8. Cara #2
“I told you. Weeks. I’m nowhere near done with you.
” He unbuckles his belt. Drops his jeans.
He’s gorgeous and hard and flushed and I reach for him without thinking, wrap my hand around him, and the hiss he makes through his teeth is the best sound I’ve ever heard.
He’s heavy and hot in my palm, and when I stroke him slow, base to tip the way he just taught me about patience, his head drops forward and both hands slam down on the desk on either side of me.
“Cara.” A warning, ragged. “Keep doing that and this ends before it starts. And I want-God, I want to be inside you when I lose it. Been thinking about it for weeks. How you’d feel. How you’d take me.”
“Then find out.” I stroke him again, watch him shudder. “I want to hear what I do to you.”
“You undo me,” he says against my mouth, helpless, honest. “That’s what you do. Completely.”
He grabs a condom from his wallet - I don’t ask, don’t care - rolls it on, and lines himself up. He drags the head through my slick heat, nudges my clit, drags it back, teasing us both, until I’m rocking up trying to take him.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do.
He pushes in. Slow. Inch by inch, watching my face the whole time, drinking in every flicker of it, and the stretch of him has my mouth falling open. He’s thick, and he goes deep, and he stops halfway just to make me feel it, then sinks the rest of the way until we’re both shaking.
“There,” he breathes. “Look how well you take me. Like you were made for it.” His forehead drops to mine. “You okay?”
“Move. Please move.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He moves. Deep and unhurried at first, one hand gripping my hip, the other braced beside my head, eyes never leaving mine. The desk creaks under us. Each slow drag pulls against that spot inside me and I’m climbing again already, faster than I’d have believed possible.
“You feel-” He cuts off, jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. “Christ, Cara. So good. So tight. I’m not going to last if you keep clenching like that.”
“Harder.”
“Yeah?”
“Harder.”
He gives it to me. The careful control burns off and he’s driving into me now, the desk knocking the wall, his hand sliding from my hip to grip my ass and angle me so he hits deeper.
I wrap my legs around him, dig my heels into the backs of his thighs, pull him in.
He drops his thumb to my clit and works it in time with his thrusts, and through it all he keeps talking - that’s it, take it, you’re so beautiful when you let go, come on, give it to me - and that’s all I can stand.
“I’m going to come-Damien-”
“Do it. Let me feel it. Want to feel you come on my cock - come on, Cara, I’ve got you-”
I shatter. It rips through me, my whole body clenching around him, and he groans something filthy against my neck and his rhythm goes ragged, hips stuttering, and he follows me over a few thrusts later with my name a broken thing in his mouth.
For a long moment neither of us moves. His forehead rests against my collarbone. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, as fast as mine.
“So that happened,” I say.
His laugh vibrates through both of us. “That happened. And like I said-” he lifts his head, kisses me slow-“I’m nowhere near done with you.”
After, we lie tangled together on the floor of his office.
His jacket is under my head, a makeshift pillow. My body is still humming, still processing what just happened. He traces lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, his touch light and wondering.
“Was that…” He hesitates. “Was that okay? I know it was fast-”
“It was perfect.” I roll onto my side, face him. “It was exactly what I needed.”
“I should have taken you somewhere nicer. A bed, at least-”
“I didn’t want nice. I wanted real.” I trace the line of his jaw. “This was real.”
He catches my hand. Brings it to his lips. Kisses my palm, my wrist, the inside of my elbow.
“I love you.”
The words land like stones in still water. Ripples spreading outward.
“Damien-”
“You don’t have to say it back.” He looks at me steadily. “I just needed you to know. Whatever happens with the divorce, with Marcus, with any of it - I love you. That’s not going to change.”
I stare at him. This man who appeared in a parking garage and offered to help me burn my life down. Who kept his distance when I asked him to. Who looked at me like I was worth something when I’d forgotten how that felt.
“I love you too.”
The words feel strange in my mouth. I haven’t said them to anyone - meant them, really meant them - in years. Maybe ever.
But I mean them now.
His smile is like sunrise. Slow and warm and bright enough to hurt.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He pulls me close. Kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.
“We should probably get dressed,” he murmurs against my hair. “Someone could-”
His phone rings.
We both freeze. The sound is jarring - too loud, too sharp, shattering the bubble we’d built around ourselves.
Damien reaches for it. Frowns at the screen.
“It’s Mike. The security guy.”
“Answer it.”
He does. “Yeah? What’s… wait, slow down. What kind of photos?”
I watch his face change. Watch the warmth drain away, replaced by something cold and hard.
“When?” A pause. “How many?” Another pause, longer this time. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up. Doesn’t look at me.
“Damien? What is it?”
“Someone’s been watching us.” His voice is flat. Controlled. “For weeks. They have photos - you coming to the warehouse, leaving late at night, through the windows of your apartment.”
My blood turns to ice. “Through the windows?”
“Motion-activated camera. Set up in the building across the street.” He finally meets my eyes, and there’s something terrible in his expression. “Marcus’s lawyers contacted mine this afternoon. They’re planning to use the photos in court. Claim you were having an affair while still married.”
“But I wasn’t - we didn’t - until tonight-”
“Doesn’t matter what we actually did.” He stands. Starts pulling on his clothes. “Matters what it looks like. And it looks like we’ve been together for weeks.”
The warmth from moments ago evaporates. I grab my shirt, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. How vulnerable.
“So what do we do?”
“We talk to Mike. See exactly what they have.” Damien’s jaw is tight. “And then we figure out how to fight back.”