Chapter 31

POV: Ivy

Lunch with my father was supposed to be casual. A quiet, mentoring kind of thing.

But then he walked in.

Aiden didn’t knock, didn’t hesitate—just strolled into the lunchroom like he owned the place. And technically, half of it, he did.

He dropped into the chair across from me with a calm “Hope there’s still pasta left,” but his eyes locked with mine, and I felt it.

That smirk. That spark.

That promise.

I pressed my thighs together under the table.

He looked far too good for someone who’d nearly gotten me naked in the hallway five minutes ago. Button-up rolled at the forearms. Broad chest stretching the fabric. That thick, dark hair slightly mussed, like he knew exactly what it did to me.

Jonathan, oblivious, was happily talking about onboarding procedures and upcoming client meetings. I nodded along, but under the table, a warm hand slid onto my thigh.

I flinched. Aiden didn’t even glance my way—just moved his fingers a little higher.

“Everything okay?” my dad asked, frowning.

“Mm-hmm,” I said, voice an octave too high. “Pasta’s just… really good.”

Aiden bit back a grin. His thumb stroked small, slow circles, heat curling low in my belly.

I elbowed him under the table, but it only made him chuckle.

“Something you want to share?” Jonathan asked, narrowing his eyes at us.

“No,” I said quickly, grabbing my water and chugging like it could cool the fire Aiden had lit.

But even with all that teasing and tension, something settled warm in my chest. The three of us here—talking, eating, being—felt real. Almost like we’d done it a thousand times before.

Almost like home.

After lunch, we walked into the meeting room. The change in air was instant.

Gone was Ivy, daughter and girlfriend.

This was Ivy Montgomery, legal strategist.

People were already seated—some tech heads, a few department leads, two external advisors. Eyes flicked up when I entered. Curious. A little wary.

I let them look. Let them wonder.

I took the seat at the end of the table, opened my laptop, and raised a brow at the man from earlier—Gavin, who flinched slightly before looking down.

Good.

Aiden sat across from me, Jonathan at my right. Neither spoke. But I could feel them—solid, steady. Watching.

I dove in.

The meeting started with project updates, but it didn’t take long for the conversation to veer toward a high-profile client who was pushing for a contract renegotiation.

“Clause eight is weak,” I said after ten minutes of legal gymnastics from the external advisor. “If this goes to court, we’re exposed. We need to reinforce our language around data usage and exit clauses, especially with their expansion to Europe.”

One of the guys across the table—older, pinstripe suit, slightly patronizing smile—cleared his throat. “That’s… quite an assertion. Are you certain that’s a priority right now?”

I didn’t blink. “Yes.”

He laughed, too lightly. “No offense, Ivy, but I’ve been doing this a long time—”

“And apparently, not well,” I cut in. Calm. Clear. Deadly. “If you had, I wouldn’t have had to rewrite half the framework you presented last week. Which, by the way, is what’s currently on the table.”

A beat of silence. Then Jonathan leaned back with a small, proud smile.

Aiden didn’t even bother hiding his smirk.

I turned back to the advisor. “So unless you have a stronger case, I suggest we move forward with the updated clauses and get the client to sign before their board meeting next Monday.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Yes. That makes sense.”

The room shifted after that. People stopped seeing me as Jonathan’s daughter and started seeing me as someone who deserved this seat. I led the rest of the meeting with clipped efficiency, notes typed, and decisions made.

And when it finally ended and people began to file out, I caught it—just a flicker.

My father, pride shining in his eyes like sunlight.

And Aiden—his gaze locked on mine, intense, burning, like he wanted to drag me into the nearest room and do things that were not professional.

But behind all that heat?

Pride.

Deep. Fierce. Unapologetic.

And maybe even a little awe.

My heart clenched.

Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just someone’s daughter, or someone’s secret.

I was me. In full. And they saw me.

And damn, it felt good.

The office was quieter now.

The usual hum of activity from the law department had mellowed to an occasional keyboard tap, the occasional rustle of papers, the distant clack of someone’s heels in the hallway. My first day was done, and I could finally breathe.

I closed my laptop with a soft click and started packing up my things—my new notebook, the pen I kept fidgeting with all day, and the small folder with notes I’d made during the afternoon meeting. I hadn’t realized how full my head was until I finally stopped moving.

It went well.

Better than I’d expected.

Gavin—the smug one from earlier—had actually nodded at me during the afternoon break. A peace offering, maybe. Or silent acknowledgment. Either way, I didn’t need it.

But what I did need was the quiet, sincere “You’re sharp. Keep that up,” that came from Ms. Ramirez, one of the senior women in the department. She passed my desk on her way out, coat folded over her arm and her expression warm with something like approval.

It hit me deeper than I expected.

I wasn’t just there. I was seen.

Wanted.

Respected.

And part of me wanted to ride that high right into Aiden’s office—to open the door, straddle his lap, and tell him exactly how proud I was of myself, and how much I missed his hands on me today. But I stopped myself at the threshold.

No, I thought. Not now.

I needed something else first.

So I turned and walked to my father’s office.

The door was cracked open. He was inside, reading over something on his monitor, glasses slipping low on his nose. He looked… older today. Or maybe just more human. Maybe because I wasn’t seeing him just as my father anymore—but as my mentor, my boss, my partner in a strange, tangled evolution I hadn’t expected to want so much.

I knocked gently. “Hey.”

He looked up. “Hey, sweety. Come in.”

I stepped in, closing the door behind me and leaning against it for a second.

“How was your first day?” he asked, smile already tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from him. “Honestly?”

He raised a brow. “Always.”

I grinned. “Pretty damn amazing.”

He chuckled. “Yeah? No regrets?”

I shook my head. “None. The team’s good. The work’s… interesting. I mean, some of the contracts are a mess—”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“—but it feels good to be doing something. To be challenged. And not just because I’m your daughter. I know some people thought I’d get a free ride, but I think today I proved I’m not here for shortcuts.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair.

“You did more than prove it. I heard about that clause correction in the meeting. You made waves, Ivy.”

I bit my lip, trying not to beam too hard. “Good waves?”

He smiled. “Very good waves.”

There was a pause. The kind that fills with weight. Soft but full.

I took a breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me this chance. For believing in me. For letting me come here and try, even when it’s complicated.”

He tilted his head, curious. “It’s not that complicated, sweety.”

I swallowed. “And also… thank you for letting me be happy.”

His eyes softened.

“With Aiden,” I added, quieter now. “I know it’s… weird. Not easy. But I love him. And I know he loves me. And just… thank you for not standing in the way of that.”

He leaned forward, arms resting on the desk.

“Ivy, of all the things I’ve done right and wrong in this life, loving you has always been the easiest. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re strong. Smart. Fierce. And if Aiden’s the one who gets to love you now, then yeah, it’s not easy—but it’s not hard either. Because I see how he looks at you. I see what you are when you’re with him.”

I blinked hard, heat stinging the backs of my eyes.

“He makes you shine,” he added. “And if that’s love? Then I’m good with it. Really good.”

Tears threatened to spill, but I held them back with a tight-lipped smile.

“You know, for a security guy, you’re kind of a softie.”

He laughed, standing to walk around the desk. “Only for you, sweety.”

I stood, and he pulled me into a hug—warm and strong, the kind that held years of memories in it. The kind that reminded me I was still his little girl, even when I was standing on my own.

When we pulled apart, he gave me a look. “Now, don’t go making Aiden’s life too easy in there. He’s been staring at his office door like a sad puppy for the last ten minutes.”

I snorted. “He has not.”

He nodded. “Wanna bet?”

I grinned and turned toward the door.

“Hey, Ivy?”

I paused and glanced back.

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly.

I swallowed. “Thanks, Dad. That means more than you know.”

And with that, I walked out, my chest full and tight all at once.

Tomorrow would come with its own chaos, no doubt. But tonight? Tonight, I was whole.

I didn’t hesitate.

The second I stepped out of my dad’s office, I didn’t even pretend I was headed anywhere else. My heels clicked down the hallway with purpose, my heart thudding harder with every step. Aiden’s office was just ahead. His door was closed. The blinds drawn.

Perfect.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

He was sitting behind his desk, glasses low on his nose, focused on something on his monitor. His jaw was tight, the light from the screen casting a soft glow over his face. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms flexing slightly as he tapped at the keyboard.

God.

I locked the door behind me.

That was the only sound I made—but it was enough.

He glanced up, and I swear I saw the shift happen. His gaze darkened the moment it landed on me. His lips parted just slightly. His eyes dropped, dragging slowly down the length of me—from the shape of my hips to the slight arch in my back. He took in everything.

And then he pushed his chair back from the desk. Just a little.

Just enough space.

And he tapped his lap twice.

An invitation. A demand.

My body moved before my brain even caught up. I crossed the room slowly, my breath shallow, my heart thumping against my ribs like it knew exactly where this was going.

When I reached him, he tilted his head back, watching me with that hungry, almost reverent look that never failed to melt me from the inside out.

“How was your first day?” he asked, voice low, already full of something wicked.

I smiled, biting back the heat in my throat. “Amazing,” I said softly. “I’m really enjoying it.”

He hummed, pleased.

“But…” I added, toying with the edge of his collar, “I think I might be developing a tiny crush on my boss.”

That smirk—the one that made my knees weak—curled slow across his lips. “Yeah?”

I nodded, brushing my fingers lightly over the top button of his shirt. “He’s… intense. Kind of scary. But really hot.”

He laughed under his breath, then grabbed my waist and pulled me down onto his lap like he’d been waiting all damn day.

I settled on him, straddling his thighs, each knee on either side of his hips. He was already hard under me. Already burning.

He cupped my face gently, holding me like I was something precious, and kissed me—soft at first. Reverent.

But then it shifted.

His mouth pressed harder, deeper. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, pulling just enough to tilt my head and deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed mine, slow and hot, and my whole body shivered.

I moaned into his mouth, rolling my hips once—just enough for both of us to feel the ache building.

He kissed his way down my jaw, then lower—pressing heat against my neck, my collarbone. Every kiss left fire in its wake.

I gasped, breath catching. “Aiden… we’re at work,” I teased, even as my fingers found the top button of his shirt. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He didn’t even pause. His mouth was right below my ear when he murmured, “You locked the door, sweetheart. I know professionalism’s not what you came in here looking for.”

I let out a soft, breathy laugh.

And then he was unbuttoning my blouse—slow and focused, like every undone button was part of a ritual. I helped him, shrugging it off my shoulders, and then my hands were on his shirt, pushing it off, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the warm skin I’d spent all day missing.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, more urgent. My hands slid into his hair. His mouth claimed mine like it was the only thing he’d been thinking about all day.

He pulled me closer, his hands gripping my hips, grinding me against him with slow, brutal precision.

“You have no idea what it’s done to me,” he growled softly against my lips, “watching you all day. Knowing I couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t have you.”

My nails dug into his shoulders. “You’re touching me now.”

“Not enough.”

And then we weren’t teasing anymore.

We were unraveling.

Chapter 32

POV: Aiden

The second I heard the soft click of the lock, I knew it was her.

That sound—small, deliberate—cut straight through the noise in my mind like a blade. I didn’t even turn. I didn’t have to. The shift in the air, the scent of her, the pulse that suddenly hammered in my throat told me everything I needed to know.

She was here.

And she wasn’t pretending anymore.

I kept my eyes on the screen for a second longer. Just a second. Enough to feel the tension coil inside me, tight and aching. Then I looked up.

And fuck me.

She was standing just inside the door, her back straight, her gaze locked on mine like she wasn’t giving herself a chance to hesitate.

The way she moved—the way her hips swayed slightly with each step toward me—wasn’t something she did on purpose. She didn’t need to. It was just how she was. Natural. Effortless. Devastating.

And mine.

I dragged my eyes down her body—slow, deliberate, taking my time. Every inch of her. The swell of her hips, the soft rise of her chest, the barely-there arch in her spine. She was a walking distraction in heels and defiance, and I’d been holding myself back all damn day. Her shirt, her skirt, she was heaven in a human form.

Perfect.

And mine.

I pushed my chair back just enough.

And tapped my lap.

Twice.

Her eyes flicked to the motion, and something inside her shifted—like the breath she took right before stepping off a cliff. She crossed the room like she belonged here. Because she did.

My lap. My office. My mouth. All of it.

Hers.

When she reached me, I tilted my head back and let my eyes drink her in. She was glowing with something—mischief, desire, maybe even a little nerves—but she was here. And fuck, she was so goddamn beautiful I couldn’t think.

“How was your first day?” I asked, voice low, rough with everything I was feeling.

She smiled, soft and wicked all at once. “Amazing,” she said, brushing her fingers against my collar. “I’m really enjoying it.”

God, her touch.

“But…” she added, playing with my buttons like she owned me, “I think I might be developing a tiny crush on my boss.”

My smirk came slow, lazy. Dangerous.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “He’s… intense. Kind of scary. But really hot.”

I growled, low in my chest, and then my hands were on her waist, dragging her down onto my lap like I’d been waiting for this moment all goddamn day.

Because I had.

She straddled me, soft curves and slow heat pressed to every part of me. I was already hard. Already needing her like air.

I cupped her face and kissed her.

Slow. Reverent. The kind of kiss that said you’re mine and I missed you and I’m never letting you go all at once.

But it didn’t stay soft.

It deepened fast—my hand in her hair, my tongue finding hers, my body grinding up into hers like I needed more, more, more.

She moaned, hips rolling once—and fuck, I felt it. That ache. That hunger. It ripped through me like lightning.

I kissed down her jaw, down her neck, leaving open-mouthed heat against her skin. Her pulse fluttered against my lips, fast and wild.

“Aiden… we’re at work,” she whispered, teasing.

But her hands were on my shirt, fingers already at the buttons.

“You locked the door, sweetheart,” I murmured into her skin. “Professionalism’s not what you came here looking for.”

She laughed, breathless, and I fucking loved that sound. I wanted it tattooed in my memory.

I unbuttoned her blouse slow, one button at a time, like I was unwrapping a gift I’d waited years for. She shrugged it off, revealing soft skin and a black bra I was about to worship like sin.

I kissed her again, deeper, my hands in her hair, on her waist—possessive, hungry. Her body rocked against mine, and I held her tighter, not letting her go.

“You have no idea what it’s done to me,” I whispered against her lips, “watching you all day. Knowing I couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t have you.”

She dug her nails into my shoulders. “You’re touching me now.”

I chuckled darkly. “Not enough.”

Not even close.

And then I stood, lifting her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around me. I turned, her back to the desk, and set her down gently before laying her back across the polished wood.

I kissed her hard one last time, then dragged my mouth down her body, slow and worshipful.

Time to make her forget everything else but me.

She was the one who took her bra off, fingers sliding behind her back with practiced ease, her eyes locked on mine the entire time.

Fuck.

The moment I saw her bare, I forgot how to breathe.

Everything inside me tightened.

Her skin. Her curves. Those perfect tits—already rising with every deep breath she took.

My hands were already on her waist, but I leaned in, dragged my mouth across her collarbone—soft at first. Then I kissed lower, cupping her breast with one hand as my tongue flicked over her nipple. She gasped, and I bit gently, just enough to make her arch against me.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” I muttered against her skin.

She was fire in my arms. Wild and sweet and fucking addictive.

I didn’t want to stop tasting her. But my hands had already moved to her skirt. She helped me slide it off, revealing a tiny scrap of lace that barely passed for underwear.

And then she was in my hands again.

I lifted her like she weighed nothing, set her on my desk, and pressed a kiss to her mouth that was nothing short of a promise.

“Lay back,” I said, hand at her throat, guiding her down with a soft pressure that made her eyes flutter. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

I pushed her panties aside. No time. No patience. She was already glistening, already so fucking ready.

And then I dropped to my knees.

My tongue found her clit and I devoured her—reckless, relentless. I didn’t ease into it. I gave her what I knew she needed. My tongue circled, licked, sucked hard—exactly the way she loved it. Her hips bucked against me, but I held her down, fingers bruising against her thighs as I spread her wide.

Mine.

She was mine.

I glanced up, lips wet, breath hot. “You need to remember how to be quiet right now, baby.”

And then I slid two fingers inside her, slow at first, curling them just right while my mouth found her again.

The moan she gave—choked, restrained, bitten off between her teeth—was the sexiest fucking sound I’d ever heard. Her body tensed, trembled, and then shattered under me. I felt her clench, felt her thighs press against my head, her hands clawing at the desk.

I didn’t stop until she was gasping for breath.

When she sat up, flushed and panting, her hands went straight to my belt.

“I need you,” she whispered.

Fuck, I’d never undressed so fast in my life. I helped her, yanked off my pants and boxers, watching her bend over the desk with that perfect ass on display.

My control frayed.

I tugged her panties down slowly, watching her squirm, teasing us both until I couldn’t take it anymore.

One hand wrapped around her throat, the other gripped her hip—and I thrust inside her in one long, deep stroke.

Her moan was pure sin.

“God, Ivy…” I hissed, still inside her, still reeling. “You have no idea how many times I imagined you bent over this desk today.”

She looked at me over her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. “Then make the fantasy real.”

I growled and pulled back, then thrust again—deeper, harder. My hips slammed against hers in steady, measured strokes at first. I wanted to savor this. Savor her.

But it was Ivy. And control never lasted long with her.

I slid my arm around her, pulled her back so her spine pressed to my chest, my cock still buried inside her.

“This is mine,” I whispered against her ear, hand sliding between her thighs. “Say it.”

Her breath hitched. “Yours.”

I rubbed tight circles over her clit, thrusting deeper, rougher. Her walls clenched around me, and I knew she was close. I could feel it in every gasp, every tremble of her body.

“Come for me, baby girl,” I said, my voice low, almost a growl. “Now.”

And fuck—she did. Her whole body went tight, her nails digging into my arms, her head falling back on my shoulder as she came around me, hard and beautiful and mine.

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

Just a few more thrusts, and I was gone—buried deep, holding her tight, coming undone in the only woman I’d ever truly needed.

When it passed, I stayed there. Arms wrapped around her. My lips pressed to her temple.

“I love you,” I whispered.

She turned her head slightly, a lazy smile pulling at her lips. “I know, I love you too, my soldier.”

Chapter 33

POV: Ivy

It had been a week.

Seven full days of early mornings, coffee-fueled meetings, and awkwardly professional emails. Seven days of sitting across from my dad in conference rooms, pretending I wasn’t acutely aware of Aiden’s gaze tracking my every move like it was instinct.

And somehow… it was good. Like, weirdly good.

I’d expected it to be strange. Tense. Like we’d always be half-holding our breath, waiting for something to blow up. But it hadn’t been that way at all.

If anything, it had been… easy.

Normal.

Except, of course, when it wasn’t.

Because every time Aiden brushed his hand over the small of my back during a strategy meeting—or leaned in close behind me under the guise of pointing out something on a screen—my heart stuttered in ways I couldn’t blame on caffeine.

We were subtle. Careful. Mostly.

Except for the stolen kisses in his office, when I’d lock the door behind me and he murmured a greeting against my lips.

Except for the text he sent me yesterday during a pitch meeting—“I like this dress, but I would like even more to take this off,”

Except for how he brought me coffee every morning, exactly how I liked it, with a little smirk and a whispered “Good morning, baby girl” before brushing a kiss over the corner of my mouth like it was just part of the routine.

Like we were part of a routine.

I’d never been part of anyone’s routine before. Not like this.

It felt terrifying. And a little magical.

I was starting to trust this. Him. Us.

I was starting to imagine what it might feel like to do this longer than a week.

To wake up to his stupidly good coffee and those eyes—every day. To walk into a meeting and know his hand would be there, warm and grounding at my waist. To fall asleep with his breath against the back of my neck, in our own space, our own rhythm.

It was still new. Still tender. But it felt real.

And I wasn’t used to real. I didn’t know how to trust it yet.

But I wanted to try.

The contract was a mess.

Two pages in, and I’d already scribbled half a dozen notes in the margins. The legal language was bloated, contradictory in places, and if someone didn’t rein in the vendor’s lawyer soon, my father was going to throw a pen across the room. Or a chair.

I was mid-sentence in my notes when my phone buzzed on the desk.

Aiden: Can I steal you for a sec?

My stomach flipped. I smoothed my expression out automatically—like someone might be watching—and picked up the phone.

ME: For actual work? Or are you just bored and missing me already?

A beat passed. Then:

Aiden: I’m dying in here. Come rescue me.

I bit my lip and stood, grabbing the folder I’d been working on. Totally justifiable. I could help him with something. And if it turned into a few minutes of distraction?

Even better.

Aiden’s office door was closed, blinds half-drawn like usual. I knocked once and stepped in before he even answered.

He was standing near his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. That usual slow smile curved his mouth when he saw me.

“Miss Montgomery,” he said, low and playful. “That was fast.”

I raised a brow. “You sounded desperate.”

“Oh, I am.”

I tilted my head, smirking as I approached. “For help… or for me?”

He didn’t answer with words. Just reached for me—one hand finding my waist, the other taking the folder from my fingers and tossing it carelessly onto the desk.

His hand slid around, pulling me closer until our bodies met. “Why not both?” he murmured against my jaw, his lips brushing the skin beneath my ear.

I shivered, biting back a smile. “This is wildly unprofessional.”

He kissed the corner of my mouth. “You locked the door?”

I hadn’t.

“I was distracted,” I whispered.

“Mm. That’s dangerous.”

He kissed me again, softer this time. His fingers curled around my waist, anchoring me. I melted into the heat of him, heart racing. God, it was so easy to get lost like this—to forget the world outside his office even existed.

And then—

The door slammed open.

My heart stuttered. Aiden tensed. I couldn’t see who it was—not yet, not from the angle we were standing. But I felt the wave of fury crash into the room before I even heard the voice.

“You’ve already moved on?” she shrieked.

I froze.

Everything in me locked up, breath suspended mid-inhale.

That voice.

Aiden’s hand was still on my waist.

Patricia.

I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. My feet were rooted to the floor, my chest squeezing tighter with every second.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she screamed. “You’re already screwing someone new? In your office, Aiden? Are you serious?”

I still couldn’t breathe.

My blood turned to ice. I could feel Aiden’s hand twitch against my waist—whether to hold me or release me, I didn’t know.

Then I turned.

I wish I hadn’t.

She looked like a storm given skin—blonde hair flawless, curled like she’d just walked out of a blowout bar, lips painted in a sharp, ruthless red that matched the fury in her eyes. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stepped inside like she owned the damn building. Like she used to.

Her mouth fell open when she saw me. Her expression twisted.

Not just fury.

Not even just betrayal.

It was personal.

“You,” she spat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I blinked. My body locked up. She was staring straight through me—like she’d been hit, like I was some cruel punchline to a joke she hadn’t seen coming.

“Ivy?” Her voice cracked around the scream. “Jonathan’s daughter? You’re fucking Jonathan’s daughter?!”

My stomach plummeted. My breath caught in my throat, and the world narrowed to the echo of her voice and the heat crawling up my chest.

“No,” she said, shaking her head like she could rewind the last ten seconds. “No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to blow up everything and then crawl into bed with her.”

“I didn’t—” Aiden started, voice steady, calm, unbothered.

But she cut him off like he hadn’t even spoken.

“I knew it,” Patricia hissed. “I knew something was off. The texts. The way you started staying at that place. All your excuses. God—this is why?”

I stood there, frozen. Silent. Small.

“Ivy,” Aiden said, his hand still at my waist, grounding me, “it’s okay—”

It wasn’t okay.

Because even as his hand held me close, even as I knew, knew, that we hadn’t done anything wrong, some part of me—the part I thought I’d buried deep—wondered if I had been the reason.

If I’d been part of the final crack in their already fractured marriage.

If the late-night glances, the comfort, the pull between us… had started long before we ever touched.

If I’d been waiting for him without even realizing it.

Was I the reason she looked at me like that?

Patricia’s fury burned into my skin, her expression a mix of disgust and heartbreak and something wild—like she was unraveling right there in front of us.

She looked at me like I was the one who stole something from her. Like I’d taken what was rightfully hers.

And maybe I had.

This wasn’t a stolen kiss anymore.

This wasn’t thrilling or sexy or secret.

This was fallout. Raw and public and real.

“Say something!” Patricia screamed.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Just stood there in the ruins of our moment, trying not to break.

But Aiden didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

He wasn’t looking at Patricia.

He was looking at me.

And his grip on my waist didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened.

Like I was the only person in the room.

Chapter 34

POV: Aiden

“Don’t,” I said.

Not loud. Not angry. Just… final.

It was like throwing cold water on a fire.

Patricia flinched.

Her lipstick—red like blood, like warning—looked too bright for the office lights. Her perfectly tailored jacket, the pointed heels, the high-gloss blowout—she’d dressed for war, and I was done playing soldier.

“You don’t get to come in here and yell at her.”

I didn’t move from Ivy’s side. My hand stayed on her waist. She was trembling—barely, but I could feel it. And I wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not for anything.

“She—” Patricia started, jaw clenched, voice trembling with rage.

“No,” I cut in. “You don’t get to rewrite history, Patricia.”

I stepped forward once. Just enough to put my body between them.

“You asked for the divorce,” I said. “You were the one who said we were done. I was still trying when you were already gone.”

She opened her mouth, but I wasn’t finished.

“I held you when your world was falling apart. I stood by you when you didn’t know who you were anymore. When the business was failing, when your mom died, when you couldn’t get out of bed—I was there. Even when we were cracking, I stayed. You were the one who let go.”

The rage on her face shifted—something deeper. Something rawer. But I didn’t let it stop me.

“And now you want to walk in here and scream because I’ve found something good?” I glanced at Ivy, her wide eyes locked on mine. “Because for once, I feel like I’m alive again?”

Patricia’s hands clenched at her sides. “You were married—”

“We are divorced, paper signed and all, and we hadn’t touched each other in almost a year, Patricia,” I snapped. “We were sleeping in separate rooms. You were at the gym more than at home, and don’t lie to me about Jason. I saw the messages. But I kept the Jason thing a secret; I didn’t tell anyone about the cheating because I respected you. You wanted out long before you had the courage to say it.”

Her face paled.

I turned back to Ivy. Her eyes were still wide. Hurt. Embarrassment. Guilt.

No.

I cupped her cheek gently. “This isn’t about you, Ivy.”

Her breath hitched. I knew she needed to hear it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. We started after. After it was over. After she left. After I realized I’d been surviving and calling it a life.”

I looked back at Patricia.

“You lost the right to have an opinion the day you signed the papers,” I said. My voice stayed low, but there was no mistaking the steel in it. “You asked for the divorce. You got it. You don’t get to walk in here and act like I betrayed you when you were already gone.”

Patricia’s lips curled. “I was here for the lake house keys. Not this pathetic soap opera.”

“Right,” I said flatly. “You just happened to come into my office without knocking, while screaming your head off, for house keys that don’t belong to you. Try again.”

She crossed her arms, but her stance had shifted. She knew I saw through her. She’d come here to pick a fight. To cause damage. To hurt someone—maybe not even me. Maybe Ivy most of all.

I stepped in front of her, shielding Ivy again, my back straight, voice unwavering.

“I gave you everything you wanted. The clean break. The house in Tahoe. Half the shares. You signed your name at the bottom of that decree. So don’t stand here pretending like you still have a stake in this.”

“Ivy,” she hissed again, venom in every syllable. “She’s a child. Jonathan’s daughter—”

“Don’t,” I growled. That was the last time I’d hear her say Ivy’s name like it was filth. “She is none of your business. Not her name. Not her body. Not her heart.”

The door behind her opened.

“Is there a problem here?” Jonathan’s voice cut in, deep and sharp like the edge of a blade.

Patricia turned.

And she paled.

Jonathan stepped into the room slowly, calm but cold. He looked at her like she was something he’d scraped off his boot.

“Ah,” he said dryly. “Still making scenes, I see. You always did love an audience.”

“I—”

“No,” he snapped. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t get to barge in, scream at my daughter, and pretend like any of this is your concern. You’re done, Patricia. You were done a long time ago.”

She flinched. Actually flinched.

Jonathan walked to Ivy’s side, placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked her over carefully.

“You okay?” he asked her gently.

She nodded, still too shaken to speak.

He turned to me. “You?”

“Fine,” I said. My voice was low. My hand didn’t leave Ivy’s waist.

Jonathan turned back to Patricia. “Then I suggest you leave before I call security myself. And if I ever hear you’ve laid a hand—or a word—on my daughter again, we’ll have a different kind of conversation. One that ends with lawyers.”

Patricia blinked like someone had slapped her, then turned without another word and left, heels scraping hard against the floor.

The silence she left behind was thick. Heavy. But better.

I looked down at Ivy.

She looked up at me like she didn’t know whether to cry or run or collapse.

I touched her cheek.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said again. “You didn’t wreck anything. This was already broken before you ever touched it.”

“I just…” she whispered. “She looked at me like I ruined her life.”

“She ruined her own life,” I said. “She just didn’t want to be alone when it came apart.”

I leaned in, kissed her temple softly. “She doesn’t get to take this from us. Not even for a second.”

I glanced at Jonathan, who gave me a nod, and then stepped out of the room—giving us space.

I turned fully to Ivy, holding her close. Her breathing still stuttered against my chest.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured. “I’ve got you.”

She clung to me. “What now?”

I pulled back just enough to see her face.

I held her face gently in my hands, her skin still warm, her breath still shaky. I didn’t want this memory—Patricia, the screaming, the pain—to linger in her bones.

“I was going to wait,” I said, voice low, rough with everything I felt, “but I can’t.”

She blinked up at me, eyes wide and shining.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small silver key. “The lake house. It’s finished.”

Her breath caught.

“I know I’ve been staying at your apartment like it’s temporary. Like I was just passing through until the construction was done.” I looked into her eyes. “But that wasn’t the plan. Not really.”

“Ivy…” I took a breath. “I don’t want to wake up without you. I don’t want mornings that don’t start with your bare legs in my lap and you stealing my coffee. I don’t want to go to work without knowing you’ll be there in the middle of the day, texting me about contracts or teasing me until I lose focus. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in every single corner of it.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

I caught them with my thumb, slow and reverent.

“So,” I said, pressing the key into her palm, “this house… it’s yours. Ours. If you want it.”

She stared at it, then at me. “Are you serious?”

I smiled softly. “Have I ever not been?”

She launched forward, kissing me hard. Her fingers twisted in my shirt, her tears wetting my lips. She pulled back just enough to whisper, breathless, “I love that I have a key to the lake house. But Aiden…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really far from the office.”

I laughed, forehead resting against hers. “You’re right. It is.”

“So,” she said, pretending to consider, “I’ll stay at my apartment during the week. With you, obviously. And on weekends, we’ll go to the lake house. Be naked and cozy and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

I grinned. “You thought that through.”

“I’m a lawyer,” she said, brushing her thumb against my jaw. “Strategic planning is kind of my thing.”

“Then maybe,” I murmured, lips brushing her ear, “you should start strategically planning all the ways I’m going to fuck you in that lake house.”

She gasped softly, her body melting against mine again, and I caught her in my arms like she belonged there.

Because she did.

Chapter 35

POV: Ivy

The key glinted on my nightstand.

Aiden had already left for the office—he had a morning meeting and I had promised to meet him there later—but I hadn’t moved. Not really.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, legs curled up, fingers brushing the cool metal like it was sacred.

It wasn’t just a key.

It was a future. Ours.

A promise that I hadn’t ruined anything. That I hadn’t just stepped into his life like a wrecking ball—because he’d made space for me. With both hands, he’d carved out a place where I could rest, breathe, belong.

My throat tightened, but I smiled. God, I couldn’t stop smiling lately.

Even at the office, working between meetings with my dad and Aiden, negotiating contracts and managing clients—I was happy. Genuinely, absurdly happy. Not just because of Aiden, but because I’d finally stopped running from my own life.

That afternoon, I sat down with them both in Jonathan’s office—Aiden lounging in the chair beside me, Jonathan behind the desk, brows raised—and told them I wanted to stay.

“For good,” I said. “Not just an experiment. I want in.”

My dad’s face cracked into one of those rare, overwhelmed smiles. He stood up and came around the desk, pulled me into a hug that smelled like coffee and relief. “You sure, sweetheart?”

“Completely,” I said, eyes stinging.

Aiden’s hand found mine. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

The next day, my official contract was signed. Salary, title, everything. Ivy Montgomery—legal strategist, partner in training, completely in love.

And that weekend?

Aiden took me to the lake house.

We drove up after work Friday evening, the air warm with the kind of spring heat that wrapped around your skin and made you want to be touched. I kicked off my shoes the moment we stepped inside, letting the hardwood kiss my bare feet, turning in a slow circle as I looked around.

It was beautiful.

Dark wood beams. Big open windows. A fireplace. A kitchen I was already planning to climb onto.

“I love it,” I whispered.

Aiden came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Good,” he murmured against my ear. “Because I plan on doing very inappropriate things to you in every single room.”

I laughed, low and breathless. “Strategic planning?”

“Execution,” he growled.

He didn’t give me a second to respond—just turned me in his arms and kissed me like we had nowhere to be but here. No timelines. No contracts. Just skin and want and love.

He carried me upstairs like I weighed nothing. This night was slow and hot and endless.

I was already panting by the time Aiden kicked the bedroom door closed behind us.

“Strip,” he said, voice low and commanding.

My breath caught.

I stood at the edge of the bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp wrapping golden light around his face, his broad shoulders, his wild green eyes.

“Now?” I teased, my voice barely a whisper.

“Now,” he growled. “Clothes off. All of them. I want to see you. All of you.”

So I did.

Slowly.

I peeled off my shirt first, dragging the fabric over my head. His eyes tracked every movement, heat rolling off him in waves. My jeans came next. Then my bra. My panties.

He didn’t move.

He just stared at me like I was the only thing that had ever made sense in his entire damn life.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re so goddamn beautiful it hurts.”

I crossed the room toward him, naked and unashamed. I’d never felt more wanted. Never felt more safe in my own skin.

“Your turn,” I said, voice husky.

He smiled—slow, dark, reverent—and pulled his shirt over his head. My mouth went dry. That chest. That body. That man.

“Still want me to undress,” he murmured, “or should I just fuck you with my mouth first?”

My knees wobbled.

“Is that a real question?” I breathed.

He didn’t answer.

He dropped to his knees in front of me like I was something holy, and his mouth found the inside of my thigh. A kiss. Then another. Higher. Closer.

“Spread for me, baby.”

God.

I obeyed.

He groaned, dragging his mouth over my center like he was starving—like nothing else had ever mattered.

I cried out, hands fisting in his hair, hips bucking.

“Aiden—”

He licked deeper, sucked harder.

“Taste so sweet,” he muttered, tongue flicking against my clit. “I’ll never get enough of this.”

I shattered.

Right there. Standing. His mouth on me. His hands gripping my thighs like he’d never let go.

He caught me as I collapsed forward, cradling me in his arms, laying me gently on the bed.

“You okay?” he whispered, kissing my temple.

“I love you,” I gasped. “So fucking much.”

His eyes softened. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He leaned down, kissing me like he wanted to crawl inside my soul.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you back.”

Then he kissed down my neck, across my chest, sucked my nipple into his mouth until I moaned and arched. His hand slid between my thighs again, fingers finding me soaked and wanting.

“Already wet for me again,” he murmured. “You want more, Ivy?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

He lined himself up, rubbing the thick head of his cock against my entrance.

“Tell me.”

“I want you.”

“How bad?”

“Enough to beg.”

His grin turned feral. “Then beg.”

I grabbed his face, eyes burning. “Please, Aiden. Please fuck me. I need you.”

That was it.

He surged inside me with one deep, hard thrust that stole my breath. My fingers clawed at his back, his name breaking on my lips.

“God, you feel like home,” he rasped, hips driving into me, slow and powerful. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted.”

I wrapped my legs around him, drawing him deeper.

We moved together like we were built for it. Every stroke, every gasp, every whispered I love you dragged me closer to the edge.

He buried his face in my neck, voice thick with need.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby. I never will.”

I came with his name on my lips and his love in my chest, and he followed—groaning, body trembling, spilling inside me like he couldn’t hold back a second longer.

He collapsed beside me, pulling me onto his chest, wrapping us in the covers and his warmth.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, fingers in my hair. “You know that, right?”

I nodded, pressing a kiss to his chest. “And you’re mine.”

Chapter 36

POV: Ivy

I woke up warm.

Like, soul-deep, buried-in-the-sheets, wrapped-in-his-arms kind of warm.

Aiden’s chest was against my back, one strong arm heavy over my waist, his hand splayed possessively across my bare stomach. Our legs were tangled. Our skin still sticky with last night’s heat. I didn’t even care. I didn’t want to move.

His breath tickled my neck.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep.

My heart fluttered. “Mm. Is it morning already?”

“Barely,” he said, pulling me tighter. “You’re not allowed to move. Not yet.”

I giggled, stretching just enough to make my spine arch into him. He groaned.

“Don’t tease me like that. I’m a man recovering from multiple orgasms.”

I turned in his arms to face him. God, he looked good in the morning. Hair messy. Jaw shadowed. Those green eyes soft and happy.

“Recovering, huh?” I said, grinning. “Because I was about to offer to make breakfast.”

He blinked. “You cook?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not totally useless.”

“You’re perfect,” he said, leaning in to kiss my nose. “But now I want to see you in my kitchen.”

He threw on boxers. I found his T-shirt from last night—ridiculously oversized on me—and padded barefoot to the kitchen with him. The lake house smelled like pine and morning light. My heart felt stupidly full.

I cracked eggs into a pan while Aiden made coffee, brushing against me every chance he got.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I muttered as he “accidentally” pressed against my ass again.

“Can’t help it,” he said, smirking. “You in my shirt is messing with my brain.”

“I’m making breakfast,” I warned. “Be a gentleman.”

He stepped back, hands raised. “Fine. I’ll behave.”

I flipped the eggs, poured juice, and set plates on the counter. The second we sat, I gave him a sidelong glance.

“You know,” I said casually, “we haven’t had sex in this kitchen yet.”

He choked on his coffee.

I smiled sweetly.

“You’re dangerous,” he growled.

“You like it.”

He stood slowly. I kept talking like I wasn’t trying to get him to break.

“Just saying. We have a bit of a thing with kitchens. First kiss in a kitchen. First time I got bent over a counter. First time you made me—”

He was already behind me, hands on my hips. Body warm and delicious against mine.

“You want it here, baby?” he whispered, voice low and dark.

I nodded, breath catching.

He spun me, lifted me onto the counter like I weighed nothing. His eyes were wild now. Hungry.

“This kitchen is never going to be the same.”

And it wasn’t.

He groaned, low and deep in his chest, as he stepped between my thighs and grabbed my waist like he owned me—like there wasn’t a single piece of me that wasn’t already his. His mouth crashed into mine, the kiss starting slow, lips soft, reverent… then rougher, deeper. Hungrier. Desperate.

Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss me or devour me.

His hands slid up under the hem of his shirt—his shirt that I was wearing—and skimmed over my skin, brushing the undersides of my breasts until his thumbs rolled over my nipples. I gasped, the fabric catching against them, sensitive and already aching for him. His tongue tangled with mine as he teased and played, his touch stealing my breath in all the ways I loved.

Then he dropped one hand between my thighs, stroking my bare center. I whimpered into his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against my lips, “No panties?”

I smirked, voice wrecked. “Not around you.”

“Fuck.” His eyes burned. “Always so wet for me. My filthy, sweet girl.”

His thumb pressed into my clit, and I arched, a whimper spilling from my throat. My body trembled, already oversensitive from the night before, every nerve singing under his touch.

“You like that,” he said, voice dark, rough. “Love how you respond to me, baby girl.”

I couldn’t speak. Not when he pushed a finger inside me, curling it just right, dragging a strangled moan from my lips. My nails sank into his shoulders. My thighs clenched around his hips, pulling him in tighter.

“Yes. Like that. Let go for me.”

“Aiden…” I tried, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. My orgasm hit hard and fast, my head falling back, breath catching as I cried out and shattered around him, convulsing against his hand.

He kissed me through it, swallowing my moans, his body pressed so tightly to mine I could feel his cock twitching against my thigh.

I reached for his waistband, fingers fumbling. “Now,” I begged, voice hoarse. “Please.”

He didn’t make me ask again.

Boxers gone in a blink. His cock—thick, hard, heavy—pressed against me, and then he was inside. One deep, brutal thrust. We both gasped.

“Fuck—Aiden—”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. My body arched off the counter, cold marble biting into my skin as he drove into me again and again, hips relentless, perfectly punishing. His hands gripped my hips like he was anchoring himself to this moment. To me.

“Look at you,” he growled, eyes locked on mine. “All mine. Making my house a fucking home.”

My hands flew to his face, holding him as another orgasm tore through me—raw, feral, deeper than the first. I sobbed his name, legs tightening around him as I broke apart.

He followed, groaning against my mouth, his thrusts slowing as he spilled inside me. We collapsed against each other, breathless and shaking, both completely undone.

His forehead pressed to mine.

“You,” he whispered, brushing my damp hair back from my face with a kind of tenderness that made my chest ache, “are never allowed to leave this kitchen.”

I laughed, breath catching on something that felt too big for words. I wrapped my arms around his neck, still full of him, still dizzy from everything we were.

“Deal,” I whispered back, pulling him into another kiss. “As long as you keep fucking me on every surface of it.”

One Month Later

It was a Wednesday.

A plain, ordinary Wednesday—emails, meetings, coffee breaks. My heels were off under my desk, and my fourth espresso shot was wearing off fast.

But something felt… different.

It wasn’t the fact that I was happy—no, I’d been happy for weeks. Working at the company felt right. Jonathan had stopped hovering, Aiden had stopped pretending he wasn’t obsessed with me during work hours, and I had finally figured out how to use the office printer without it jamming.

What was different was my calendar.

4:00 p.m. — Meet Aiden.

No context. No explanation.

So I messaged him.

Ivy: “You’re being mysterious.”

Aiden: “You love it.”

Iv: “I do. But I still want details.”

Aiden: “Be ready by four. I’m picking you up.”

And at 4:00 on the dot, he walked into my office like he owned the entire building—broad shoulders in a navy button-down, sunglasses hooked in his shirt, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

God, I would never get over him.

“You’re punctual,” I said, standing up and smoothing my dress.

He didn’t answer. Just crossed the room, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me—a soft, lingering kiss that made my knees weak and my heart sprint.

Then he whispered, “Let’s go, baby girl.”

We drove through the city. Not toward the lake house, and not toward our usual dinner spot. I asked questions, of course. He just grinned and refused to answer.

“Aiden,” I warned as we turned into a quiet street lined with trees and blooming hydrangeas. “If you’re trying to murder me, this is a very charming place to do it.”

“Not murder,” he murmured. “Something better.”

He parked in front of a white house with blue shutters. Classic. Modern. A porch swing. My heart started to race, and I didn’t know why.

Until he got out, walked to the passenger side, opened my door—and pulled a key out of his pocket.

“Aiden?” I blinked. “What… what is this?”

He didn’t say a word. Just grabbed my hand and led me to the door. My heart was pounding.

Inside, the house was sun-drenched and cozy—wide windows, warm wooden floors, a kitchen with marble counters and hanging copper pots. Everything felt like it had been made with us in mind.

I turned to him, my breath caught in my throat. “Are we…?”

He nodded slowly, hands on my hips. “I found this place a few weeks ago. It reminded me of us. Quiet, strong, a little sexy.”

I laughed through the lump in my throat. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said, brushing his nose against mine. “But your apartment is the size of my sock drawer, and I’m a big man. I need room to breathe.”

I choked on a laugh, but tears were burning my eyes. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack,” he said, then softened. “I want us to build something. A life. A home. Weekdays in the city. Weekends at the lake. You and me. Always.”

Emotion choked me. I dropped my purse and sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, tugging him close by his belt loops, wrapping my legs around his hips.

“This counter,” I said, swiping my palms along the marble, “is the perfect height for kitchen sex.”

He threw his head back with a low groan. “You’re going to kill me in this house.”

I smiled, pressing my forehead to his. “Let’s buy it. Let’s make it ours.”

He kissed me softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” I whispered.

His arms tightened around me, and for a long moment, we just stood there—wrapped around each other in the middle of a future we never expected but had always wanted.

Then he said, “Let’s build a family here.”

And I knew he meant it.

No longer stolen moments.

No longer secrets.

No longer forbidden.

Just us. Together.

---

The end