She lifted her arms to her sides and let the towel fall deliberately to the floor.
She heard his sharp breath. For a heartbeat he simply stared at her, and she felt the heat of his gaze glide over every inch of her bare skin. Then he reached out, tilted her chin upward, and lowered his mouth to hers in a warm, lingering kiss. Her breasts ached as they brushed against the rough hair of his chest. She kissed him back eagerly, and his lips grew firmer, more insistent.
The firelit room seemed to shimmer around her, spinning softly—like the night before her twenty-first birthday, when she and Dove and Delia had shared a bottle of champagne and twirled beneath drifting autumn leaves.
Kissing Damian felt like that—only far more intense. He tasted like champagne and heat and freedom. He made her light-headed, breathless, drunk on him.
He lifted her in his arms, still kissing her, and laid her gently on the bed. Then he stepped back and stripped off the last of his clothes. For a moment he simply stood there in the glow of the fire, looking down at her.
She stared back, cheeks burning, unable to look away. She had never seen a naked man before. He was beautiful—rough and powerful and everything she wasn't. And… so large.
What if she didn't know what to do?
What if she embarrassed herself?
A wave of nerves rippled through her.
But when he joined her on the bed, the warmth of his skin against hers made her breath catch. His solid chest brushed her breasts; she felt the hard, insistent pressure of him between her thighs. He kissed her slowly down her body, and she arched toward him without thinking.
"Please…" she whispered, not even certain what she was begging for. Movies, books—none of them had prepared her for this. Being touched by him was overwhelming, unfamiliar, utterly consuming.
Nothing like she had imagined…
"Wait,"he said firmly. She felt his breath on her belly, then her thighs, and she nearly arched off the bed.
He couldn't intend to no, surely-
She felt his tongue between her legs. Delicately at first, then more greedily, he tasted her. He pushed her thighs wide and spread her legs wide. Her whole body felt tense, so tense, driving her forward as the first orgasm hit her and she cried out.
He was above her holding her hand above her head with his strong arms and sheathing himself with a condom, he pushed his dick into her, he was huge. The pain came immediately.
He stopped, looking down at her with shock written all over his face. She looked up at him and even while pummeled beneath conflicting waves of pleasure and pain, she knew she didn't want him to stop not now not ever. She arched herself against him, raking her fingernails down his back.
"You're a virgin," he gasped.
She moved her hips against his, teasing him with her breasts. "Not any more," she whispered shyly.
A tremor rippled through his hard body.
"I don't understand." His forehead creased. He looked younger, almost bewildered. "Everything I'd heard about you….'
"I tried to tell you," she couldn't let him stop now, didn't want him to pull away. She took of his hands and slowly sucked the long length of his finger. "I was waiting for you.
He sucked in his breath. As if unable to resist, he pushed into her again, slowly at first. She moaned as the pleasure began to overtake the pain. He pushed into her again, harder. He took her breast in his hands suckling her, biting her nipples. Tension coiled low in her belly. She threw her arms back, wrapping her legs around his hard-muscled buttocks as he thrust deeper into her again and again,riding her hard and deep.
He gasped, his body slick with sweat, and cried out. Hearing him lose control sent her over the edge, and her screams join with her second orgasm, even more deeper and shattering than the first.
Afterward, she clung to him in a stunned haze. His arms were wrapped firmly around her, his skin warm and solid against hers. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow brushing over them like a protective veil.
Now she understood why he'd warned her that there could never be more between them. Because in this moment—with his warmth surrounding her, with the safety of his embrace—she felt protected, cherished… almost loved.
And all she wanted was to never move again.
But she had a dawn appointment.
Not with a firing squad—but close enough.
"I was wrong about you," he murmured, drawing her closer.
"Yes," she whispered.
He inhaled deeply. "I accused you of terrible things… and all the while, you were a virgin."
"It's alright."
"No, it isn't." His voice roughened. "I kidnapped you, blamed you for crimes that weren't yours… insulted you." He stared up at the ceiling. "And then I took you to my bed anyway. Elena, I was wrong. Horribly wrong."
"I'm sorry for all of it," he said quietly. "Please forgive me."
"No." She shook her head gently. "You're the first man I've ever truly wanted. And I don't regret what we shared. Not for a moment."
He exhaled shakily. "Thank you," he whispered. He kissed her temple—a soft, tender kiss, somehow more piercing than all the fiery passion before.
"I will make this up to you, Elena."
He kissed her again, brushing her cheek, smoothing her hair. He held her in the flickering firelight for a long time, eyes closed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't look like the harsh desert brigand anymore.
He looked young—unguarded, almost gentle.
He looked like a man someone could fall in love with.
Oh no, she thought. Love Damian? Absolutely not.
He lay beside her, holding her against his chest. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Eventually, his breathing slowed, deepened, softened.
She opened her eyes.
In the fading firelight, he looked impossibly handsome—dark hair tousled, profile sharp and strong, a shadow along his jaw. But asleep, he seemed different. Peaceful. Almost boyish.
Her throat tightened.
Gently, she slipped out of his arms.
Padding softly across the room, she went to his desk. She opened the drawer and took out the skeleton key. Quietly, she crossed to the wall and found the small, nearly invisible lock.
The key slid in perfectly.
With a soft click, the hidden door swung open—silent as a breath.