Page 122 of Stand Your Ground

“And I will love you, Livia Young, until the blood in my veins runs cold. You’re not doing this on your own. We’re doing thistogether. And the only thing I want to hear you say right now isyes, sir.”

He kissed me as soon as the words left his lips, hard and passionate and with every promise he’d just made reverberating through him and right into me.

I melted into that kiss, clinging to him with everything I had. My fingers curled in his shirt, my lips moving desperately against his as tears kept slipping free, this time from sheer relief.

When we finally broke apart, my chest was heaving, and I pressed my forehead to his, laughing through the tears. “I can’t believe this.”

“You better believe it,” Carter said, brushing his thumbs over my cheeks. He pressed a softer kiss to my lips, then pulled back and reached for my water glass, sliding it into my hands. “Here. Drink.”

I obeyed, though my hands were trembling so badly half the glass nearly sloshed onto my sweatpants. He steadied it for me, watching me like I might break in half if he let go.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

I exhaled, holding my head in one hand as I set the water back down. “Honestly? I don’t feel any different yet, other than, as you can tell, I don’t feel like getting dressed.” I waved a hand over my ensemble. “But I imagine that’ll change soon enough.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“A sweatpants goddess, for sure.”

His grin spread wide and sure. “Youdorealize I’m going to spoil the shit out of you through this whole thing, don’t you?”

A startled laugh burst from my chest. “Of course you are.”

But then my eyes caught on the collar still sitting on the table, gleaming dark in the candlelight. I picked it up slowly, turning it over in my hands.

“You know,” I said carefully, “in the BDSM community, giving someone this is… a lot more serious than I think you realize.”

His brow arched, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I said, amusement curling in my tone. “To some, it’s essentially equivalent to a wedding ring. A collar means belonging. Commitment. It means… ownership, in the most sacred, consensual way.” My fingers ran over the leather, the metal ring cool against my skin. “It isn’t a casual gift.”

For a second, I thought maybe he’d backpedal, that he’d laugh and say he didn’t know, that he didn’t mean it that way. But instead, Carter tapped his chin like he was lost in thought, then pulled me up long enough to sit in my chair and yank me right back down into his lap.

“You know what? Fuck it. No regrets.” He kissed all over my neck as I laughed and squealed, his arms wrapping around me. Then, he smoothed my hair back, his eyes on mine. “Collar, ring, no jewelry at all — it doesn’t matter. I meant every word I said. I’m yours, Liv.”

The breath rushed out of me, and I sank against him, curling into his chest as he wrapped me up in his arms. For the first time since the news from Doctor Stroud had flipped my world upside down, I felt safe.

I felt steady.

I was home.

My lips brushed against his neck, my voice just a whisper against his skin. “And I’m yours.”

All The Little Things

Carter

I’m going to be a dad.

The laces bit into my palms as I pulled them tight, the way they always did, the ritual so ingrained it should have been muscle memory by now. But tonight, like every night since Livia told me her news, nothing felt automatic.

I’m going to be a dad.

A million other things should have been on my mind: the lineup sheet, the players I’d be matched against, the fact that this was a home game against a division rival with playoff seeding on the line. This was the kind of game that could make or break a season.

But none of that could rival the six words that continued to rattle around in my head, louder than the crowd warming up outside, louder than the squeak of skates cutting across the fresh sheet of ice.

I’m going to be a dad.