The orgasm rolled through her, slower than the night before, deeper, spreading through her limbs like heat from a fire. She heard herself moan, felt him thrust through it, felt his own release follow—a shudder, a groan, his body pressing into hers as he spilled inside her.
They lay there, tangled together, their breath mingling in the quiet morning air. The light had shifted, brighter now, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets.
His hand found her hair, stroking through the tangles, and she pressed her face into his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her cheek.
"What happens now?" she asked, her voice muffled against his skin.
His hand stilled. Then resumed its slow rhythm.
"Now we get married," he said. "For real. Not because of a contract."
She lifted her head, searching his face. "Caleb—"
"I know." He met her eyes, steady and sure. "I know this is fast. I know we barely know each other. But I've spent my whole life being careful, and the one time I wasn't—" He touched the scar above her eye, featherlight. "The one time I let myself *want* something—it was you."
Her throat tightened.
"I'm not asking for forever," he continued. "I'm asking for today. And tomorrow. And as many days after that as you'll give me."
She looked at him—this man who had claimed her, marked her, held her through the night. This man who had seen the cracks in her armor and pressed his thumb into them instead of pulling away.
"Okay," she said, and this time the word felt like a beginning.
He smiled—a real smile, the lines around his eyes deepening, and she felt something shift in her chest. Something that felt terrifyingly like hope.
Outside, the city hummed with life, a thousand stories unfolding in the morning light. But here, in this bed, wrapped in his arms, Mira let herself believe that this one might have a happy ending.