Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 184

Chapter 184

The balcony of our room looked like something out of a dream. Christian had led me there with his hands covering my eyes, a playful secret in his voice, and when he finally whispered, “You can open them now,” I felt my breath catch.

Candles of every size flickered softly, casting golden light that shimmered across the table set with our finest china. The scent of fresh roses mingled with the warm sweetness of vanilla candles, wrapping everything in a glow so tender it made my heart race before I even saw it all.

My eyes filled instantly with tears. It wasn’t just a romantic dinner. It was everything it stood for: survival, healing, love rediscovered after the storm. It was the quiet celebration of everything we’d been through and the promise of everything that was still to come.

“Tomorrow we’re bringing our son home,” Christian said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Tomorrow, our family will finally be complete,” I whispered, turning into his arms to kiss him.

The evening passed in perfect intimacy. Christian had chosen one of the Kensington reserve wines. It was a deep, rich vintage that carried with it the weight of family history and the sweetness of a new beginning. We talked about everything and nothing, our voices hushed as though any louder sound might break the fragile magic of the night.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe we made it here,” I said, brushing my fingers over his. “Feels like yesterday I mistook you for a gigolo.”

Christian laughed, that deep, velvety sound that always made my stomach tighten. “And I thought I’d met the craziest woman in Solara,” he teased, tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand. “Never imagined she’d turn out to be the love of my life.”

Later, we stayed outside, wrapped in each other as we watched the vineyards glow under the moonlight. His arms were around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. The stars above the Highridge Valley glittered like scattered diamonds against black velvet.

“You know,” I said, pretending to sound casual though my heart raced, ‘I checked the calendar. Today officially marks the end of the recovery period.”

I felt his body go still behind me, his hands tightening gently at my waist. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough, that tone I knew so well. “I don’t want you to feel pressured…”

I turned in his arms, placed my palms against his chest, and met his gaze-those blue eyes that always saw straight through me. “I’m completely sure,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I need you, Christian. I need us again.”

The kiss that followed was nothing like the careful, restrained ones we’d shared these past months. It was raw and urgent, born from months of holding back, every touch sparking with a need too long denied. His hands found my face, his fingers tangling in my hair as his mouth claimed mine with a hunger that made me tremble.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against my lips, the reverence in his voice making my heart ache.

He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me inside. The soft candlelight spilling through the open doors bathed the room in gold, turning our space into something sacred. When he laid me gently on the bed, his eyes never left mine-as though he were memorizing every detail, committing the moment to memory.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, tracing the outline of my face with a tenderness that stole my breath. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

His words broke something open inside me-something deep, tender, and fierce all at once. What we shared that night wasn’t just passion; it was a reclaiming. It was the quiet promise that we’d survived the darkness and were finally stepping back into the light, together.

His lips found mine again. My hands went to the buttons of his shirt, my fingers trembling slightly with the urgency to feel his skin against mine.

“Slow down, baby,” he murmured against my lips, his hands covering mine. “We’ve got all night. I want to savor every second.”

His fingers replaced mine, undoing each button with a deliberate slowness that made me sigh with anticipation. When he finally opened his shirt, I couldn’t help but run my hands across his chest, feeling his muscles tighten under my touch.

Christian leaned over me, his lips tracing a burning path along my neck. Every kiss sent waves of heat through my body. His hands found the zipper of my dress, lowering it with a kind of reverence that made me tremble.

When the fabric finally slipped from my shoulders, I felt a sweet mix of vulnerability and feminine power, something only he could draw out of me. His eyes roamed over me as if he were seeing a masterpiece for the very first time.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his hands following soft trails down my arms, over my shoulders, slowly moving until they reached the curve of my waist.

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