13. Nichole’s Haven #4
My heart raced at his words, at the promise of more to come. I leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, savoring the moment and the connection we had forged.
As our lips parted, I knew this was just the beginning. The passion that had ignited between us was a force to be reckoned with, and I couldn't wait to see where it would take us next.
The world slowed.
The room, the walls, the worries—they all disappeared.
For a moment, there was nothing but warmth, the quiet hum of our tangled breaths, the slow, rhythmic press of our bodies against the lantern-lit glow of the room.
I had never felt so anchored and so unmoored at the same time.
Damian’s fingers traced slow circles along the bare skin of my back, his touch reverent in a way that made my chest ache. His breath was warm against my shoulder, his body a steady weight beside mine.
I should have been thinking about what this meant. What we meant.
But all I could think about was how he had ruined me.
How I would never be able to let this go.
How I didn’t want to.
I exhaled softly, turning my head to glance at him through the dim light.
He was already watching me.
Dark eyes unreadable. But present.
He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against my cheek before settling beneath my chin.
“Don’t do that.”
I blinked, still hazy. “Do what?”
His thumb traced along my jaw, slow and dangerous. “Overthink.”
I swallowed, feeling something tighten in my chest. “I don’t—”
Damian arched a brow, clearly unconvinced.
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “You’ve mentioned that before.”
I rolled my eyes, shifting slightly against the cushions, but Damian’s hand moved quickly, pressing against my hip to still me.
The sudden possessiveness in the movement sent a slow, deliberate heat curling down my spine.
I glanced back at him, my heart skipping. “Damian—”
His fingers flexed slightly, his smirk fading into something quieter, hungrier.
“Say my name like that again.”
My breath caught.
He was relentless. He was ruinous.
He was going to kill me.
And I would let him.
I swallowed, barely holding back the shiver that threatened to betray me. “Damian.”
His eyes darkened.
He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling against my skin.
“Good girl.”
And just like that—
I was lost all over again.
The glow of the lanterns had softened to a flickering hum, the warmth of the room wrapping around us like a whispered secret. The night stretched long, but neither of us moved.
Neither of us dared to.
Damian’s fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns against my skin, his grip loose but deliberate—like he was still holding onto something.
Or maybe, like he was trying not to.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I last spoke. Since either of us did. But the silence between us wasn’t empty.
It was expectant.
Charged with something I wasn’t ready to name.
I turned my head, my gaze drifting over the sharp lines of his face, the barely-there furrow between his brows, the way his lips had parted slightly as if he was on the edge of saying something.
He was still thinking.
Still guarded.
And that? That made my chest ache.
I shifted slightly, resting my palm against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my fingertips. “Damian.”
His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unreadable.
I swallowed. “Don’t disappear on me.”
His expression didn’t change, but something invisible did.
Something in the way his fingers tightened just slightly against my hip.
In the way his breath slowed.
In the way his silence suddenly felt heavier.
I had meant it as a simple request—one laced with more vulnerability than I would have liked, but still, simple.
But for a man like Damian?
There was no such thing as simple.
He exhaled slowly, his voice quieter this time. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He was here, lying beside me. His body still carried the heat of mine. But I could feel it—the way his mind was pulling away, the way his walls were already reconstructing themselves, brick by impenetrable brick.
Because that’s what men like him did, wasn’t it?
They made you feel like you were theirs, but they never let themselves be yours.
Damian studied me for a long moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against my wrist.
Then, finally, he spoke.
“I don’t disappear, tesoro.”
His voice was smooth, unhurried, but I caught the unspoken part of that sentence.
Not yet.
I should have pressed him. Should have made him tell me what that meant.
Instead, I inhaled deeply, forcing my voice steady. “Stay tonight.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was barely even a request.
And for a long, long moment, he didn’t respond.
Then, with slow deliberation, Damian reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, hesitating, before finally, finally settling against the curve of my jaw.
“Okay.”
That one word unraveled me.
Something inside me settled.
Something inside me broke.
Because I already knew—when morning came, I wouldn’t want him to leave.
And that… that was a problem.