Chapter 3 - Chapter Three: The Game Begins

I told myself I wasn't going to open the door.I heard the knock, soft but insistent. I lay frozen in bed, the sheets twisted around me, his scent still lingering on my skin from two nights ago. I stared at the ceiling, willing the sound to stop, to disappear with the rest of the mess I was trying to bury.But it didn't stop.Another knock. Louder.Then silence.I waited.Then the buzz of my phone. Damian: Open the door, Leigh.I should've ignored it.Instead, I walked barefoot across the hardwood floor and opened it.And there he was.Damian Cain. In all his tall, rain-soaked, suit-creased, infuriating glory.He stepped inside without permission. Without hesitation. Like he always did.Like I was his home.His eyes scanned me bare legs, oversized shirt, no bra. His jaw tightened."You weren't going to open the door.""I shouldn't have."He closed the distance in three strides. "But you did."I backed up until my spine hit the wall. Déjà vu.His hands went to either side of my head."I dreamt of you," he said, his voice rough. "You were on your knees. Begging me not to stop."I swallowed hard. "What do you want, Damian?"He leaned in, his nose brushing mine."You."Then his lips crashed into mine. This wasn't slow.This was fury and desperation. Tongues clashing. Hands everywhere.He lifted me easily and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the kitchen island like he owned every square inch of my apartment.My shirt was gone in seconds. His lips found my chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth like it offended him by existing. His hand slipped between my thighs and found how wet I already was."Jesus, Leigh.""Don't stop," I breathed.He didn't.He knelt in front of me, dragged me to the edge of the counter, and buried his face between my thighs.I was loud. Shameless. Writhing.He growled against me, his tongue merciless, and when I came, it was with a scream that shook the cabinets.He stood, licking his lips like he was proud."You're unreal," he muttered, undoing his belt.I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me. "I'm not a game."His eyes burned. "Then why do you keep playing?"And then he was inside me.Fast. Deep. Devastating.My nails clawed at his back. He hissed, thrust harder."You love this," he bit out."No, I don't.""You love me."I froze.His hips stilled.And there it was. The line.We stared at each other, both panting, still joined."I never said that," I whispered."You didn't have to."Then he kissed me again slow this time. Hungry. Like he was tasting a truth he wasn't ready to face.And neither was I. He stayed the night.Not in the bed.On the couch.I watched him sleep from the hallway. One arm behind his head, chest bare, mouth slightly parted. Vulnerable.Beautiful.Damian Cain wasn't a man who stayed.But that night… he did.And it terrified me.Because staying meant wanting.And wanting meant the power wasn't his anymore.It was mine. In the morning, he was gone.No note. No message. Just silence.And the aching, blooming truth that I wanted him to stay again.I spent the day in a daze. Typing reports I didn't understand. Answering emails on autopilot.Then my phone buzzed. Damian: You're late.I looked up.He was standing across the office. In a gray suit. Watching me .Me: Late for what?Damian: Your punishment.My breath hitched. Me: You're insane. Damian: Be in my office in 5. Or I'll come get you.I closed my laptop.My heels clicked across the floor.I knocked once. Then entered.His blinds were drawn. The lights low.He didn't speak.He walked around me like a predator."Hands on the desk," he ordered.I obeyed.He lifted my skirt. Dragged my panties down. And then nothing.Silence.Anticipation clawed at me."Why are you doing this?" I asked."Because you opened the door," he whispered.And then his hand came down.A sharp slap against my ass.I gasped.Another.Another.Until I was wet and aching and trembling.He knelt behind me, tongue soothing the sting, and I moaned."You're mine," he said again.And this time… I didn't fight it. That night, I stared at my ceiling.What was I becoming?A toy? A fool? A woman addicted to pain dressed up as passion?Or was I just finally waking up?Because with him… everything felt alive.Even if it killed me.