It’s the first time I’m feeling her come. The first of many.

Kara’s jaw clenches; her head tips back. Those eyes are screwed shut, and her soft, desperate noises are music to my ears.

When Kara falls apart, something shifts deep inside my chest. Locks into place. She’s mine, and I’m hers. I already knew, of course, but now it’s done. It’s final.

I’ve been Kara’s for a long, long time.

“Perfect,” I mutter against her temple as she sags in my arms. So perfect.

Then I spill inside her, filling her up—and let every last doubt and fear wash away.

* * *

Three years later

The only warning I get is the hum of the elevator. The golden light begins to glow, racing through the floor numbers, and I lean back at my desk, steepling my fingers.

Only one person is brave enough to enter the penthouse of the Onasis Studios skyscraper without an invitation. Just like only one person makes my heart pound without trying.

We weren’t scheduled to meet until lunch, and I planned to go to her, but my wife is less of a stickler for planners and appointments these days. Well… outside of work, anyway.

And it’s been a long time since I was Kara’s employer.

I do miss those days. But what we have now is much, much better.

It takes the elevator less than two minutes to climb the whole building, the silver box racing up to the clouds. That’s two minutes to tug my tie straight; to drum my fingers on my desk.

Patience. Not my biggest virtue.

The doors hush open and the sight of her hits me like force field. It always does. Whether in her pajamas with no make-up, or in her heels and sleek dresses, my wife always short circuits my brain. Today, she’s in a royal blue wrap dress, her dark hair swept over one shoulder.

“Quiet morning?” My voice carries between the olive trees in their planters, and Kara’s steps are soft against the tiles. Since she started to show, she’s swapped out her heels for ballet flats.

Thank god. I was fending off nightmares about twisted ankles.

She shrugs, strolling closer. “I’m the head of Strategy. I can step out and clear my head if I want to.”

Fuck. Is that what she wants from me? A brainstorming session?

Or will she let my hungry mouth between those thighs?

“I brought you something.” Fuck, I hadn’t even noticed the bakery box she’s got balanced on one palm. Kara sets it on my desk, and I’m already grinning.

Muffins—I know before she lifts the lid. We’ve always been two steps ahead, reading each other’s minds, and muffins are our thing. Hey, there are worse mascots.

“I hope you don’t bring your new boss any baked goods.” I lift out the nearest one. It looks like salted caramel, and my stomach growls. Did I miss breakfast again?

Kara rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Hardly. And she’s been my boss for three years, Galen. That’s not new.” She leans her hip against the desk, but I’m already pushing my chair back and patting my thigh.