110
Ivan POV
Zander climbs back into bed, fresh sheets and all.
And I don't even hesitate—immediately, I burrow into his side. My body moves on instinct now. I can't help it.
I wrap my arms around him, nuzzle into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. His scent. His warmth. His everything.
He pulls me in tighter, arm wrapped firm around my waist. Like he can't stand even an inch of space between us.
I shift just slightly, enough to glance at my hand again—at the ring.
The green stone glimmers softly in the low cabin light, delicate and beautiful, catching the light in little flickers.
My heart swells all over again.
I run my thumb over it absentmindedly, fingers tracing the edges.
And then—curious.
"Why green?" I murmur, voice low against his chest. "Why not a diamond or... something more classic?"
There's a pause.
A beat of silence.
I feel his chest rise, then fall—his breath.
Then softly—almost like it embarrasses him—he says:
"It was the closest shade... to the color of your eyes."
...
I swear I almost squeak.
My face heats immediately.
Cheesy. So cheesy.
I bite my lip, fighting the ridiculous grin trying to spread across my face.
"What if I wanted the color of your eyes, hmm?" I say, voice muffled a little against his skin.
He hums, sounding amused.
"I don't think... a black diamond or obsidian ring would look... great," he says after a beat.
I gasp, dramatic. "And who are you to decide that? In fact, that's what I want on my wedding band."
He chuckles, deep in his chest, and I feel the vibrations under my cheek. My head shifts with the movement and I smile against him.
"I still don't think it would be very pretty," he says, teasing.
Is this man insane?
I love his eyes. Like staring into some deep black hole that pulls you in and doesn't let go. Mysterious, sharp—yet when he looks at me, I see everything. They're so expressive. Though... I'm probably the only person who can say that.
Maksim still swears I do some kind of witchcraft because I can tell when Zander's annoyed, or sulking, or amused—just by looking at him. Apparently he has a killer poker face in business.
Wouldn't know. Not with me.
I shift on the bed, wriggling a little until I manage to grab my phone from the nightstand. I flop back against his chest, practically sprawling on him, screen lighting up in my hand.
"Now... look at these and tell me they're not beautiful," I say, scrolling through images of black diamond wedding bands and flashing them at him triumphantly.
He huffs a laugh, half exasperated, half fond.
"I'm serious," I insist, poking his side.
Another chuckle, deeper this time.
"You really want that?" he asks, voice softer.
I glance up at him, smirking. "Mhm. They'd look perfect next to this." I wiggle my fingers, showing off his ring—the one that still makes my heart flutter when I look at it.
And for a moment... he just gazes at me.
Eyes dark. Intense. So full of warmth and something deeper that makes my heart skip.
"Don't look at me like that," I mumble.
"Like what?" he responds, amused, head tilting slightly.
"You know what I'm talking about," I say, stubborn, tearing my gaze away—pretending to focus back on my phone, though my ears are burning.
I don't get far.
His hand comes up, palm warm against my throat—not squeezing, just holding me there, thumb brushing gently along my jaw.
And then—he tilts my head back toward him.
Forces me to meet that gaze again.
And kisses me.
Slow. Deep. Full of meaning.
My phone slips from my fingers, forgotten, as my hands slide instinctively up into his hair, pulling him in closer.
He groans softly into my mouth, arm tightening around my waist, keeping me flush against him.
I melt completely.
It's ridiculous, really. How one kiss from this man can undo me so fast.
When he finally pulls back, just barely, lips hovering close, I'm breathless.
"Up for some more fun, my dear fiancée?" he murmurs, voice low, rich—already twisting us gently until he's hovering over me, caging me in with his arms.
I can feel the heat radiating off him. The way his eyes darken as they rake over me.
My heart skips. My breath catches.
"You already know my answer," I whisper back, eyes lidded, lips parting.
And that's all he needs.
He leans down, catching my mouth in another kiss—deeper, hungrier this time. Like the first kiss wasn't nearly enough. Like he can't stand to be apart from me for even a second longer.
I arch up into him, fingers curling in the sheets, and just like that—every thought, every lingering worry—fades into nothing.
It's just us.
The steady thrum of our hearts.
The heat between us.
And this overwhelming love I can't contain anymore.