TAMING THE CEO'S HEART ☺️

"Yours Till The Last Breath".

Chapter 13: Yours Till The Last Breath

ZEPHYR

I used to control everything—meetings, contracts, people.

Now, I ask her what color shirt I should wear to dinner.

And you know what? I like it.

She’d roll her eyes and say I’m whipped. Maybe I am. But I’m willingly tethered to her—my Little Dove—because nothing in my empire ever brought me peace the way she does.

I never thought I’d be the kind of man who’d skip a board meeting just to take a girl on a spontaneous beach date. Yet there I was, cancelling a lunch with a Saudi investor because Amara said she missed the ocean.

Her joy became my currency. Her smile? My biggest dividend.

I picked her up with the top down, a picnic basket in the trunk, and one goal in mind—to make her laugh.

And when she did?

God. I’d sell my company a hundred times just to hear that sound.

At the beach, she wore my hoodie over her bikini, and we raced across the sand like teenagers. I watched her chase seagulls and collect shells. I took photos. Hundreds. She never noticed.

And at night, I held her beneath a blanket of stars.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she whispered.

“I’d give you the moon if it would fit in the basket,” I replied.

She kissed me like I was the only man on the planet. And in that moment, I hoped I was.

But nothing compared to that night at the cinema.

She wanted to see a romance film. I rented the entire damn theatre.

She laughed when she saw it was just the two of us. “Seriously? You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you.”

We sat in the center row. Her legs draped over mine, her head on my shoulder. I barely watched the movie.

How could I, when her fingers were tracing the lines of my jaw, her breath tickling my neck?

Halfway through, she kissed me. Not a polite, chaste kiss. A slow, deep kiss. Her lips opened under mine like a sigh, like she was inviting me to drown.

And I did. Happily.

We forgot about the film. My hands slid beneath her cardigan, fingers teasing the skin of her waist. Her soft moan echoed off the theatre walls.

“You really do love me,” she whispered between kisses.

“With every ruined plan, yes.”

“With every missed meeting?”

“With every second I’m not in your arms,” I growled, kissing her harder.

She laughed. “You’re so gone for me, Zeph.”

I didn’t deny it.

Because she was right.

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AMARA

I used to think powerful men like Zephyr Cain didn’t bend. Didn’t kneel.

But mine? He folds like origami when I pout.

This morning, I complained that he hadn’t washed my mug. By the time I finished brushing my hair, he had the whole damn kitchen sparkling.

Then he took me to the bookstore I’d been wanting to visit—even though he hates public places without security—and helped me carry twenty pounds of novels like it was nothing.

“My arms are going numb,” he teased, “but if carrying your smutty romance books makes you happy, I’ll carry a thousand.”

Who is this man?

He’s the one who sends me lunch when I forget to eat.

The one who cuddles me like a teddy bear at night—even when I’m sweaty.

The one who cries watching sad dog movies, then denies it fiercely.

He’s also the man who once ruled empires with a single glare. Now? He waits for me to finish curling my hair before we leave the house. The Zephyr I met months ago would’ve never.

But the Zephyr I love now?

He lets me steal the covers and take over his closet.

He kisses my forehead every time I get anxious.

He lights candles in the bathroom before drawing me a bath.

He’s become the man I didn’t even know I needed.

On Friday, he planned a surprise rooftop dinner. Fairy lights twinkled overhead. There was wine, music, and a private chef. I walked in and gasped, and he just stared at me like I was the one that hung the stars.

“You always go over the top,” I whispered.

“I’m trying to impress the girl who tamed me.”

I giggled. “You were un-tamable, huh?”

He stepped closer, cupping my face. “Until you.”

We danced under the night sky, my cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat a rhythm that matched my own.

Then later, when he undressed me in the soft candlelight, his touch was reverent.

“You’re everything,” he murmured as he kissed down my belly. “Everything I didn’t know I was missing.”

The s*x wasn’t rushed. It was slow, consuming—every thrust a promise, every kiss a worship.

And afterward, we lay in a tangled mess of sheets and breathless silence.

“I think I’m addicted to you,” he said, voice husky, fingertips brushing my hip.

“You’re not the only one.”

We stayed like that for hours, wrapped around each other like the world didn’t exist. Because in that moment, it didn’t. Only us.

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ZEPHYR

Today, she hummed while brushing her hair, and I stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist.

“Everything’s going so well,” she whispered.

I nuzzled her neck. “That’s because we’re finally allowed to breathe.”

She turned in my arms. “I have something to tell you.”

I studied her face—nervous, glowing, excited. My pulse quickened.

“What is it?”

She took my hand and pressed it low against her belly.

“I’m late, Zeph. Like… really late.”

The world shifted.

Not in fear—but in awe.

“You think…?”

She nodded slowly, eyes glassy.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

All I could do was hold her. And know—deep in my soul—that everything was about to change.

Again.

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