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The rings were handed to us. We slid them on each other’s fingers. Her hands didn’t shake. And then the priest finally said the words I’d been waiting a lifetime for.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

He looked at me.

“You may kiss the bride.”

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her like the world wasn’t watching and the city didn’t exist beyond this room. Like I was a man dying of thirst in the desert and she was the first cool drink of water I’d had in days.

Finally, she was unequivocallymine.

Now and forever.

CHAPTER 42

Sloane

The doors closed behind us with a quiet click.

There was no more music, no more cameras, no more guests watching from the shadows with champagne in their hands and whispered rumors on their lips.

It was just the two of us. Alone. Together.

Nikolai had brought me to an extravagant hotel suite that night at the top of a skyscraper. Roses were strewn throughout the room and there was chilled champagne already waiting for us, freshly poured, bubbling and just waiting to be drunk.

The lights were low. The city stretched below the windows, a field of glowing embers, and in the reflection, I could see us. His jacket was already gone, his tie undone, his eyes on me, as ravenous for me as I was for him.

His gaze traveled down the length of me, studying the wedding gown I’d worn for him and only him, the diamonds at my ears, the ring on my finger. His ring.

He reached for me and didn’t speak. His hand lifted to my shoulder, fingers edging beneath the strap of the gown. He pulled it down gently, followed by the other, baring me slowly, letting the silk fall, rippling down my body. When it pooled at my feet, I stepped out of it.

His breath caught. I stood before him in nothing more than silky, lacy bra and panties, trembling with anticipation under the heat of his gaze.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

I obeyed.

I heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at me. The subtle exhale as he unclasped my bra, guiding the straps down my arms until it fell to the floor and then he peeled the lace over my hips and down my legs. I took in a long slow breath when I was entirely naked. He didn’t rush, instead taking his time to brush his fingers over every inch of me, sending fiery trails of sensation everywhere he touched.

He turned me around, stepped in close, and cupped my face in both hands. “My baby girl, I’m going to show you what it means to be mine tonight.”

“I’ve always been yours, Daddy.”

He lifted me in one fluid motion and carried me to the bed. I sank into the sheets, warm and heavy, and he came down over me with reverence in every touch. His mouth found my collarbone, then lower, kissing every inch of my body.

When his lips captured one nipple, sucking gently, then harder, I cried out with pleasure. My eyes slid shut, and the sensation rolled through my entire body.

When his fingers ventured down and parted me, slipping through the wetness already gathering between my thighs, I moaned his name.

He took his time teasing me, his thumb stroking over my clit again and again, sending ripples of pleasure through me. His touch was gentle, and my entire body pulsed with fire.

This time, though, I didn’t want gentle.

I wanted it hard.

Fast.

Rough.