Chapter Twenty-Five
Damion
I lick her until she’s gasping, laughing, her cheeks pink with the aftermath of her orgasm. “That was—”
I kiss her, letting her taste the sweet saltiness of herself on my lips, settling thick and hard between her legs where my cock nestles into the slick, sweet spot between her thighs. “It was what?” I ask, rolling her to her side, and tangling our bodies, my hand pressed to her spine, fingers splayed, molding her close.
“Everything,” she whispers.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as surely as desire courses through my body. I caress down the length of her spine and scoop her sweet little backside into my palm. “Not everything yet.”
“No,” she whispers, and I can feel the urgency building in her again as she adds, “Not yet.”
I shift our bodies and reach between us, teasing us both as I rub against her—almost, almost there—dipping my head in only to pull back. “Oh my God, Damion. You’re destroying me. How—please—”
I drive into her, pulling her against me, and shifting in the warm heat. I groan with the relief of finally feeling her snug around me. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” I stroke her hair from her face and tilt her gaze to mine. “I could die here and be a happy man.”
She laughs. “Please don’t. That would be—”
I kiss her, and it’s a collision of heat and fear and want that explodes from me and feeds her response. I can taste all of the same in her, and it stirs wildness in us, desperation in the way our bodies sway and grind, and how we try to get closer, how I try to get deeper.
But it’s never enough.
It’s her that drives me to the edge, of course it’s her, but she trembles around me, squeezes me, calls out my name, and it’s all over. She devours me in every way, and the intensity of my release practically rips me to shreds. We collapse together, our breaths huffing out and melding, and when we both calm, when our chests rise gentler, and the world returns, our eyes light, and our lips curve.
“That was amazing,” she says, running her fingers over my lips. “You’re amazing.”
“Only when I’m with you, baby. Don’t forget that.” I kiss her. “I’ll get you something.”
With a push off of the bed, I walk into the bathroom, and I pause for an icy moment as my gaze lands on Alana’s clothes where they lie on the glossy white tile, and it’s almost as if they bleed where they rest. I damn sure bleed inside as I imagine the filth of another man’s hands on her body, anger bubbling inside me, acid and thick sludge in my gut.
I swore to Alana I would not kill my father, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t kill the men who kidnapped her. And I damn sure didn’t promise my father anything but a fate worse than death. I snatch up a hand towel for Alana and will my temper in check. This is not what she needs from me right now. Even knowing this, it’s another several sharp beats, and my feet are still planted.
“Damion!” Alana calls out, her voice the gentle breeze over the choppy waters of my emotions that calms the storm inside me.
I return to her and slide the towel between her legs. She laughs and says, “I think it might be too late to save a mess.”
I scoop her over to my side of the bed. “We’ll stay over here, nice and close.”
She kisses my jaw, a delicate feathered brush of her perfect little mouth, and says, “I like being nice and close, Damion. ” She says my name as if it’s sugar on her tongue that she wasn’t able to resist.
“Alana,” I say, my voice a playful rasp laden with emotions. I almost lost her again, and this time forever. I will slay dragons before I allow anyone to hurt her again. “My future wife,” I add, trying to stay light, but the roughly sewn words threaten a different mood I’m trying to avoid.
But Alana doesn’t seem to notice. She rotates around, her hand on my chest, her cheeks flush, accenting the delight in her eyes. “My future husband. That feels strangely wonderful to say.”
Despite all the things I’ve done, all the ways I allowed my father to shape me and my life, I’m strangely wonderful with her in my life. “It does,” I agree. “And we still didn’t plan the wedding.”
“I thought we decided we’d have it here, where we can share naughty memories while people act refined and proper.”
The corner of my mouth quirks. “As appealing as that idea is, I want you to have the wedding of your dreams.”
Her smile fades and she eases back to my shoulder—not a word spoken, not a dream revealed, the air thick with a shift in her mood.
“What just happened?” I ask, my hand settling on her head and stroking her hair.
“Nothing. I’m just happy to be home.”
“Alana,” I press. “What just happened?”
“Hmmm, well for one thing, I need to go to the bathroom.”
She rolls away swiftly and is off the end of the bed before I can stop her. I throw my feet off the side of the mattress, sitting up just in time to catch a momentary glimpse of her creamy white skin, and perfect body, as she disappears inside the bathroom and shuts the door. She doesn’t shut the door. That’s not what we do. What the fuck just happened? Does she not want to marry me? No , I think immediately. Her smile glistened like diamonds in the sky when I called her my future wife.
She must be back to her fear that she’ll bring the wrath of my father onto me.
But even that doesn’t feel right.
I stand and don’t even consider grabbing my clothes. This isn’t a time for barriers or doors. And yet, that is exactly what we have—a door between us.