We spent three days at my soon to be in-laws, where they spent the entire first day grilling me about my life, job, and family. I took it all because Marina is worth every ounce of discomfort. Once they gave me the seal of approval, they were friendlier, and I was able to help her dad, Dennis, with some chores and repairs around the house. Her mother makes a mean apple pie that she bakes from scratch and sent four home with us.

Marina seems more at ease with me around her parents now than that first morning I arrived. I know I have to earn her trust back. We also need to talk about what she told me. Every time I’ve tried to bring the subject up, she deflects and talks about something else. I think she’s afraid the more I learn, the easier it’ll be for me to leave.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. There isn’t anything in the world that could convince me to leave her. This overwhelming craving and love I feel for her aren’t going away. In fact, they intensify the more I learn about her. How she likes to dance around to music while cleaning. She hums in the shower. Her fridge is divided into food groups. She can’t stand it when her food touches on her plate, so she puts knives in between each dish to avoid it.

They’re endearing quirks that make me smile, and I hope I get to find out more. I know I drive her crazy because I just lay my toothbrush and paste on the counter instead of putting them in a cup. She hates that I toss my keys on the counter when I come home from work instead of having some sort of dish or hanger for them. She laughed when she saw the mess my closet is and proceeded to color code my dress shirts. My pants are all black, and that frustrates her. She thinks I need more color in my life.

She has enough of that for the both of us.

When Marina sets her mind to something, she doesn’t stop until it’s finished. So now that she’s finally done reorganizing my house—to which I gave her free rein and thoroughly enjoyed watching her—she’s in the kitchen making dinner and still organizing while I plan the best way to convince her to move in with me.

Without realizing it, she’s arranged everything so that it is co-habitable for two people and not just myself. Her clothes will have space in one side of my closet, and there’s extra room in the dresser. The bathroom is sparse to begin with, so her girly stuff won’t be a problem. I have empty shelves for days to hold all of her students’ artwork that she loves to display. My sofa set is black, so her colorful throw pillows will fit right on in.

All I need is for her to agree.

Walking up behind her as she finishes hanging our coats in the entryway closet, I wrap my arms around her waist. Loving the way she molds into my body. Being shorter than me, her head nestles right into the crook of my neck while her lower back cradles my always hard-around-her cock. She sighs as I pull her away and over to the sofa just a few feet behind us.

Sitting down, I position her so she straddles my lap, her tiny skirt lifting to show me a flash of her light pink panties. I’m momentarily distracted as she pushes the fabric back down.

“What are you doing, Arsen Daniels?” Her voice is amused.

“Hoping,” I say, “praying”—I look up to her eyes—“you’ll move in with me.” Her entire frame freezes at my words. A look of shock encases her face.

“It’s too soon.”

“Says who?”

“Well, I don’t know. But it’s only been two weeks.”

“Nine and half days, actually.” I point this out, and she fights to hide her laughter.

“Yes.” Her answer throws me off guard. I half expected a fight.

“Yes?” She nods vigorously. “Christ, if I knew it was going to be that easy, I’d have gone for broke and asked you to marry me.” She slaps my chest lightly as though I’m kidding. I’m not.

“Are you sure, though, Arsen? That’s a huge step.”

“Sweet cheeks, I’m thirty-five years old. I know what I want. And what I want is you.”

“I want you, too,” she whispers.

“Good girl,” I praise as I pull her head down for a kiss that quickly burns out of control. Clothes fly, moans are the only sound in the room as I lay her body back on the couch and kiss my way from her lips down to her chest then stomach, murmuring, “One day, we’re going to have a baby.” My eyes meet her sad ones. “Whether from your body and my seed or not, we’ll have babies.” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes as happiness lights them.

“I love you, Arsen,” she says, her hands reaching down to play with my hair.

“I love you more, Marina. You’re the perfect package for what I never knew I wanted in a woman.”

She nods at my words. Leaning forward, she trails a finger down my cheek and whispers, “Please, Arsen, love me.”

“With fucking pleasure.”

* * *

My eyes are closed as Arsen loves me so thoroughly that I can barely breathe from the pleasure. His words of love are reassuring but feeling his love is much more magnificent. The reverence in each kiss, the way he cherishes me with each touch. I’m left in sweet agony.

“Arsen, please,” I beg again. He’s spent so much time between my legs that just his breath produces an ache deep within me.

“You beg so nicely.” He grins as he finally crawls up my limp body.

“You make it hard not to.”

“Good girl.” I swear he says it now just to turn me compliant. The words travel down to my soul and rush through my heart. Even hearing him say I love you, doesn’t provide me the same rush as his praise.

“I love when you say that,” I moan as he pushes his hardness into me. I’m still tight, he’s still large, but we work. We get to savor the incredible feeling of being so connected.

“I know,” he groans into my ear. “I can feel it in the way your pussy pulses around my cock. I can feel how wet you get for me. The way your eyes glow with warmth.” He trails kisses up my neck as his hips move in a slow motion. “I can feel it in the pleasure that vibrates through your body as I move my hands along your flesh and up your body.” He bites the pulse on my neck, making me gasp. “I know you, Marina Parks, and I know that you’re my good girl.”

“I am,” I gasp as his thrusting picks up speed, and he threads one hand through my hair while the other puts pressure in the small of my back. Arching me into each pump of his hips.

“Yeah, you are,” he groans, and we’re both lost in our sweet symphony of lovemaking.

Real and true loving.

Arsen Daniels is my love. All the mysterious, heart-pounding, consuming love I’ve never felt before.

He’s it.

He is my everything.