Page 19 of Give It a Day (Song-Smith #1)

Damon

The bedroom is a blank canvas, stripped of any identity but deliberately so.

Pristine white walls stretch unbroken, interrupted only by a single, large window draped with sheer curtains that let the moonlight spill across the glossy oak floor.

Against the wall is an understated bed, dressed in crisp white linens.

A vanity sits against one wall, its mirror spotless, the surface bare, as if waiting for her touch.

A small dresser and a single armchair round out the space, each piece minimalist and unobtrusive.

It’s a room left unfinished, not for lack of care but as a quiet offering. For her. For Kaye. For my wife.

Though I only had a day to prepare for her arrival, I wanted to make sure our marital bed is in a room where she can do anything she pleases—decorate it to feel more like her home, or destroy it if she so desires. At this point, I’d give her anything.

But with us in this new space, it feels like Kaye has her walls up again.

I thought I’d finally gotten through to her, but there’s a tension in the air that tells me she’s in her head again, letting the thoughts run rampant.

And if she runs, she knows she can’t evade me.

I’ll catch her, so I simply watch what she’ll do next.

Kaye walks around the room unhurriedly, taking everything in. Earlier, my butler brought her to my bedroom where everything about it was dark and extravagant—the way I like it. But here, our marital bedroom should be about us .

“You’ve been quiet,” I say as I watch her stand by the window. “That’s not like you.”

She doesn’t turn, just stares out into the midnight darkness beyond the window. “Maybe I’ve run out of witty one-liners.”

A smile tugs at my lips despite myself. “Doubtful.”

Finally, she turns, her lips curving into that teasing smirk she wears like armor. “Maybe I’m just overwhelmed by your remarkable charm, Dae. It’s tiring, really.”

I close the door behind me. The click echoes, loud in the silence. “Or maybe you’re stalling. Waiting for me to cross some invisible line, so you can push me back again.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s no real heat in them. “You’re not giving me much to work with. Shouldn’t you be gloating about how you’ve got me right where you want me?”

“I don’t need to gloat,” I say, closing the distance between us in slow, measured steps. “You already know.”

She laughs a short, sharp sound. “You’re too much, Dae.”

“Yet you’re here with me, in our new bedroom.”

She tilts her head, eyeing me with mock curiosity. “Maybe I’m just here for the big bed. It’s been a long day, and like I said, you really are tiring.”

I smile a little, letting her jab land without resistance.

She uses her little jokes like a shield, but I know better.

I’ve seen the way her body betrays her around me.

She doesn’t hate me. She doesn’t even dislike me.

She simply doesn’t want to admit that there’s something between us too palpable to push aside.

I stop a few feet away, giving her space even though every instinct screams at me to close it, to touch her, to claim what’s mine. “You can keep pretending all you want, Kaye, but I know what you’re thinking.”

Her smirk falters for half a second before she catches herself. “Oh, is that what we’re doing now? Reading each other’s minds? Let me guess then, you think that deep down, I’m in love with you, right?”

“No.” The gravity of my voice makes the air heavier between us.

“I know you’re scared because you know that if you run, I’ll always catch you.

I’m your soft landing—the person you can call home—and that scares you for some reason, most likely because you’ve never had anyone you could rely on before. ”

Her breath catches, barely audible, but enough to make my heart drum. She steps back instinctively, bumping into the edge of the bed. “You’re really full of yourself, you know that?”

I take another step, careful to keep my movements slow, controlled. “Maybe, but that doesn’t make me wrong.”

She swallows hard, her bravado cracking enough for me to see the vulnerability underneath.

It’s like seeing a shooting star, such a rare sight.

“What do you want from me, Dae? You’ve already won.

You’ve got the ring on my finger. You showed me off at the reception.

I’m in your bedroom. What else is there? ”

“Everything,” I say without hesitation. “I told you, Kaye. I want everything. Your trust, your joy, your fire. I want every part of you, even the parts you don’t think you can give.”

Her eyes flicker downwards, just for a moment, before she hides behind another joke. “You really need to work on your sales pitch. ‘I want everything’ is a little intense, don’t you think?”

I chuckle. “That’s who I am, Kaye. Intense .”

She sinks onto the edge of the bed. “It’s exhausting, being the center of your world. Can’t you take up a hobby or something?”

I kneel in front of her, resting my hands on the bed at either side of her. “You’re my everything now, little bird. And you’ll get used to it. You have no choice or say on the matter. ”

Her lips twitch, clearly fighting a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” I counter. “I know I’m not easy to deal with, Kaye. I know I’m asking for more than you’re ready to give. But I’ll wait. As long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

She studies me, her humor fading, replaced by a quiet depth. “And what if I never give it to you?”

I lift a hand, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “Then I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it.”

She looks so unsure when she regards me this time that it makes my chest feel heavy, the drumming in my heart hitting harder. Her lips part, letting out a shaky, silent breath before speaking. “I’m your everything, huh?”

“Yes, you are, from the moment we got married until the day I draw my last breath.”

“I’m pretty sure even as a ghost, you’d haunt me.”

“That, I will.” I smile, enjoying that particular joke. Only because it’s true.

The tension between us shifts, no longer sharp or on the edge. It’s clear to me that I want her—that I love her—but she’s not ready to return that. Not yet.

So I’ll spend every waking moment to make her know she can’t escape me, and that she doesn’t have to run unless she wants me to chase her. And I always will, whenever her legs decide to try outrunning her spiraling thoughts.

Her eyes search mine, and I stay put, letting her see that I won’t waver. I haven’t, and I never will. Then she says with an exhausted smirk, “I’ll make our honeymoon a living hell. I’ll make so many demands.”

Of course I know she’s teasing me, but with that brilliant smirk of hers, along with my promise to be patient and less pushy, I go along with it. “Is that so? What sort of demands?”

“Doing things like this with you between my legs.” She bites her bottom lip again, and it drives me instantly insane, with how badly I want her.

“Whatever my wife wishes.” I kiss her cheek and trail down until I reach her neck.

Her sweet moans drive me crazier, making my mind up.

I’m claiming her in this bed too. Besides, our honeymoon starts now.

“You have to know something about me, Kaye. I put all my chips on the table because I never lose.”

“Your luck will run out one day.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask in a husky whisper. “From my view, it looks like I’m about to get luckier.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpans, making me smirk.

“When you’re being this bratty, it only makes me want to put you in your place.”

“Well, my place is getting out of this dress—”

“I like the sound of that.”

“—and taking another bath because I swear I have grass in my ass.”

I stifle a laugh, standing up and grabbing her hands to help her up. “Then I’ll be joining you.”

“Whatever my husband wishes.”

We head to the ensuite. It’s nothing like my private bathroom.

Instead, it’s more similar to our bedroom—all white, pristine, untouched with a rare painting and a chandelier over the bathtub in the center.

There’s a glass-walled shower with side sprays and a control panel.

The bathroom has a mirror as wide as the long countertop with his and hers sinks.

Perfume and oils are bottled in clear crystal glasses, arranged in a way that makes the entire space look inviting.

Kaye scowls in disapproval at the shower’s control panel, throwing a thumb at it as she points her scowl at me. “The chandelier, I can deal with. But a rocket science shower? Really?”

I smile. She makes me do that. “Only the best for my wife.”

She walks over to the bathtub while I fill it with warm water. From the countertop, I take a small glass bottle of oils, letting out a floral fragrance that fills the room. Swiftly, she takes the dropper, then quickly clamps her fingers over it to flood the bath with a layer of oil.

Smiling, she breathes deeply as she removes her dress. I watch, my eyes darkening as my mind dreams up of so many different ways I can mark the curves of her exquisite body.

She steps into the bathtub, tossing the dropper for me to catch, which I do. After setting the glass bottle back on the counter, I join her, and to my pleasant surprise, she makes room for me to sit behind her. She even slides onto my lap before I tell her to.

I wrap my arms around her waist, our bare bodies pressing against each other. I wonder if she can feel my heart beating against her back.

When all is quiet, she unexpectedly plunges down into the bathwater, then shakes her hair around, whipping me in the face and making me grumble. Apparently, that earns me a laugh.

“This is nice, pretty boy,” she says, resting the back of her head on my chest as she looks up at the chandelier. The one on top of us isn’t as big as the one in my private bathroom, but it’s a lot more intricate, with a gold finish that makes it look more delicate.