107 – Ivan POV
I hug him.
I cling to him like my life depends on it. Because in a way—it does.
His arms wrap around me, strong and warm, and for the first time... I feel like I'm truly home.
The tears won't stop. I can't help it. They keep sliding down my cheeks, even though I'm trying to be composed. Trying not to be a complete mess in front of him.
But I'm so happy. I've never been this happy in my entire life.
I pull back just enough, tilting my head up.
And I kiss him.
The kiss is soft. A little clumsy. My lips are trembling. I taste salt—my own tears on his mouth.
But it's perfect.
He cups the back of my head, deepening the kiss slowly, gently. His thumb strokes behind my ear in soothing circles. Like he's telling me without words—I've got you. I'll always have you.
I pull away again with a shaky breath.
"I love you," I whisper.
His eyes crinkle softly, the corners of his mouth tilting in that smile that always undoes me.
"I love you more," he murmurs, and presses another kiss to my temple.
I kiss him.
And we fall back onto the bed, tangled in each other.
Unlike our usual frantic kisses—hungry, desperate—this is different.
It's soft. Slow. Like we're saying what we can't put into words. Every press of lips, every brush of fingertips, every breath between us—it's all there.
I slide my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my palms. His weight over me is warm, grounding.
He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper. One of his hands cups my cheek, thumb stroking gently. The other curls around my waist, holding me like I might slip away if he let go.
I sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound like a man starved.
My fingers tangle into his hair, and his quiet groan against my lips sends a little shiver down my spine.
I tilt my head, parting my lips just enough to taste more of him, to give more.
His hand slides down my back, not hurried, just... savoring.
Neither of us is in any rush. For once, we're not chasing a high or teasing until one of us snaps.
We're just here—touching, kissing, wrapped around each other like we have all the time in the world.
Because we do now.
I feel it with every slow glide of his lips over mine. Every careful tilt of his head. Every breathless murmur against my mouth.
This man loves me.
And he's mine.
I smile softly into the kiss.
Zander pulls back just a little, brushing his nose against mine, eyes dark and tender.
"Mine," he whispers.
I nod, breathless. "Yours."
Then—his fingers slip under the hem of the shirt I'm wearing—well, his shirt—and he tugs it off in one smooth motion.
I shiver as the cool air hits my skin, but before I can say anything, he pulls off his own shirt too, tossing it aside.
His gaze sweeps over me—hot, reverent—and my cheeks flush, but I don't look away. Not this time.
He leans down, lips brushing softly over my jaw, then lower—to my throat, my collarbone—each kiss slower than the last, like he's memorizing every inch of me.
My breath hitches. My hands slide up his bare back, fingers mapping the familiar planes of muscle and skin.
I can feel his heart racing, fast and strong, under my palms.
"Beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, voice thick.
He settles over me, chest to chest, skin to skin, and the warmth of him steals my breath all over again.
I arch into him instinctively, my body chasing that closeness. That grounding.
His hand cups the back of my neck, thumb stroking lazily as he kisses me again—deeper this time, like he can't get enough. Like he won't stop until we're both breathless.
Then his hand trails lower, slow and sure, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts.
In one motion, he tugs them off, leaving me bare beneath him.
It's stupid—I've lost count of how many times we've done this—but tonight… under the way he's looking at me, eyes burning, full of so much want… I feel oddly shy.
Heat creeps up my neck. My fingers clutch at the sheets.