Night descended slowly as the guests began to leave the celebration. The garden lights still glowed, soft and romantic, but the world around them seemed to quiet. The music faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of their footsteps as they made their way toward the billionaire's private residence.
Upstairs in the grand mansion, their bridal suite had been adorned with rose petals and the flickering glow of candlelight. The walls felt warm with soft hues, and sheer white curtains swayed gently in the breeze from the balcony.
Celeste stood at the threshold, gazing into the room. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from the newness of it all, a life that was no longer hers alone.
Alistair stood behind her, his hands settling on her waist. His scent enveloped her, wrapping around her like an invisible embrace.
"Are you nervous?" he whispered.
Celeste gave a small, wordless nod.
Alistair turned her slowly, his gaze no longer arrogant or demanding. Only tender. Open. Entirely his.
"Celeste… You don't have to do this if you're not ready. I can wait. Even forever, I'd wait."
Celeste searched his eyes. Then shook her head.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said softly. "I've just never fully trusted anyone before. But strangely… you make me want to try."
Alistair smiled. "Then let me prove you can trust me. Not as a billionaire, not as the man standing before you as your husband… but simply as a man who loves you—completely."
He guided her into the room.
Slowly, Alistair cupped Celeste's face, then bent to press a kiss to her forehead. Long. Deep. As if sealing an irrevocable promise.
"May I start by calling you… darling?" he murmured.
Celeste smiled faintly. "Now that I'm your wife, it would be strange if you called me formally."
"Then starting tonight… you're not just Celeste Vaughn. You're everything to me."
Alistair's hands brushed her shoulders, easing the white satin gown from her frame. His movements were patient, unhurried, like someone unwrapping a treasured book.
His hands did not rush. He honored every second they shared.
And Celeste… closed her eyes. Felt.
Their breaths mingled in the quiet of the night. No words could capture the feeling blooming from the loneliness they had both conquered.
Until finally—in that place, at that moment—there was no more *you* and *I*.
Only *us*.
Celeste sat at the edge of the bed, her back straight, but her fingers resting in her lap trembled faintly. Candlelight danced across her skin, casting warm shadows around her. She was no longer the same girl who had first met Alistair—now, she was a woman who had chosen to trust him with her heart.
Alistair approached slowly, without haste. He sat beside Celeste, then took her small hand in his.
"You're beautiful tonight…" he whispered, voice rough, "But more than that, you're brave… and that's why I fell in love with you."
Celeste lifted her face, meeting his darkened yet gleaming eyes. "You always speak as if I'm something extraordinary."
"You *are* extraordinary, Celeste." Alistair's fingers traced her jaw, then brushed her cheek. "I don't know how the world was kind enough to bring you to me… but I swear, I'll protect you."
He leaned in, this time pressing his lips first to her cheek—soft, reverent. Then to her chin. And finally, to her lips.
The kiss was light at first, like a request. But when Celeste responded, Alistair's body tensed—surprised, elated, filled with a deep yet restrained hunger. He didn't want to frighten her. He only wanted to be a safe harbor for a heart that had been alone for too long.
"Darling…" he murmured between kisses, "If only you knew how much I want you—in the most sacred, gentle way possible…"
"Alistair…" Celeste closed her eyes, her breath trembling. "I'm yours. Wholly."
Those words struck Alistair's chest like a tender storm. He inhaled deeply, then bowed his head, resting his forehead against Celeste's.
"Then… let me touch you as if you were the only reason I was born into this world."
Clothes fell away in sacred silence. There was no rush, no ego. Only touch after touch, kisses that deepened, and promises spoken through skin and breath.
His hands explored the curve of her back, his lips worshiping every inch of exposed skin with devotion. He treated her like a queen, like a first love, like the woman he would adore even if time stopped moving.
And when they finally became one, it was not just their bodies that entwined—their souls clung together, wrapping the night in a small eternity that belonged only to them.