Page 64 of Convenient Vows

He begins to move, slow and steady, his hips rocking into mine, and I meet him, my body rising to match his rhythm. It’s not fast, not frantic, but it’s intense, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. I feel him everywhere, his hands gripping my hips, his lips brushing my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“Mara,” he groans, his voice thick with need, and I tighten around him, my walls clenching as I chase my release. His eyes meet mine, and I see it—the vulnerability, the need, the raw emotion he’s been holding back.

I’m close, so close, and I feel him quicken, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. His name falls from mylips, a plea, a surrender, and he kisses me, deep and hungry, as we teeter on the edge.

And then we fall, together, our bodies trembling as we climax, our cries mingling in the air. Zasha collapses on top of me, his weight heavy but comforting, his heart pounding against mine.

For a long moment, we just lie there, our breaths slowly returning to normal, our bodies still joined. His hand moves to my hair, his fingers threading through it, and I close my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me.

But as I lie there, in the aftermath of what we’ve just shared, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more, something still unspoken, still hanging between us. Zasha lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, and I see it—the question, the uncertainty, the raw emotion he’s still holding back.

And I wonder, as his lips brush mine in a soft, tender kiss, what it is he’s not saying. What it is he’s still afraid to let go of. The room is wrapped in stillness, thick with the scent of skin and warmth and something that feels like peace.

Our bodies are now tangled beneath the sheets, my cheek resting over the steady rhythm of his heart. Neither of us speaks, but it’s not silence. It’s reverence.

A pause that holds weight — like we both know something just changed between us, even if we haven’t put it into words yet.

Zasha’s fingers move lazily along my back, a silent promise in every touch. And for a while, we just breathe. Then, after a few minutes, he exhales — slow, like something just landed in him.

I feel him shift beneath me.

He brushes a kiss to my forehead and murmurs, “I almost forgot…”

I lift my head, dazed and drowsy, watching as he slips from the bed, naked but unbothered, moving across the room like he’s on a mission.

He stops at the dresser.

And that’s when I see it — the bouquet of wildflowers.

Still wrapped in crinkled paper, the stems slightly tilted from where he dropped them earlier.

Zasha picks them up carefully, like they’re something fragile.

He walks back towards the bed and gets back into it, holding the bouquet out with both hands.

“These were supposed to come first,” he says quietly. “But I couldn’t wait.”

Something in my chest pulls tight. This man—this sharp-edged, lethal man—brought me wildflowers, but couldn’t wait to hold me.

I take them from him slowly, pressing them to my chest like they’re made of gold. A smile curves at the corner of my mouth. “You’re not as bad at this as you think.”

His lips twitch into the smallest smile. But it’s real.

22

Chapter 19

Xiomara

Being invited out by the girls feels wonderful.

The boutique smells like clean cotton and vanilla — soft, expensive, and soothing. Light streams through the tall glass windows, glinting off racks of cashmere baby blankets, cream-colored bassinets, and price tags that would give most people a heart attack.

I walk in first, adjusting the strap of my handbag, eyes drifting over a display of ridiculously cute baby booties shaped like lambs. I’m half-smiling to myself when I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking.

“Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in too long,” Scarlett calls out.

I turn as she enters, dressed in effortless elegance as always. Alina trails behind her in something soft and pastel, glowing the way only a woman happily growing a child can.

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