9. Cassie #2
The stretch of him burns in the best possible way, a fullness that makes my vision go white around the edges. I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, back arching off the bed as he sinks deeper. And deeper. And deeper, until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
He groans against my throat, forehead pressed to my shoulder, whole body trembling with the effort of staying still. "You feel—" His voice breaks. "Cassie, you feel like?—"
"Move." I clench around him, and his hips jerk reflexively. "Please. I need you to move." I almost beg him.
He does.
Slow at first, like he is fighting for control even now. He rolls us suddenly, shifting until my back presses against the mattress properly and one of my legs hooks over his shoulder.
The new angle is devastating.
I cry out instantly, fingers clawing at the sheets as he drives deeper than before, his head dropping with a rough curse.
“Cassie,” he groans. “Jesus Christ.”
His hand slides between our bodies, thumb circling me slowly while his hips keep moving in heavy, controlled thrusts that make my entire body shake beneath him.
“You're taking me so well,” he says hoarsely. “Look at you.”
I can barely think.
All I can do is feel him everywhere—his weight, his mouth against my throat, the drag of his body against mine, the overwhelming fullness every time he pushes deep enough to steal the air from my lungs.
He lowers my leg carefully and shifts again, lifting my hips without breaking rhythm.
The position changes everything.
Now every thrust hits harder, rougher, and the sound that tears from my throat is completely obscene.
“There she is,” Gideon says darkly. “That's the sound I've been wanting.”
Long deep strokes that drag against every sensitive nerve inside me, that make me moan his name before I can stop the word. His mouth finds mine, hungry and desperate, kissing me like he is trying to breathe through my lungs.
"Faster," I demand against his lips. "Harder. I won't break." I cry out.
Something snaps behind his eyes.
He drives into me with a force that pushes me up the bed, that makes me cry out even more and claw at his back.
His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, exposing my throat.
His mouth latches onto the pulse point there, sucking hard enough to bruise, and I sob with pleasure at the sharp edge of it.
"That's it." His voice is dark honey, rough and possessive. "Let me hear you. I want everyone to know who you belong to." He demands.
"Yours." The word falls out of me without permission. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm?—"
He kisses me again, swallowing the rest of the confession. His hips snap against mine, driving deeper with every thrust, and I can feel everything—the tension building low in my belly, the desperate coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, the way he throbs inside me like he is close too.
"Come for me." His lips brass my ear. "I can feel how close you are. Let go, Cassie. I've got you."
The permission undid me.
My climax crashes through me like a wave, blinding and overwhelming, and I shatter around him with a cry I can't contain.
My body clenches and spasms, pulling him deeper, and I feel the exact moment he loses control—the guttural sound he makes, the way his rhythm stutters, the heat of him spilling inside me in long pulsing waves that seem to go on forever.
He collapses against me, breathing hard, and I wrap my arms around him and hold on.
Silence settles between us. for a long time.
Gideon shifts eventually, pulling out carefully, and I wince at the loss of him. He rolls onto his side and pulls me with him, tucking my back against his chest, draping an arm over my waist like he is afraid I'll disappear.
"That was—" He presses a kiss to my shoulder. "I didn't know it could feel like that."
I turn my head to look at him. The hard lines of his face soften, the permanent tension in his jaw finally eased. His stare feels warm in the dim light, watching me with something that looks terrifyingly close to wonder.
"Neither did I," I admit.
His thumb traces circles on my hip. "I should have done this years ago."
"You couldn't have." I reach back and touch his face, feeling the slight roughness of evening stubble. "We weren't ready years ago."
"We're ready now?"
I think about it. About the power imbalance. About the board members who will use this against us. About every reason this is a terrible idea that can destroy both our careers.
"I don't care," I say finally. "I'm tired of being careful. I'm tired of pretending I don't want you. I've spent two years watching you from across rooms and telling myself it was enough just to work beside you."
Gideon's arm tightens around me. "What changed?"
"You kissed me." I turn in his arms to face him, propping myself up on one elbow. "You stop pretending, and now I can't go back."
Something vulnerable crosses his face. "This has to stay hidden. Until the retreat ends. If the board finds out?—"
"I know." I press my fingers to his lips, silencing him. "I'm not asking for public declarations. I'm not asking for anything except this. You. Here. When we can steal the time."
He catches my hand and kisses my palm. "And after the retreat?"
I smile, slow and maybe a little dangerous. "We figure it out. Together."
He pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair, and I feel him exhale like he has been holding his breath for two years.
"Together," he repeats, like he is testing the weight of the word.
I curl against his chest and let myself believe, just for this moment, that we can have something real. That the terrifying billionaire who reduces grown men to silence with a single look can be the same man who holds me like I am precious and holds my gaze as if I've saved him from drowning.
Outside the villa, the island breeze carries the sound of waves against the shore. Inside, Gideon's heartbeat steadies beneath my ear, slow and strong and real.
Two years later, neither of us is pretending anymore.
"We should get back," I murmur eventually, even though I don't move. "Someone will notice we're both gone."
"Let them." His hand traces down my spine. "Five more minutes."
I laugh softly against his chest. "You're going to be impossible to work with now, aren't you?"
"Probably." I feel him smile against my hair. "I hope you're ready for me to find excuses to keep you in my office."
"Gideon."
"Cassie."
I lift my head and look at him. Really look. The man who rebuilds an empire from ashes. Who spends years convincing everyone he has no weaknesses. Who just admits he has been fighting his feelings for me since before I even notice he is looking.
"We keep this secret until the retreat ends," I say. "No exceptions. No slipping up in front of the wrong people."
A muscle ticks along his cheek, but he nods. "I won't risk you."
"And we figure out what this is. Together. No more pretending."
"No more pretending," he agrees.
I kiss him once more, soft and slow, sealing the promise between us. Then I slip out of bed and gather my dress from the floor, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. Watching me dress. Watching me become his assistant again instead of the woman who just takes him apart.
When I look back from the doorway, he is still watching.
"Goodnight, Mr. Carrington."
His eyes flash. "Goodnight, Cassie."
I walk back to my villa with the taste of him still on my lips, the ache between my thighs a sweet reminder of what we do, and the certain knowledge that nothing between us will ever be the same.
I don't want it to be.