Page 113 of The CEO

Eve rises to the challenge, as she always does. Her hips roll against mine, taking me deeper with each downward motion. Her head falls back, exposing her elegant throat, where marks from my earlier grip are already forming. Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine.

“Look at me,” I command, one hand rising to tangle in her hair, pulling her face closer to mine. “I want to see your eyes when you come apart for me.”

Her gaze locks with mine, pupils blown wide with arousal, all traces of earlier defiance subsumed by pleasure. My free hand slides between us, finding her clit and applying the right pressure that will push her over the edge.

“Damien,” she gasps, her movements becoming erratic as she approaches climax.“Please.”

“Come for me,” I urge, feeling my own control slipping as her inner walls begin to pulse around me. “Now, Eve.”

She shatters at my command, her entire body convulsing as release claims her. The sight of her coming undone triggers my own orgasm, pleasure exploding through me as I empty myself inside her, marking her in the most primal way possible.

We remain joined as aftershocks ripple through us both, her body collapsing forward onto my chest, careful of her pregnant belly between us. My arms encircle her, holding her close as our breathing gradually slows, hearts thundering in tandem.

“I really was careful,” she murmurs against my neck, the fight gone from her voice. “I wouldn’t risk him, Damien. Not intentionally.”

My hand slides to rest against the swell of her stomach, feeling the subtle movement of our son beneath my palm. “I know.” The admission costs me something, but in the aftermath of passion, truth comes easier. “But seeing you there . . .”

“Scared you,” she completes, raising her head to meet my gaze. Not mocking, just stating fact. “The great Damien Knox, terrified by the thought of losing his pregnant wife.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” I counter, vulnerability showing through the cracks of my usual control. “If our positions were reversed? If everything that matters to you was suddenly at risk because of one impulsive decision?”

She considers this, the strategic mind I value so highly weighing possibilities and consequences. “Yes,” she admits finally. “I would have reacted . . . poorly.”

A smile tugs at my lips despite the lingering tension. “Poorly. An interesting choice of words.”

“Murderously might be more accurate.” Her own smile emerges, the dangerous one that reminds me exactly who I married. “But then, we’ve always been well-matched in our protective instincts.”

I shift us to our sides, keeping her close as we settle more comfortably against the pillows. “The Vigilante has been handled. She won’t involve you in field operations again without my explicit approval.”

“You threatened her?” Eve’s eyebrow rises, though she doesn’t seem particularly disturbed by the possibility.

“I reminded her of priorities.” My hand strokes along her spine, soothing muscles I know must be sore from the evening’s activities—both the operation and our subsequent reconciliation. “And the consequences of endangering what’s mine.”

She nods, accepting this. Our years together have established certain immutable facts between us—chief among them that my protection of Eve transcends normal boundaries, normal ethics, normal restraint. The entire world understands that harming Eve Thorne-Knox invites consequences too terrible to contemplate.

“The witness?” she asks, professional concerns resurfacing now that our personal conflict has been resolved. “Has The Raven confirmed the safe house status?”

“Secure for now,” I reply, shifting seamlessly back into strategic mode—one of the many reasons we function so effectively together. “The surveillance team was neutralized before they could report the location. The Phantom has arranged emergency extraction to a secondary facility in Milwaukee.”

“Good.” Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, following the lines of the tattoo that bears her name. “We’ll need to accelerate the timeline for taking down the Mikelson organization if their security teams are this responsive.”

“Already in motion. The Skull is coordinating with yourTribunecontacts to release the first wave of evidence tomorrow.” I press my lips to her forehead, the last of my anger dissipating in the face of our renewed partnership. “The prosecution groundwork has been laid with three key judges.”

She smiles against my skin, satisfaction evident in her expression. “Mikelson won’t know what hit him. Public exposure, financial ruin, and shadow justice all in one coordinated strike.”

“The perfect balance of your light and my darkness,” I observe, echoing words we’ve shared before. “Justice delivered on multiple fronts.”

“Speaking of multiple fronts,” she says, hand sliding down to rest against her belly, “your son has been exceptionally active tonight. Apparently, he doesn’t enjoy it when we fight.”

I place my hand beside hers, feeling the strong kicks against my palm. “He has your temperament. Restless. Defiant. Unwilling to be contained.”

“And your timing,” she counters with a teasing smile. “Always choosing the most dramatic moment to make his presence known.”

The thought of our child inheriting traits from both of us fills me with a complex mixture of pride and trepidation. What kind of legacy are we creating? What kind of heir to The Shadows will emerge from this union of strategic brilliance and calculated violence?

“We should sleep,” I murmur, though sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. “The council meeting is at nine tomorrow. The Vigilante will need to explain her decision-making process regarding tonight’s operation.”

Eve shifts against me, eyes already sliding closed despite her obvious intention to continue our strategic discussion. The pregnancy takes its toll on her energy, though she fights the limitations with characteristic stubbornness.

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