Page 203 of The Contract

Because it does.

I bury my face in her hair, my arms wrapped so tightly around her that I don’t know if I’m keeping her from falling apart or if she’s the only thing keeping me from doing the same.

Her fingers clutch at my shirt, gripping me, anchoring herself. Broken sobs spill against my throat, and each one cuts me deeper than the last.

“I was so scared,” she chokes out. “I was so?—”

“I know, baby.” My voice is wrecked as I cup the back of her head, pressing my lips to her temple. “I know. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I sway us gently, whispering soft, broken words against her hair, against her skin, breathing her in, absorbing her pain.

I did this. I caused this.

And I will spend the rest of my life making it right.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. Time doesn’t fucking exist when she’s in my arms, when she’s trembling against me.

But slowly—so slowly—her body stops shaking. Her sobs quiet. Her breathing evens.

I hold her tighter, pressing my lips into her hair, whispering against her scalp. “I’ve got you.” Another kiss. “I’ll always have you.”

She doesn’t pull away.

I shift slightly, angling her face to me, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I love you, Elena.” A kiss to her cheek. “I’ll never hurt you like that again.” A kiss to the delicate line of her jaw. “You’re everything to me.”

Her breath catches, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit, holding on like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground.

I cup her face, wiping away the last of her tears with my thumbs. Her lips are parted, her hazel eyes swimming with emotion, and fuck, I need to taste her. To feel her. To remind both of us that we’re still here, still together.

I tilt her chin up.

Our mouths meet in the barest brush of lips—hesitant, aching—a kiss that feels like a prayer.

But then she sighs, and that sound—fuck, that sound—undoes me.

The dam breaks.

I groan, pulling her flush against me, my fingers tangling in her hair as I kiss her deeply, hungrily. She answers with a whimper, her arms winding around my neck as she presses into me, her body molding to mine.

The soft, slow desperation between us ignites into something scorching, something feral. Teeth, tongues, the slide of mouths that have been apart for too long.

She’s fire. She’s home. She’s mine.

And this time, I’m never letting her go.

She pulls back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead pressed against mine, her fingers still tangled in my hair. Her lips are swollen, her breathing unsteady, but it’s the way she looks at me that wrecks me completely.

Like I’m the only man in the world. Like I’m hers.

Her thumb brushes along my jaw, tracing the stubble there, and her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks.

“I love you too, Damien.”

I swear to fucking God, the words nearly drop me to my knees.

She swallows, her eyes searching mine, as if making sure I understand the weight of what she’s saying.

“I think I’ve loved you since that first night. Since I sat down next to you, and you looked at me like I was something worth wanting.” A shaky breath escapes her, but she doesn’t stop. “And every moment after that—every glance, every touch, every time you looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered—I just fell even harder.”

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