I whimper.
His mouth presses just beneath my ear, and I swear I can feel the shape of his smile as he repeats it, quieter this time. “Elias. Nathaniel.Kade.”
“Stop,” I gasp, flushing hot all over, every nerve in my body lighting up like I haven’t spent the last three nights screaming that name until my voice cracked.
“Why?” he asks, all fucking innocence, slipping another piece of fruit between my lips while his hand coasts across my thigh. “You married me. Youbrandedyourself. I’m just reminding you what that makes you now.”
“I know what it makes me,” I mutter, trying to chew without moaning. “It makes me stupid.”
“Mmm,” he hums. “No. It makes youmine.”
His mouth is at my collarbone now, kissing slow, wet trails beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him. His hand slides higher on my thigh, warm and possessive, fingers toying with the edge of my shorts while his other hand brings another bite of peach to my lips like I’m going to be able to focus on food when he’ssaying my full fucking name like a kink.
And goddamn it—I canfeelmyself blushing.
“Baby,” he whispers, nipping just above my collar. “You’reburning up.You getting shy on me?”
I glare. “Shut up.”
“Why?” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “You weren’t shy screaming ‘Kade, fuck—’ two nights ago while thetreesblushed for you.”
“Damian.”
“Elias.”
He kisses me again.
I’m going to kill him, or climb him. Probably both.
I groan and shove at his chest—not hard enough to move him, just enough to pretend I’ve got an ounce of control left. His lips are still at my throat, still branding every syllable of my name into my skin like he invented it. My body’s hot. My cheeks areflaming.And he’s smirking so hard I could slap him with the croissant and he’dthankme.
“Next time we get married,” I huff, “you’retakingmyname.” It comes out sharp, petty, triumphant—except my voice cracks halfway through it, and I know,I know,the second the words leave my mouth that I’ve just lost the war.
Damian leans back, slow and smug, like a king granting his battlefield a moment to breathe before delivering the final, devastating blow. “That so, pup?”
His voice drops an octave and the smirk that curves across his mouth is wicked in that lazy, dangerous way that makes my stomach flip. He looks like he wants to frame the sentence, hang it over our bed, and remind me of it every morning for the rest of my life.
I cross my arms. “Yes. So enjoy it while it lasts, Kade. I’m reclaiming my brand.”
He raises an eyebrow, still holding a piece of mango between his fingers like he’s weighing his options—feeding it to me or sticking it somewhere I’ll absolutely regret later. “You’d rather beElias Merceragain?” he asks, calm and deadly.
I blink, the air punching out of my lungs all at once. Fuck. Shit. No—that’s not what I meant, not even close. I don’t get the chance to fix it. He leans in again, slow and predatory, mouth grazing mine without quite kissing, hovering just close enough to burn.
“Thought so,” he murmurs, and the way he says it tells me he already owns the answer.
“Ihateyou.”
“Youlovemy name.”
I glare. “You’re imagining things.”
He kisses me—just once, a promise more than an act—and when he pulls back his voice is low and steady as he murmurs, “Say it.”
“No.”
His fingers slide under the waistband of my shorts. “Say it, pup.”
“…Itolerateit.”
