Page 45 of The Merciless Don's Bride

“I just don’t like seeing you talk to any other men apart from me,” I say honestly.

“God, you’re impossible.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

“I mean it, Cassie. No more spending time with my men.”

“But they like me and they all seem fun.”

“My men are not fun. Those are my soldiers. Enforcers who will gladly go to war at my request. They’re not your friends,” I grit out.

She huffs out a breath, “Right. I almost forgot where I was for a second.”

I shut my eyes, my teeth clenching in frustration. I didn’t mean to kill her buzz. She lets out a soft tired yawn as we continue our walk to the house.

“Want me to carry you?” I offer.

“No,” she says stubbornly even though I can tell she’s only seconds from falling asleep.

“Cassandra…” I hum.

She makes a face, “Stop using my full name to scold me.”

“Stop doing things that make me scold you then.”

“Fine,” she relents, her feet falling to a stop.

I’ve been waiting for an excuse to touch her all night. I don’t hesitate. I scoop her into my arms. She gasps, a little caught off guard by how effortlessly I lift her off her feet, but her body molds to mine like it’s instinct.

I adjust my hold, one arm beneath her legs, the other across her back, until her head settles against my chest. She lets out a soft breath, like she finally feels safe.

“I’m surprised you’re so warm,” she murmurs, voice soft and teasing. “I figured you were cold-blooded.”

I smirk, tightening my hold as I carry her up the stairs like she weighs nothing. But each step is torture. Her breasts pressagainst my chest with every movement, her breath ghosting across my neck like a fucking invitation.

And my cock? Rock hard beneath her, aching with the need to claim what’s already mine. She has no idea how close I am to losing control. No idea how badly I want to ruin her, kiss every inch of her body, hear her moan my name until it echoes in her soul, mark her so deeply no other man would dare come near her.

By the time we reach her bedroom, I don’t want to let go.

I want to lay her down and slide into her heat. I want to feel her fall apart around me and know it’s me, only me, who gets to see her like that.

But she’s not ready. And I won’t take her until she is. Even if it’s fucking killing me.

“You can put me down now, Superman,” she whispers, a lazy, wicked little smile on her lips.

Reluctantly, I lower her to the bed, my hands lingering just a little too long, palms memorizing the curve of her hips. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans in.

I tug the blanket over her slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. She looks up at me, eyes soft and unreadable, and for a moment, everything else disappears.

I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead, but as I pull back, our eyes lock. My gaze dips to her beautiful full lips which are barely parted.

“Goodnight, Cassie,” I say, our lips so close I could almost taste her.

“Goodnight, Damien,” she whispers, not moving an inch closer… but not further away either.

And fuck, that almost kills me.

I finally tear myself away and turn toward the door. Every step I take feels like a punishment.

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