Chapter 19
LYRA
The days slip past slow and unhurried. I’ve stopped checking the time altogether.
I haven’t touched my phone in days, and I haven’t missed it at all.
Out here, there’s no schedule, no deadlines, no stress whatsoever.
Apart from checking in with Becca via email to tell her I’m safe and I’ll be home soon, I haven’t had any contact with the outside world. And it’s been surprisingly wonderful.
Damien and I sleep in late, and when we wake, it’s to the sound of the ocean or the rustle of palm leaves brushing the windows.
Some mornings, he pulls me into him before I can even speak, kissing my shoulder or my throat, as if he can’t wake up until he’s tasted my skin.
Other mornings, we just lie there tangled in the sheets, holding each other.
He makes me feel safe and seen, which makes the secret I’m holding feel even heavier.
I still haven’t said anything about the baby. Every time I try, the words catch in my throat. I tell myself it’s not the right moment, that I’ll do it later. Later never comes.
Truthfully, I’m afraid. If I tell him, he’ll probably shut down. He’ll pull away with that cool, unreadable expression he wears when something displeases him. He’ll look at me and see only a problem that needs to be solved.
With his money, it would be easy for him to write me off for good.
He could buy me a house somewhere far away and tell me never to contact him again.
He could give me a golden parachute and disappear from my life as if he never existed.
Hell, he could leave me alone on this island in a stunning villa with a staff at my beck and call.
But I’d lose him.
So I keep my mouth shut.
Instead, I let myself fall into the fantasy.
I swim in the sea while he watches from the shore, arms folded, mouth curved in that rare smile that makes my heart clench.
We eat fruit so fresh it tastes unreal, drink lemonade by the pool, and fall asleep to the sound of the ocean through open windows.
He touches me constantly, his hand always finding mine, or his fingers running absentmindedly down my back or along my arms.
I want to be his escape, not his burden.
And that’s what this place is for us. An escape.
Here, there’s no such thing as the Bratva.
In fact, we’re so removed from reality, I start to wonder if any of that is even true.
I’ve never seen him do anything illegal, not directly.
He’s gentle with me, and so kind. Other than that first day at the office, with the men with guns, and the brutal way he handled Rick, I haven’t actually seen anything that proves what Becca told me.
Besides, Rick deserved it.
When I’m in Damien’s arms, the world narrows to just the two of us, to his breath on my neck, his hand sliding along my hip, the steady thud of his heart beneath my cheek. It’s easy to pretend there’s no danger here. And if there’s no danger here, maybe none exists at all.
Tonight, we walk the beach after dinner, our fingers laced together, toes sinking into the cool sand. The sky is lavender and navy, the last hints of sunset painting the horizon. He’s been quiet, but it’s been a comfortable silence. We don’t need constant chatter to feel close to one another.
“I’ve only been here once,” he says, his voice low.
I glance at him, finding that hard to believe. “Really?”
He nods, eyes on the sea. “I bought this place to disappear. No calls. No meetings. No bullshit. Just the ocean and the silence. But before I met you, I could never really force myself to leave the world behind even for a few days.”
I squeeze his hand and sigh happily. “I wish we could leave the world behind forever.”
He looks down at me, and his mouth tilts into a small smile. “Me too.”
We keep walking. At one point, I let go of his hand and wade into the shallows, water lapping at my calves.
He watches from the edge of the surf. When I come back in, he kisses my forehead and pulls me close, and we stand there like that for a long time.
Finally, we let go, and he leads me to a hidden part of the beach.
The sky becomes velvet. The stars pop out and twinkle like they’re putting on a show. Moonlight spills across the sand, painting the beach in silver and shadows. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Damien lays out a blanket and starts unpacking the bag he brought with him. First, he pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses. Then he takes out an assortment of fresh fruit, cheeses, and a divine-looking chocolate dessert.
He sits on the blanket and reaches a hand out to invite me to join him, his eyes half-lidded as he watches me approach.
His expression is so soft and unguarded.
Gone is the man who commands rooms. He’s been replaced by someone silent and contemplative, who buries his bare toes in the sand like he’s part of the landscape.
We haven’t talked about tomorrow. This week has been such a magical getaway, but that’s no guarantee of what our lives will be like when we get back home.
I don’t want to ruin the quiet. So I walk over to him barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin white dress that sticks to my skin in the humid air.
The hem flutters against my thighs as I step onto the blanket, and his gaze lifts to meet mine.
He doesn’t speak. He just reaches for my hand and pulls me gently down to him.
I settle between his legs, my back to his chest, and he wraps his arms around me protectively.
We sit like that for a while, just listening to the waves lapping against the shore. The only light we have is the moonlight, and it would be easy to get lost out here. We could stay in this dark inlet forever, wrapped around each other for eternity. If only life were that simple.
His hands trail deliberately over my arms and my hips. “You’re quiet tonight,” he murmurs against my hair.
I sigh happily, relaxing further into him. “I just don’t want this to end.”
He kisses my shoulder, lips brushing the strap of my dress. “Then let’s make it last,” he murmurs against my skin.
I turn my head to meet his mouth, and the kiss we share is slow and deep, filled with something I can’t name. His mouth is warm and inviting, and I’m greedy for him. Maybe it’s just the pregnancy hormones, but I literally cannot get enough of him.
His hands move more firmly now, sliding up my sides to the curve of my breasts, and I let my head fall back against his shoulder as his fingers tease under the fabric.
I reach behind me to touch his jaw, guiding his mouth back to mine.
He shifts, turning me around, laying me down gently on the blanket until I’m beneath him, the moon casting a soft glow over his face.
His hand trails under the hem of my dress, fingers grazing the inside of my thigh.
I arch into him, craving more, craving all of him.
“Damien,” I breathe. “Please.”
He pulls the dress up slowly, inch by inch, until I lift my arms and let him slide it over my head.
I lie bare beneath him, the warm night air brushing over my skin, the waves murmuring just a few feet away.
His eyes drag over me, slow and reverent, and I see the hunger in his face.
Though that isn’t the only place his desire is on display.
He kisses down my body, his lips moving from my collarbone to the swell of my breast. He knows exactly where to suck, where to nibble lightly to elicit the most inhuman sounds from me. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. He worships my body in a way that only he can do.
I’m absolutely soaked, writhing for him, when he finally slips a finger inside me. He pulls away slightly and looks me in the eye as he removes the finger and salaciously slips it into his mouth.
“I love the way you taste,” he growls. “You’re always so ready for me.”
I can only nod as he begins moving lower, replacing his fingers with his tongue.
I stare up at the stars, digging my hands into the blanket, feeling the sand underneath conform to my grasp.
He is so achingly thorough, tasting every inch of me, lapping me up like he’s been lost in the desert and I’m a glass of water.
The pleasure that crashes over me comes hard and fast, and I’m screaming his name into the night. He works me through it, his tongue not leaving my wet folds until my body has completely relaxed.
I am jelly beneath him as he begins kissing me again, bringing my body back to life.
He kisses my jaw, my mouth, and gently cups my breasts before finally settling between my legs. He slides his cock into me in one swift movement, and I almost shatter again right then.
He moves slowly, settling into me deeper than I thought possible.
I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him there, needing every inch of him, needing to feel him in every possible way.
His breath stutters against my throat, and he mutters something low in Russian that I don’t understand, but the way our bodies move transcends language.
I understand him in the way his hands grip my hips, in the way his mouth opens mine and his tongue begs me for submission.
“Lyra,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “You feel like heaven.”
I smile into his kiss, because I don’t know what else to do.
My body is burning, pulsing, wrapped tight around him and unraveling at the same time.
His hands find mine in the sand, fingers lacing together, pinning my arms beside my head as he thrusts deeper.
I moan, arching up to meet him, chasing that edge again.
This time, it builds slowly, cresting with every thrust before it finally shatters.
I come with a cry, trembling beneath him, my vision blurring as the stars seem to explode overhead. He doesn’t stop. He rides it out with me, kissing every part of me he can reach, murmuring soft words I can’t hold on to.
And then he’s falling too.
He groans my name like it’s the only word he knows, hips grinding deep one last time as he spills inside me, his body shaking from the force of it. He collapses gently onto me. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close, burying my face in his neck.
The sound of the ocean returns, soft and steady, lulling us both into a hazy, half-asleep state.
He stays inside me for a long time. Neither of us speaks. He just strokes my hair and kisses my temple while I cling to him, feeling the ripple of his taut muscles beneath my grasp.
I want to live in this moment forever. But it has to end eventually. And I’m not ready for it.
Eventually, we pull apart just enough to look at each other. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering along my cheekbone.
When we leave this place, I don’t know what we’ll be anymore. When I tell him the truth, he may not look at me the way he’s looking at me now. And who knows what secrets he has buried in the shadows?