Chapter 32 The villa overlooked the Amalfi Coast, all crumbling cliffs and soft sunlight, the sea stretching out so far it blurred into the sky. The ceremony was private-lavish, but intimate-mostly the way Sienna had insisted when she'd caught me attempting to book a cathedral that could accommodate four hundred guests. "We're not throwing the fucking Met Gala, Matt," she'd said. I'd let her win that one. It didn't matter where it was. Didn't matter who was there, outside of us, Zach, Bea, and Bella. What mattered was her becoming mine, really and truly mine. We'd planned it fast. It had barely been more than six months after the twins were born that she'd looked at me and said, "Amalfi Coast?" as if we'd been spit balling ideas for it - we hadn't. It took me zero convincing, and within a week, we'd had almost everything booked, and within a month, we'd flown across the Atlantic. Sex on the plane had been much easier this time with Margot minding the kids and a private room on my-our-jet. I'd invited Ryan. Purely out of spite. I'd imagined him standing somewhere near the back, Lauren on his arm, face tight with fake support while I married the woman he'd broken and tried to scare away from me. But he didn't show. I wasn't surprised - just a little disappointed I couldn't gloat in person. Anyone who mattered was there. Jules looked like she'd stepped out of a Vogue editorial on my dime in her pale, light green dress, smug as hell because apparently she'd known we'd end up here before we had. Margot wore more of a deep, muted green, a two-piece set of flowing pants and a dress shirt, ever prepared in case one of the kids needed wrangling. And when the ceremony music started and Zach walked out in his little suit, six and taller and proud as he pushed the twins' stroller down the aisle like it was a royal parade, I didn't stand a chance against the burning behind my eyes. My chest cracked open watching them. My boy. My girls. All of them, a part of this. But then the music shifted, swelling, and nothing in the goddamn world could've prepared me for her. She didn't wear white. That was the first thing I noticed. Instead, she'd gone with the one color she knew would get a fucking rise out of me - soft fucking yellow. It was delicate, sweet, off the shoulders on her arms, but clinging all the way down to her thighs. It was barely a wedding dress, but it didn't matter. It undid me all the same. It fit her like a glove, hugging every inch of her that made me weep, and her hair was twisted back and out of her face with gold pins, brunette waves cascading down her back with ease. But it was the look in her eyes, steady and sharp and locked on mine, that hit harder than anything I'd felt in my life. The way she'd looked in Tulum was nothing compared to this. This was psychological warfare. This was against the Geneva Convention. She smirked when she saw my face, like she knew, and of course she did. She knew exactly what she was doing when she picked that. The ceremony wasn't long. We kept the formalities brief, just enough to satisfy the officiant, just enough to keep the illusion of tradition. But then it was our turn to speak. She went first. "Matt," she said, holding both of my hands in hers, her eyes locked on mine. "When I met you, I thought you were an emotionally stunted, rich asshole who couldn't commit to dinner plans, let alone a relationship. And I was right." I snorted. "But," she carried on, "you learned to show up. You made space. You let me eat all of the pickles out of your fridge without complaining. You built a life with me, one layer at a time." Her throat worked, her eyes starting to go glassy. "Even when you were scared," she added, her voice cracking. "You-You've given me the world and then had the nerve to act like I was the one doing you a favor." She squeezed my hands. "So, this is me saying yes to every part of it, not just marrying you. Yes to you. Yes to Zach. Yes to Bea and Bella. Yes to the long nights and the hard days and all the weird shit we'll probably fight about later. I'm in, all the way, for as long as you'll have me." My throat ached as it tightened. I lifted a hand to her cheek, swiping at the tears that had slipped free, and started mine. "Sienna," I said, trying not to sound like I was choking. "I used to think that love had to be complicated. I used to think it was dangerous, something you ran from or outgrew. And then you showed up and tore every goddamn rule apart. You ruined my peace⁠-" She laughed, wet and loud. "-hijacked my house, insulted my charcuterie orders, teased me mercilessly, and made me fall so stupidly in love with you I forgot how to be afraid." I rolled my lips between my teeth, letting myself breathe for just a second as I dropped my forehead to hers. "So, I promise," I went on, a little quieter, mostly just for her, "to never run. To never disappear. To let the kids tell everyone that their mom is cooler than me, even when they're wrong. I promise to fight for you, to show up for you, to let you insult me for as long as you want to, to let you threaten me with stupid Post-It notes and never tell the police." "Big of you," she murmured. I grinned. "I love you," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "And I'm never letting you go." The officiant hadn't even finished the sentence before she grabbed me by the lapels and had her mouth on mine - like she'd been waiting the whole damn day to do it. It wasn't formal. It wasn't traditional. But it was ours, and it was perfect. ---- The sea stretched out in every direction, quiet and infinite under the stars, the shoreline just a warm glow in the distance. The yacht cut through the water in silence, sleek and decadent - it was over the top, absurd, and exactly what she'd accused me of owning over a year ago. She'd disappeared into the closest bathroom the second she'd stepped on board, rifled through my bag, and come out dressless and barefoot in one of my white button-downs, murmuring something about her dress being uncomfortable and her breasts being sore. Now, Sienna leaned against the railing, her hair flowing in the breeze, relaxed in a way I hadn't seen since before the twins, before the bedrest - probably not since she'd fallen asleep on me on the way back from Massachusetts. The rings on her fingers caught the moonlight, yellow, gold, and perfect, and God, I'd won. "Can't believe I was right about your stupid yacht," she said, her gaze locked on the water reflecting the low-hanging moon. "So, gaudy." I grinned, crossing the deck toward her, my undone bow tie hanging loose around my neck. "You wanted to see it," I reminded her. "It's disgusting." "True." "So," she said, glancing back at me. "How many girls have you seduced on this floating palace?" "Honestly?" I smirked, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist, letting my lips fall just beside her ear. "None. I bought it to use whenever I wanted to take Zach around Europe. But you're welcome to be the first." She snorted, pushing back against me just enough to make my blood start to pool between my hip bones. "That sounds like a lie." "It's not. Swear on the girls' lives." She gasped exaggeratedly. "Matt," she laughed. "You can't just swear on their lives when you're so obviously lying. This is supposed to be the part of our wedding night where you ravish me, not where you risk the safety of our children with whatever tricksy, God is out there listening." I smirked, trailing my lips down her neck, breathing in the perfume that smelled so intensely familiar. "Not a lie, sweetheart," I murmured. "And besides, this is the part where I'm supposed to tell you what to do and you're supposed to follow orders without complaint, since you're my wife and I believe, technically, that means I own your soul." She cackled. "You wish." "It's a legally binding contract, Sienna." "You're insane." "It's my right," I teased, dragging my nose against that spot beneath her ear that made her breath catch every time. "You should probably start addressing me as 'sir' now⁠-" "Matt." My hand went flat against her stomach, pulling her entirely flush against my body. I popped open a button. "Yes, Mrs. Strathmore?" "You-ahh," she paused as my fingers drifted across bare skin beneath the shirt, "-you realize I'm never going to do what I'm told, right?" I hummed a chuckle against her skin, nipping at her earlobe. "Not even a little bit?" Her hand lifted, slid into my hair, and pulled. "Not even if you beg." I groaned, half laughing, half aching for her. "You should respect your elders," I teased. "What kind of example does that set for our kids, hmm? I'm a very fragile man of nearly fifty." She burst out laughing. "You're forty-eight, you psycho. I've seen your workout routine," she grinned, turning her head just enough to look at me. "You've got more core strength than the average twenty-year-old." "I could still throw out my back," I countered. "You are the most dramatic man I have ever⁠-" I twisted her slightly in my arms as I pressed my lips to hers, not quite sweet, not quite loving, but heated in every way she was igniting in me. I turned her more, twisting her body to mine, pinning her against the railing as I deepened it, my fingers sliding into her hair and sending little pins skittering onto the deck beneath us or into the water below. I kissed her like I wanted to ruin her, my teeth catching her lower lip just to hear that sharp little gasp she'd make. Her body arched into mine, her fingers twisting in my hair like she still thought she was in charge. She wasn't. But if she wanted to fight me for it, I'd let her. Her breath hitched as I pulled back just enough to smirk down at her. Her lips, swollen and pink, parted on a ragged exhale. "You're a hazard," I murmured against her lips, sliding a hand down to her bare thigh and hitching it around my hip. "All these fucking pins. You're lucky one didn't take my eye out." She scoffed, but it turned into a moan as I bit at her earlobe. "Maybe I wanted to maim you." "Liar." I hauled her up into my arms before she could protest, her other leg wrapping around me on instinct. She was light but warm, the heat of her already burning through my suit. "You like me fully functional." Her arms tightened around my neck as I carried her across the deck, the yacht swaying gently beneath us. The master suite was all dark wood and low light, the bed already turned down-planned, obviously, because I'd known damn well we'd end up here tonight. "This your grand seduction plan?" she asked, giggling as I dropped her onto the mattress, her hair fanning out around her wildly against the sheets. "Manhandling me like cargo?" I braced a knee between her thighs as I shrugged my jacket off, popped a few buttons of my dress shirt, and then leaned over her. "Sweetheart," I murmured, pushing her borrowed shirt up to her waist-of course she wasn't wearing anything beneath this, God fucking dammit-and higher, over her breasts, forcing her arms up to peel it off her inch by inch. "If I were treating you like cargo tonight, you'd be tied down." Her breath caught. I grinned. The sight of her sprawled out beneath me in nothing but the moonlight and the two lit sconces on the wall was enough to make my pulse roar in my ears. I dragged my fingers up her inner thigh, not quite reaching where she wanted me to, as the yacht swayed again. "You're overdressed," she muttered, her nails scraping the front of my half-open shirt in protest. "I know." I caught her wrist, pinning it to the pillow above her head. "And you talk too much." She let out a weak little noise when I leaned down, my lips brushing the curve of her breast, close, so close. I wanted to make her writhe, wanted to make her squirm, wanted to make her fucking beg for once. "Matt-" I chuckled against her skin, nipping at the underside of her breast, just hard enough to make her hips jerk up into me. "We've been at this long enough for you to know how this goes, Sienna." She whined, her hips rising again, testing me, always fucking testing me. I gripped her hip with my free hand, pushing her back down into the mattress. "I know," she hissed. "But I also know you hate losing." I dragged my tongue over her nipple, reveling in the curse that fell from her lips. "Then it's a good thing I never do." Her laugh was cut short when I finally sucked her into my mouth, her back arching off the bed in surrender. I kept her wrist locked tight in my grasp, but her other hand fisted the sheets as I took my time, slow and deliberate swipes of my tongue, the graze of my teeth, until she was twisting beneath me, her chest flushed, whimpered little sounds falling from her lips. "Tell me what you want," I murmured against her skin, nipping at her collarbone as I made my way back up to her mouth. "You know what I⁠-" I caught her mouth in another bruising kiss before pulling back just an inch. "Then ask me properly." Her eyes darkened, frustrated and needy, as I slid back down her body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her ribs, her hips, my grip on her wrist loosening entirely. The salt air clung to her skin, mingling with the scent of her as I settled between her thighs. Of course, she didn't heed my request. She ignored it like she was made for testing my patience. She gasped as I dragged my tongue up the expanse of her, slow and filthy, tasting the proof of just how much my touch affected her. "Still so fucking stubborn," I murmured against her, closing my lips around her. Her legs tensed around my head, her back arching. "Matt⁠-" "Mmm?" I flicked my tongue, relentless, drinking in every little twitch of her beneath me. "I swear to God if you stop⁠-" I laughed, low and rough against her, and did it again, slower this time, letting her feel every stroke before pulling back just enough for my breath to ghost across her skin. "You'll what?" Her fingers fisted in my hair, trying to push my mouth back to her. "I'll shove you overboard." "Try." I kissed her inner thigh before dragging my lips back to her center. "I dare you." She didn't. Just rocked against my mouth instead with a desperate little whimper that made my cock push painfully against my suit trousers. I could feel her trembling, her breath coming faster, her body tightening, but I knew her. This isn't how she wanted to fall apart. Right on cue, she pulled hard on my hair, yanking like she had a vendetta against me, pulling me back up to her mouth and crashing her lips to mine, tasting herself on my tongue. Her nails dug into my shoulders, harsh and needy, her hips rolling up against me and grinding shamelessly, all that defiance dissolving away. "Please," she whimpered against my mouth, biting down on my lower lip hard enough to sting. I groaned. Like I could ever fucking deny her when it wasn't medically necessary. I unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way, shrugging it from my shoulders and letting it fall onto the sheets. "Since you asked so nicely," I murmured, popping my belt open, and then my slacks, moving hastily until there was nothing left between us. I slid into her with one smooth thrust, watching every flicker of pleasure cross her face as she clenched around me. She moaned, her chin tipping up, her head digging into the sheets beneath her as I pushed her thighs further up above her ribs. "Finally," she moaned. I wasn't easy on her just because it was our wedding night. I set a brutal pace, my hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave bruises. The boat rocked beneath us, the rhythm only driving me deeper, harder. Her legs locked around my waist, pulling me closer, taking every bit that I gave her, moaning my name like I was somehow both her savior and her sinner. "Say it," I ground out, my voice raw, as I felt her body start to constrict again. She laughed, breathless, her nails raking down my back. "Say what?" "That I win." She arched into me, her breath hitching. "Fuck you," she grinned. I rolled my eyes, angling my hips just right for her, watching the way she shattered beneath me like the world was collapsing. I didn't stop, couldn't, dragged her through every second of it, chasing my own release as she gasped and cried beneath me, biting down on her hand to muffle another cry. I pulled it away from her. "Kids aren't here," I reminded her, panting. "Let me hear you." The earth-shattering moan she gave me in answer had me falling apart, buried so deep inside of her I swear I saw stars. I kissed her, a stuttered groan spilling into her mouth, my cock twitching as I let go inside of her. Still half-dazed, my kiss slowed, soft and still wanting, but she broke from it with a shaky breath. "Fine," she murmured, her brows creasing in the center. "You win." I laughed and pressed my lips to her chin, drinking in the way her eyelids fluttered. "Every time, sweetheart," I grinned, pressing my hand into hers, our fingers interlocking, the warmth of her wedding rings pressed against my palm. "Every time."