Page 91 of The CEO

“Thank you,” I whisper against his skin.

His arms tighten around me, his lips pressing against my temple in silent acknowledgment. We’ve crossed another threshold together, venturing deeper into territory that frightens and exhilarates me.

* * *

Moonlight spills across Damien’s bedroom, casting everything in a silvery glow. His arm rests heavily across my waist, possessive even in slumber. I study his face, memorizing every line, every angle. He looks softer this way, almost peaceful—a stark contrast to the man who commanded me to kneel before him hours ago.

I shift beneath the sheets, feeling the pleasant soreness between my thighs. My body bears invisible marks of his passion—fingerprints on my hips, traces of his mouth on my breasts, the delicious ache deep inside that reminds me of how thoroughly he claimed me.

Damien always starts with my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear that makes coherent thought impossible. It’s his signature, his claim, the way he reminds me of who I belong to before anything else begins. My body responds instantly, conditioned now to his particular brand of possession.

I have my own rituals of claiming him—my nails scoring paths down his back, marking this powerful man as mine in the only way that leaves evidence. The first time I did it, he seemed surprised, as if no one had dared mark him before. Now he arches into it, a silent demand for the pain that proves this connection goes both ways.

His hands always find my wrists, pinning them above my head at some point during our encounters. My submission is never passive. I strain against his grip, testing his strength, making him work for the control he so desperately craves. The dynamic is always the same: I fight, he subdues, I surrender. The battle and its inevitable conclusion are as much a part of our lovemaking as the physical pleasure itself.

I trace my fingertip lightly over the tattoo on his chest. My name. The physical evidence of his obsession. In the stillness, I allow myself to marvel at the twisted path that brought us here. His eyes open suddenly, instantly alert.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, voice rough with slumber.

“Just thinking,” I admit.

He shifts, rolling toward me until he hovers above, his weight balanced on his forearms. “Dangerous pastime at this hour.” His fingers brush a strand of hair from my face. “What’s keeping you awake?”

“This.Us.” I reach up to trace the sharp line of his jaw. “How quickly everything has changed.”

“Do you regret it?” There’s a vulnerability in his question I rarely hear.

“No,” I whisper, surprising myself with the certainty I feel. “I should, but I don’t.”

A smile curves his lips. “Good.”

He lowers his head, his mouth meeting mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens. I part my lips, inviting him in, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

The kiss stretches, lengthens, becomes a conversation without words. His tongue strokes against mine. I arch my back upward, pressing my body against the solid wall of his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palm.

When he finally breaks away, we’re both panting.

“Say it again,” I whisper, needing to hear the words he spoke in the heat of passion earlier.

He knows exactly what I’m asking for. His hand slides up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with surprising tenderness.

“I love you, Eve,” he says, the words deliberate and measured. “I think I’ve loved you since I first saw you, though I didn’t recognize it then. I called it obsession, fascination, strategic interest . . . anything but what it was.”

I swallow hard, emotions tangling in my chest. “You’ve never said that to anyone before, have you?”

“Never.” His voice drops lower. “I didn’t believe I was capable of it until you.”

His confession undoes something in me—some final resistance I didn’t know I was maintaining. I pull him down, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

Our lips move together, hungry and demanding. His tongue slides against mine—tasting, exploring every corner of my mouth. I bite his lower lip gently, earning a growl that vibrates through his chest. The kiss deepens further, his hand tangling in my hair to hold me exactly where he wants me.

Minutes pass this way, or maybe hours—time becomes meaningless as we lose ourselves in the connection. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his control visibly slipping.

“The things you do to me,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine. “You have no idea how completely you’ve unraveled me.”

“Show me,” I challenge, my hands sliding down his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch.

He needs no further invitation. His mouth descends to my neck, finding the sensitive spot just below my ear that makes me gasp. He works his way down, leaving a delicious trail of heat that burns my skin wherever his lips touch.

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