Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
DOMHNALL
I wake the following day to the sensation of movement beside me on our bed at home, the mattress dipping as Anna shifts excitedly.
When I pry my eyes open, she’s already sitting up, a wild look in her eyes and her arms full of glossy printouts that catch the morning light streaming through our bedroom windows.
“Domhn!” Her voice is breathless, eager. “I talked to Quinn, and she says they’ve got it all covered at work. I took care of everything!”
I push myself up on my elbows, forcing my brain to catch up with her enthusiasm.
My voice is still rough with sleep when I respond.
“Quinn’s hardly my COO, love.” Despite my words, I can’t help the fondness that creeps into my tone.
Anna’s energy is infectious, even at—I glance at the clock—seven in the morning.
“I don’t care.” She practically vibrates as she shoves the printouts into my hands. “Look! Let’s go away! A pre-honeymoon. Amangiri! It’s gorgeous. It’s remote. I booked us tickets!”
The papers crinkle in my grip as I blink my eyes awake and try to focus on the images—stunning desert landscapes, sprawling suites carved into russet-colored rock, and infinity pools that seem to melt into the horizon. Before I can fully absorb it all, she’s thrusting plane tickets at me.
I frown, scanning the unfamiliar names printed on them. “Whose names are these?”
She waves it away, dismissive, already moving on to her next thought.
“After the photo scandal, I don’t want anyone knowing it’s us.
I found this amazing place, and all sorts of celebrities go there.
No one uses their real names.” Her hands flutter over the tickets and brochures.
“Plus, there’s WiFi if you’re desperately needed at work.
Escape to the desert with me! Just the two of us. ”
I study her face—her flushed cheeks, the slight catch in her breath, the way her eyes dart between mine and the tickets in my hand.
Something’s driving this sudden urge to flee, but beneath my curiosity, there’s a deeper pull.
The thought of having her all to myself, away from the noise and demands of Dallas, is too tempting to resist.
“I will never say no to my soon-to-be wife trying to whisk me away,” I tell her, my voice dropping to that lower register that always makes her breath hitch.
Her answering smile is brilliant, a flash of pure joy that cuts through any lingering suspicion. Whatever her reasons, she wants this—wants me—and that’s enough.
The resort materializes from the landscape like a mirage, all sleek lines and natural tones that blend seamlessly with the surrounding rock formations. Amangiri. A sanctuary in the desert. The stark beauty of it steals my breath—a modern fortress rising from ancient stone.
As we step from the car, the air is dry and clean, scented with sage and sun-baked earth. The heat wraps around us immediately, but it’s different from Dallas—pure and clarifying rather than oppressive.
Anna’s hand finds mine, squeezing tight as a staff member steps forward to greet us. They use the false names from our tickets without hesitation, treating us with a practiced deference that suggests we’re not the first “private” guests to arrive under assumed identities.
“We’ve prepared the Mesa Suite for you, as requested,” the host says, leading us through the main pavilion—a sprawling, open space where concrete and glass frame the surrounding mesas like living art.
Water features create gentle ambient sounds that contrast with the stillness of the desert beyond.
“Complete privacy, with unobstructed views of the desert and your own private pool.”
I feel Anna relax beside me, the tension she’s been carrying since we left home finally beginning to ease.
My arm slides around her waist, pulling her closer as we follow our guide across polished stone floors.
The other guests we pass—a mix of tanned celebrities and the quietly wealthy—offer polite nods but nothing more.
Here, anonymity is a luxury as coveted as the five-star amenities.
We pass through corridors where light plays across textured walls, designed to mimic the striated patterns of the surrounding rock formations. Each turn reveals another breathtaking vista, as if the resort itself is merely a frame for the grandeur outside its walls.
Our suite is better than the pictures—a sprawling space where floor-to-ceiling windows frame the vast desert.
Natural materials dominate—stone, wood, leather—in muted tones that echo the landscape.
A king-sized bed faces the panoramic view, and a sunken living area creates an intimate space despite the room’s grand proportions.
But it’s the private pool that draws Anna immediately—a geometric slice of blue extending to the edge of the terrace outside, creating the illusion that it flows directly into the desert beyond.
Her hands trail over the smooth concrete edge as she gazes out at the endless stretch of mesas and sky, painted in impossibly vivid shades of rust and gold and blue.
“It’s perfect,” she breathes.
I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. “You’re perfect,” I murmur against her ear, feeling her shiver despite the desert heat.
She turns in my arms, her eyes dark with something that looks like hunger.
“I want you,” she whispers, the words hanging between us like a confession.
My brow furrows slightly. It’s been less than forty-eight hours since our scene at the club. But the woman in my arms now is looking at me with unmistakable desire.
Before I can question it, she’s rising on her toes and pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens.
“In the pool,” she says against my mouth. “Just us.”
I should ask her about Dr. Ezra and about what happened yesterday. I should question this sudden urgency to get away, to be alone with me.
But her hands are already working the buttons of my shirt, and the determined look in her eyes silences the questions on my tongue.
“Your wish,” I tell her, my voice rough as I help her shed her clothes, “is my command.”
The water is warm, heated to perfection against the cool March air, and Anna slides into it with a sigh that sounds like relief. The late afternoon sun casts the pool in golden light, reflecting ripples across her skin as she submerges herself to her shoulders.
When I join her, she comes to me immediately, her body wet and slick against mine. There’s a sweetness to her movements, a tenderness that speaks directly to Anna, not Mads. But she wants me. It’s still new to me, her being integrated.
“I want to feel you,” she says, pressing close, her arms winding around my neck. “Just you. Just us.”
Her eyes hold mine, unguarded and vulnerable in a way I rarely see.
Water beads on her eyelashes, catching the sunlight like tiny diamonds.
I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones, searching her eyes.
Whatever she’s running from—whatever drove us here—doesn’t matter right now.
What matters is that she’s here, with me, asking for connection.
“You have me,” I promise her, sealing the words with a kiss as my hands begin to wander down the curve of her back, pulling her closer until there’s no space between us. “All of me.”
Her legs wrap around my waist, and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, rapid and strong.
I want to show her I can be gentle, too.
I don’t always have to be the dungeon master. She deserves to be worshipped in every way.
My lips find her neck, tasting salt and chlorine and her, always uniquely her. She tilts her head back, offering herself to me with a trust that makes my chest ache.
“Please,” she whispers, the word barely audible over the soft lap of water against the pool’s edge.
I want to take my time with her—to worship every inch of her body properly—but there’s an urgency in her movements that I can’t deny. My hands find her thighs, supporting her weight as she positions herself above me, her expression shifting to one of focused determination.
“Look at me,” I command softly, needing to see her eyes, to know it’s her—all her—with me in this moment.
She does, holding my gaze as she sinks down, taking me inside her with a gasp that echoes across the empty desert. I grip her hips, guiding her movements as I watch every flicker of pleasure cross her face.
“That’s it, love,” I murmur, voice rough with need. “Show me what you want.”
The water creates a gentle resistance around us, slowing our movements to a deliberate rhythm that builds the tension exquisitely. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, anchoring herself as she rocks against me, finding her own pleasure with a confidence that makes my blood pound.
As we move together in the water, the rest of the world falls away—no past, no future, just this moment.
Just Anna and me, wrapped in each other as the desert sky stretches endlessly above us, painted in deepening shades of gold and crimson.
Her skin glows in the fading light, water droplets sliding down her throat, between her breasts, catching fire in the sunset.
My control slips as she tightens around me, her movements growing more insistent. I tangle one hand in the back of her hair, tugging gently to expose her throat to my mouth. I lick the pulse point there, feeling it race against my tongue.
“Let go,” I tell her, commanding even in this vulnerable moment. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
She breaks with a cry that echoes off the surrounding rocks, her body shuddering against mine. The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, completely abandoned to pleasure—pushes me over the edge.
I pull her closer, burying my face against her neck as I thrust deep and come.
For long moments afterward, we stay entwined, our breathing gradually slowing as the water settles around us. Her forehead rests against mine, eyes closed, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“I love you,” I whisper against her skin, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. “All of you.”
And in this moment, with her body still joined with mine and her breath warm against my lips, I believe it’s enough. That we’re enough. That whatever storm is brewing on the horizon, we’ll weather it together.
Because that’s the promise I made—the one I’ll keep making, every day, for the rest of our lives.
The desert sky deepens to indigo above us, the first stars appearing like distant witnesses to our union.
Anna’s eyes find mine again, something profound and unspoken passing between us.
In this sanctuary carved from stone, I feel more certain than ever that what we’ve built together—complicated and messy as it may be—is unbreakable.
Let the world try to tear us apart. They’ll never succeed.