Chapter Five
Lily
My life had taken a dramatic turn these past couple of weeks. The workouts at VitalityFit, my sessions with Damian—all of it had boosted my confidence in ways I never imagined. My boss at Crestwood Real Estate actually patted me on the back for closing a few key deals. Instead of worrying every minute about losing my job, I was starting to believe in my own competence. I wasn’t waking up in cold sweats anymore. Instead, I woke with a tingle of excitement, a sense of possibility. My grandmother was right—which deep down I’d always known—new beginnings were everywhere if you just opened your eyes.
Apparently, this shift hadn’t gone unnoticed. Maya ambushed me at the office break room, arms folded and a playful smirk on her face. “Okay, spill, Ms. Sunshine. What’s your secret? You’ve been practically glowing since you started these training sessions. I want in.”
I blinked. “You? At VitalityFit?”
Maya shrugged. “Why not? I’m tired of being the one behind the desk, watching you breeze in with a new burst of energy. You’re making me look lazy.” She sighed dramatically, then grinned. “Seriously, though—if this fitness thing works for you, maybe it’ll work for me too.”
For a second, my heart skipped. My “secret,” of course, was more than just standard exercise. I’d developed an insane crush on my demonically gorgeous trainer. Though I’d never say that out loud, the thought alone sent a flush to my cheeks.
“Sure,” I said lightly, trying not to reveal the flutter in my stomach. “I can help you schedule a consultation. Maybe you’ll find your own Damian.”
Maya wagged a finger. “Don’t you hog all the hot guys. Actually, I’d prefer a female trainer anyway—someone who gets that I’m not looking to star on an infomercial.”
I laughed. “Deal. Let’s do it, then. I’ll meet you at the gym after work.”
Late afternoon saw us both rushing from the office to VitalityFit. Maya clutched her workout bag, tossing me pointed looks every few minutes. I suspected she wanted more juicy details about what was going on between me and my trainer, but she held off—for now.
The lobby was abuzz with the usual after-work crowd, but I spotted a desk worker guiding Maya toward intake forms. My stomach flipped at the prospect of seeing Damian—especially knowing we’d scheduled a “massage” after my session. That word alone made my pulse jump. We’d been flirting shamelessly about it over text, and the day had finally arrived.
Maya waved me over. “Hey, Lily—meet my new trainer!” She nodded toward a tall, athletic woman with braided hair and a confident smile.
“I’m Tasha,” the woman said, shaking my hand. “You must be Lily. Heard you’ve been getting results with Damian.”
I tried not to blush. “Yeah, something like that. Good luck with Maya—she can be a handful.”
Maya elbowed me. “Says the woman who’s practically glowing. Watch out, Tasha—once she sets her mind to something, she’s all in. Oh, and Lily,” she added in a lower tone, “I want details later.”
Before I could respond, a familiar presence swept up behind me, sending heat through my chest. Damian rested a light hand on my shoulder, and I turned to introduce him.
“Damian, this is my friend and our office manager extraordinaire at Crestwood, Maya Lopez,” I said, unable to keep the smile from my voice. “Maya, here’s the legendary trainer I mentioned.”
Damian’s gaze flicked warmly over Maya before returning to me. “Nice to meet you,” he said politely, offering her a firm handshake.
“Likewise,” Maya replied, arching a teasing brow at me before addressing him. “She’s been talking up these workouts—guess I’ll see what all the fuss is about.”
We shared a quick laugh, then Tasha led Maya off to the free weight area. As if on cue, Damian turned his full attention my way, that slow, knowing grin sending a pleasant shiver along my spine.
“All set?” he asked quietly, his voice low.
I nodded, trying not to imagine how this evening would end, even though I’d been doing just that practically every night since blocking out my calendar. “Definitely.”
Heart pounding, I followed him across the gym floor, visions of what might happen later dancing in my head. The session that followed felt supercharged with anticipation. Damian’s touch lingered a little more than usual when he adjusted my form. The brush of his fingers along my waist and the pressure of his palm between my shoulder blades sent sparks through my body. My mind kept straying to the many fantasies I’d spun late at night—the same ones that compelled me to take care of business the second I got home. I tried to concentrate on the exercises, but I knew the real reason my face was flushed.
From across the gym, Maya shot me a conspiratorial grin as she stretched her arms overhead, as if to say, I know something’s up . I gave her a small wave and then turned my full attention back to Damian. The look in his eyes suggested he was equally restless, and I sensed we were both counting the minutes until closing time.
By the time the overhead lights began to dim and the last clients filed out, my heart was in my throat. I caught a glimpse of Maya departing the weight room with Tasha. She gave me one last playful wink before disappearing in the direction of the women’s locker room. Within minutes, the entire building seemed hushed—except for the accelerated thump of my pulse.
Damian approached, gaze flicking over my face, then down my body. “Ready?” he asked softly.
His voice held a possessive note I hadn’t heard before, and it sent warmth racing through my core. I swallowed. “More than ready.”
He led me down a quiet hallway toward a private room I’d never seen before. It was smaller than the main training rooms, lit by a soft, muted glow. At its center stood a padded massage table, fresh linens folded neatly on top. My skin prickled with nerves and excitement. Yes.
Damian shut the door behind us, turning the lock with a subtle click that sent a rush of electricity through me. “You can get comfortable,” he said, voice low. “I’ll grab the oil.”
I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. When he stepped out, I began shedding my clothes—every stitch. My bra and panties landed on a nearby chair. Heat rose in my cheeks as I crawled under the crisp sheets face down, naked as the day I was born. This was actually happening. Oh God, please let it be happening.
The sound of approaching footsteps followed by a soft knock on the door alerted me to his return.
“All set?” he called, opening the door anyway.
“Yes,” I squeaked.
“Let me take care of you, Lily,” he said, voice low, before sliding the sheet down, baring my back and buttocks to the cool air and drizzling oil along my spine.
At first, his touch was purely therapeutic—skilled hands pressing into my muscles, coaxing away tension. I sighed, letting the stress melt from my body. But each glide of his palms left a trail of heat in its wake, my senses buzzing. The friction built with every stroke.
I let out a soft moan. “Damian,” I breathed.
His responding chuckle vibrated against my ear. “Feel good?”
I nodded, unable to form real words. The man kneading my muscles was no ordinary masseur; he was my personal trainer, someone who knew my body's capabilities and limits, who pushed me to achieve them during every grueling session.
"Relax," he murmured, his voice a deep timbre that vibrated through my frame, sending ripples of something far more dangerous than mere relaxation coursing through my veins. His touch lingered, awakening every nerve ending in my skin.
His fingers dipped lower, pressing into the small of my back before sliding over the curve of my hips. He feathered his touch across my thighs, each stroke deliberate and full of a promise that made my breath stutter. My hips involuntarily lifted toward his hands, seeking more of that intoxicating pressure. The only sound in the room was my shallow, uneven breaths, echoing the erratic thrumming of my heart.
The scent of the oil he used—a heady mix of sandalwood and lavender—filled the air, mingling with the deeper musk of our bodies. It was an aphrodisiac, lulling me into a haze of desire, where only his touch, his presence mattered.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath hot against the nape of my neck, and even that simple question seemed laden with a sensual weight.
"More than okay," I managed to gasp out, as his hands ventured closer to the edge of the sheet, teasing the boundary between professional and decidedly not.
With a boldness spurred by the aching need within me, I shifted, allowing the fabric to slip enough to reveal the full crest of my buttocks. Damina’s hands stilled momentarily, and then, as if accepting an unspoken invitation, they resumed their exploration, now freed from any pretense of professionalism.
Every glide of his palms sent shivers of anticipation down my spine, pooling a liquid fire low in my belly. Tension coiled tighter within me, wound up by his expert touch until I was nothing but a quivering mass of need beneath him.
"Please," I breathed out, unable to form any other words, my plea clear in the hitch of my hips and the desperate arch of my back.
He didn't need any further encouragement. The veil of restraint shattered, and his hands claimed me with a possessiveness that matched the wild drumming of my pulse. He smoothed over my skin, spreading the oil like an artist priming his canvas, before delving into the molten core of my desire.
"God, yes," I cried out as he found the center of my pleasure, coaxing a rhythm from my body as I spiraled, and the world narrowed to the point of sweet, unbearable friction that promised release from the exquisite torment he inflicted.
"Let go," he urged, and it was all the permission I needed to shatter into a thousand brilliant pieces, my climax washing over me in waves that left me gasping, spent, and utterly his. The sensation was overwhelming, yet I craved more—more of him, more of this consuming blaze he set alight within me.
“More, please,” I whispered, my voice barely a thread of sound amid the charged silence of the room.
His breath ghosted over the delicate skin of my neck, sending tingles cascading down my spine before his mouth found my shoulder in a soft bite that melted into a kiss, sending sparks skittering down my spine.
Like a silent command, I turned under his guiding hands, letting the sheet slip entirely from my body. His gaze slid over my exposed form, and for a moment, I reveled in the pure admiration reflecting in his dark eyes—like I was something precious he’d waited to claim.
I reached for him, pulling him into a desperate kiss that told him without words how badly I wanted him. Our tongues tangled in a feverish exchange, his taste flooding my senses.
He murmured something unintelligible against my lips, and I tugged his shirt over his head, revealing the muscled torso I’d admired countless times, though never quite like this—up close, personal, and charged with carnal intent.
Heart hammering, I reached lower, pushing at his pants. A thrill of anticipation roared through me when I freed him from the last scrap of fabric. The sight of his erection made my belly tighten, a wave of longing rolling through me so strong it nearly stole my breath.
Our gazes locked. His eyes brimmed with an otherworldly intensity that both frightened and enthralled me, as if he were more than just a man—some fiercely sensual creature who’d slipped into human guise to seduce and ensnare me. And I wanted it just as much as he did.
Damian hovered above me, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Every nerve in my body sang for him. His strong hands slid beneath my thighs, positioning me precisely where he wanted me, and I let out a shaky moan when the tip of his cock brushed against my slick heat.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, voice rough with desire. His lips crashed onto mine again, devouring my gasp as he pressed forward, sinking into me with a slow, deliberate thrust. The stretch burned in the most exquisite way, my body clenching around him, welcoming the invasion with unbridled hunger.
A gasp broke from me at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so perfectly. The room shrank— we were flesh to flesh, heartbeat to heartbeat. Every roll of his hips sent a bolt of pleasure through me, a mounting tension that echoed the frantic pounding of my pulse.
I clutched at his rock-hard shoulders, nails biting into his skin, urging him deeper, faster. Our bodies moved in a primal rhythm, the slick sound of our joining mingling with our ragged breathing. Each thrust built an aching pressure low in my belly, a need that clamored for release.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, arching my back as he angled his hips to graze a spot inside me that caused fireworks to burst behind my eyelids. Ecstasy coiled within me, ready to snap. My moans grew louder, unashamed, and raw.
He growled my name, his tempo increasing. The friction, the heat, the pure euphoria of it all consumed my thoughts. My climax hovered just out of reach, taunting me until a final, powerful thrust launched me over the edge. I shattered, a rush of pleasure exploding through my center, wracking my body with wave after wave of bliss that left me trembling and breathless.
He followed moments later, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he found his own release. Warmth flooded me, his body shuddering against mine, heartbeats thundering in tandem.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke, lost in the echo of our shared ecstasy. I clung to him, my breath still ragged, my body boneless from pleasure. Eventually, he eased out of me, collapsing at my side. We lay there in a tangle of limbs and cooling sweat, the oil on our skin still fragrant with sandalwood and lavender, now mingling with the musk of our sex.
I turned my head, meeting his gaze. Something in his eyes made my stomach flutter—a flicker of tenderness, yes, but also a deep, primal power. I couldn’t make sense of it; I only knew I wanted him…again and again.
He brushed a thumb across my parted lips, a small, reverent smile curving his mouth. “You okay?” he asked softly.
My chest still heaved, lungs searching for oxygen in the heavy air. “More than okay,” I whispered, voice hoarse.
A laugh broke from him—low and warm, laced with satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then slid his hand to cradle the nape of my neck. For a moment, I considered pressing him for answers—demanding to know who (or what) he truly was. But all the words got lost in the glow of aftershocks rippling through me.
I exhaled, letting my head loll back. I’ve just given myself to a man who feels almost inhuman, I thought, and I’m not afraid . If anything, I was exhilarated, breathless, and utterly consumed by him.
We lay there, hearts slowing to a steady beat, and I knew one truth with absolute certainty: I was in way over my head, but I had no intention of detaching myself from this man. He might be a beast in disguise, like some sort of paranormal hero straight out of my favorite romance novels, but at that moment, reality and fantasy blurred into one perfect moment of bliss.
A tingle of caution warned me that normal life wasn’t this intense, that no ordinary human should radiate such raw magnetism. Yet I found myself clinging to him all the same, willing to risk everything if it meant having him. Because maybe the impossible really could be true if I was only willing to believe.