Page 56 of The CEO

Before she can respond, and before I can change my mind, I turn and walk toward my bedroom suite. The distance between us grows with each step, a physical manifestation of the control I’m forcing myself to maintain.

Once inside my bathroom, I strip off clothing stained with Kurt Ivy’s blood, letting hot water wash away the physical evidence of tonight’s violence. But nothing can cleanse the memory of Eve in my arms, the taste of her on my tongue, the small sounds she made against my mouth.

I press my forehead against the cool tile, water cascading over my shoulders. What am I doing? I’ve spent eight years orchestrating this moment—bringing Eve Thorne into my orbit, cultivating her interest, and manipulating circumstances to bind her to me. Now that she’s finally here, finally within reach, I’m pulling back.

It’s not just calculation anymore. Not just strategy. The realization disturbs me more than it should.

I’ve never allowed emotion to interfere with my plans . . . well, not since I was nine years old. Emotion is weakness, vulnerability, a luxury men like me can’t afford.

Yet Eve Thorne has somehow slipped beneath my carefully constructed armor, awakening something I thought was long dead.

I turn the water colder, a physical shock to clear my mind. I need to regain perspective, to remember why I brought her into my world in the first place. She’s an asset, a potential member of The Shadows, a means to an end.

But even as I form the thought, I know it’s a lie. Eve has never been just an asset to me. She’s been an obsession—a fixation that has driven me for years.

I close my eyes, the cold water doing nothing to soften my cock. My forearm stays pressed against the shower wall in front of me, my head lolling forward as I slide my hand down to grip myself.

A hiss escapes my chest, echoing around me as I slowly begin to stroke myself. I’m consumed by the thought of Eve’s pussy gripping me as she rocked in my lap just moments ago. My pleasure builds so fast, I have to slow my movements to keep from coming already. I shift my legs a little further apart, my arm stretching above me as I stroke myself with renewed passion.

But something out of the corner of my eye grabs my attention. I turn my head just enough to see Eve’s reflection in the mirror across from me. She’s standing in my bathroom doorway, watching me.

Instead of stopping, I turn my attention back down to my thick cock, the veins so pronounced down my shaft, I’m seconds from bursting. The knowledge that she’s watching me right now drives me on.

“Fuck, yesss,” I groan, my hips starting to thrust in time with my strokes. I fuck my hand deeper—long, slow strokes one after the other until my movements stutter and my head falls back as my release falls to the shower floor one thick string after the other.

My body shudders, my breathing loud and erratic as my vision blurs, finally coming back into focus after several aftershocks. By the time I regain my composure and look up into the mirror, she’s gone.

I shut off the water, drying myself mechanically while my mind continues its internal war. Part of me wants to walk back out there, take her in my arms again, and finish what we started—claim her completely and bind her to me in the most primal way possible.

The other part—the coldly pragmatic part that has kept me alive and in power all these years—knows that would be a mistake. Eve isn’t ready. Not for all of me, not for the full truth of what binds us together.

When I finally emerge from the bathroom, dressed in fresh clothes, I find the living room silent. Eve is curled on the sofa, her body relaxed in sleep, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. The whiskey glass sits empty on the table beside her.

I stand watching her for a long moment, struck by how young she looks, how vulnerable. The fierce journalist who confronted me in my office, the woman who pulled a trigger without hesitation tonight—both are temporarily hidden beneath this peaceful exterior.

Carefully, I lift her into my arms. She weighs almost nothing, her body instinctively curling against my chest as I carry her through the penthouse to my bedroom. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her breath warm against my neck.

I lay her gently on my bed, drawing the covers over her. Her dark hair fans across my pillow, creating a stark contrast against the white linen. She belongs here, in my space, in my bed. The sight of her satisfies something deep and primal within me that I won’t be able to resist much longer.

Before I can analyze that satisfaction too closely, I retreat to the chair across the room. I’ll watch over her tonight to ensure no nightmares disturb the rest she desperately needs.

For now, it’s enough that she’s here, safe under my protection. Everything else—the kiss we shared, the hunger still burning in my veins, the complex web of truths I have yet to reveal to her—can wait until morning.

I settle into the chair, my eyes never leaving her sleeping form, prepared for the long night ahead.

The night passes with Eve sleeping in my bed. I don’t sleep. Instead, I sit, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, listening to the sweet sounds of her breathing. The concerned look that darkened her features most of the night has finally faded, softened by sleep.

When morning light filters through the curtains, her eyes flutter open. She startles slightly at finding me there, then relaxes back into the pillows.

“Did you sleep there all night?” she asks, her voice husky.

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate or explain that I couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone after what she’d experienced.

She sits up, my T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. The sight of her bare skin in my bed sends heat coursing through me, a visceral reminder of the possessiveness I’ve been fighting since she entered my life.

Instantly, I imagine myself sinking my teeth into her shoulder as I impale her onto my cock, her legs wrapping around my body as I slide my hand up the shirt to cup her bare breast.

“That can’t have been comfortable,” she says, watching me with those perceptive eyes.

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