it weren't for me."

"I wasn't lonely," Elias protested mildly.

"You were extremely lonely. You just didn't know it." Sofia turned to me. "Back me up here. Tell him he was pathetic before you came along."

I smiled despite my damp eyes. "I don't think your father was pathetic."

"See? Even Lila agrees you were—wait, what?" Sofia's eyes narrowed. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm on the side of accuracy." I brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Your father was managing just fine before I showed up."

"He had no one to make him smile like you do," Sofia interrupted, her tone shifting to sincere. "He was fine, yeah, but he wasn't happy. Not really. Not until you."

I looked up at Elias, finding his dark eyes fixed on me.

"Okay," Sofia announced suddenly. "As much as I love this family bonding time, I need you both to let me go because my arms are falling asleep and I still have tacos to finish."

Elias released his hold first. Sofia immediately stretched with exaggerated groans, then fixed us both with a pointed look.

"Also, Dad, you have that look."

"What look?" Elias asked, his expression carefully neutral.

"That 'I need to talk to my wife in private' look." Sofia grabbed her taco bag, backing toward the hallway with a knowing grin. "Which is my cue to disappear into my room and pretend I can't hear anything through these definitely-not-soundproof walls."

Heat rushed to my face. "Sofia—"

"It's fine! You're married! This is very normal and healthy!" She fumbled with her door handle. "Just maybe keep it down? I have that calc test tomorrow."

"Sofia," Elias said, his tone carrying just enough warning to make her pause.

She grinned. "What? I'm just saying, these walls are thin and I'm a delicate flower who shouldn't be exposed to—"

"Go," Elias interrupted, warmth beneath the command.

"Fine, fine." Sofia opened her door, then paused. "Hey, Lila?" She waited until I met her eyes. "I really am glad you're here. You're the best thing that's happened to this family in forever."

Before I could respond, she slipped into her room and closed the door with a decisive click. The silence that followed felt charged, and I found myself acutely conscious of how close Elias was standing, of the way his eyes had darkened.

"She's not subtle," I managed.

"No," Elias agreed, his voice dropping low. "But she's perceptive." He stepped closer. "I do need to talk to you. But first—"

He swept me up into his arms with practiced ease, careful of my injured ankle. The sudden shift made me gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you somewhere more comfortable." He was already moving toward the bedroom. "You've been on that ankle too long today."

"I'm fine," I protested weakly.

His arms tightened. "Humor me."

The bedroom was dim in the evening light. He set me down on the edge of the mattress with exquisite gentleness, kneeling to examine my wrapped ankle.

"How bad is it?" His fingers carefully probed the wrap.

"Manageable. The pain medication is still working." I watched him check it. "You don't have to worry so much."

"I'll worry as much as I want. That's my right as your husband."

The casual way he claimed that right made my breath catch. He rose in one fluid motion, his hands sliding up my calves, over my knees, coming to rest on my thighs as he stepped between my legs. The position put us at eye level.

"Better?" he asked, though his attention had clearly shifted from my injury.

"Better," I confirmed, my voice breathier than intended.

His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer. "I meant what I said earlier, about always protecting you. You've spent so long fighting alone. I want to be the one who gives you the choice to not always have to fight."

Tears pricked at my eyes again. "I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to let someone else carry part of the weight without feeling like I'm losing myself."

"Then we'll figure it out together." He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. "We'll mess up. We'll argue. But we'll do it together, Lila. You're not alone anymore."

I cupped his face between my palms. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple. Not easy, but simple." He turned his head to press a kiss to my palm. "You let me love you, and I'll do my best to love you in ways that honor who you are."

Before I could respond, he was kissing me, his mouth claiming mine with hunger. I kissed him back with equal fervor, my fingers sliding into his hair as his hands tightened on my waist. The kiss deepened, grew urgent, his tongue sliding against mine.

When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. "I've wanted to do that since I walked in the door," he admitted. "Seeing you cry, knowing what you'd been through—I wanted to make it better."

"By kissing me?"

"By reminding you that you're mine." His hands slid under my sweater, palms warm against my skin. "By showing you that you're safe here, with me, always."

I pulled him into another kiss, deeper this time. My hands worked at his shirt buttons while his found the clasp of my bra beneath my sweater. Within moments we were shedding layers, and then his hands were on my bare breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples in a way that made me gasp.

"Elias," I breathed.

"I love the way you say my name," he murmured, his mouth moving to my neck. "Especially like this, when you're desperate for me."

"I'm not desperate," I protested weakly.

"Liar." He pulled my sweater over my head, taking my bra with it. His eyes darkened as he looked at me.

Before I could protest, he was kissing me again, one hand tangling in my hair while the other explored my body. His mouth left mine to trail down my neck, and when his lips closed over my nipple, I couldn't suppress my moan.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Let me hear you."

My fingers tightened in his hair as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building with each pull of his lips.

"We need to get these off," he said, his hands moving to my jeans. "I need to see all of you."

I lifted my hips to help him, and he carefully worked the denim down my legs, slowing as he reached my injured ankle. His fingers were gentle navigating around the wrap, and even through my desire, I felt a surge of affection for this care.

Once my jeans were off, he sat back on his heels, his gaze traveling over my body. I was wearing simple cotton panties, but the way he looked at me made me feel like I was wearing expensive lingerie.

"Beautiful," he said simply, his hands resting on my thighs. "Every time I see you like this, I can't believe you're mine."

"Your shirt," I managed. "It's not fair that I'm the only one naked."

He smiled and stood to shrug out of his shirt. I'd seen him shirtless countless times, but the sight never failed to make my mouth go dry—all hard muscle and masculine grace.

When his hands moved to his belt, I watched as he unbuckled it and pushed his pants down. Then he was as naked as I was, his cock already hard.

"See what you do to me?" he asked, stepping back between my legs. "I've been hard since I carried you in here."

His hand slid up my thigh, fingers hooking into my panties. "Can I?"