His Private Terms

Chapter 7 : Powerless against him

By eleven that night, the penthouse was completely dead.

Lila sat on the edge of her bed in a loose t-shirt and shorts, staring at the camera sitting on her nightstand. Her skin still felt warm where Damien had touched her jaw earlier, and it made her stomach turn in frustration. She had built her entire career on being level-headed and professional. Yet in less than two days, Damien Vale had made her feel like she didn't even know how to hold her own lens.

*He’s doing it on purpose,* she thought, running a hand through her hair. *He wants to rattle me so I quit.*

She wasn't giving him the satisfaction.

She stood up, grabbed her camera, and swapped her bulky zoom lens for a small, silent 35mm. If he wanted to mess with her work, she was going to do what she was hired to do. Catch him off guard.

She slipped out into the hallway without shoes. The apartment was dark, but a thin strip of yellow light spilled from under the study door.

Lila crept over and looked through the crack.

Damien was sitting behind his desk, but he wasn't doing paperwork. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, his tie gone, and his head was thrown back against the leather chair with his eyes closed. One arm was flung over his face like he had a killer headache, and a half-empty glass of whiskey sat on the desk next to a thick black folder.

He looked exhausted. Human. Completely unguarded.

This was the photo no news outlet had ever gotten.

Lila held her breath, raised the camera to her eye, and aimed it right through the crack in the door. She dialed down her exposure in the dark and pressed the shutter.

The camera made a tiny, almost silent *click*.

She checked the screen. Perfect. The faint light hitting his chest, the shadow across his face...it was easily the best shot she’d taken all week. She leaned in a half-inch closer to take another.

"If you wanted a picture, Lila, you could have just walked in."

Lila’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

Damien hadn't moved. His arm was still over his eyes, his voice low and raspy in the quiet room.

She froze, her thumb locked over the controls. "I was just doing my job."

Damien slowly lowered his arm and turned his head toward the door. His eyes were heavy, but sharp as a knife. "Get in here."

Lila pushed the door open and stepped into the room. She kept her arms crossed over her camera, suddenly very aware of her bare legs and oversized shirt.

Damien’s eyes dragged down her frame, taking her in before he gestured to the camera. "Let me see."

She walked over to the edge of his desk and held out the small LCD screen.

He looked at the image for a long time. The room went quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. His jaw tightened just a bit, but his face stayed unreadable.

"You think you caught me slipping," he said quietly, looking up from the screen to meet her eyes.

"I caught a candid shot," Lila said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You told me to document your life."

Damien stood up. Without his jacket and with his shirt hanging open, he stepped around the desk and stopped right in front of her. The smell of whiskey and cedar hit her instantly.

"You snuck up on me in the dark because you think that little piece of equipment gives you leverage," he said, stepping so close her chest brushed his open shirt.

"It's my job," she whispered, refusing to take a step back.

Damien didn't argue. Before she could react, his large hand came up, his broad palm wrapping firmly around the back of her neck. His thumb pressed into her jaw, tilting her head back until her throat was completely exposed. Before her brain could catch up, his other arm snapped around her waist, digging into her hip and pulling her flush against his hard, warm body.

Lila gasped, her hands coming up to press uselessly against his chest. She meant to push him off. she *wanted* to keep her composure—but the moment his hot mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below her ear, every single defense she had collapsed.

Damien dragged a slow, deliberate kiss down her neck, his stubble scraping rough and hot against her skin. He bit gently at the curve where her neck met her shoulder, making her arch helplessly into him with a quiet, breathless moan. She tried to fight it, tried to pull back, but her hands ended up clutching the fabric of his open shirt instead. A sharp, heavy ache coiled deep in her core, hot and slick, turning her blood into liquid fire.

She tilted her head back, completely undone by the feel of his hands squeezing her waist, her whole body buzzing with a desperate, sudden heat.

Damien felt her yield. He heard the small, needy sound caught in her throat and felt how soft and damp she was becoming against him.

Right as she whispered his name, her hands knotting into his shirt, Damien stopped.

He slowly lifted his head. His dark eyes were heavy, burning with absolute satisfaction as he looked down at her flushed face, her parted lips, and her dazed, heavy-lidded eyes.

A slow, arrogant smirk spread across his mouth.

He abruptly let go of her waist and stepped back, instantly stripping away his warmth and leaving her shivering in the cool air of the office. Lila stumbled slightly, clutching the edge of the desk just to keep her knees from giving out. Her skin was burning, her shorts damp, and her pulse hammering wildly in her ears.

"Pack a bag for three days, Lila," Damien said softly, watching her struggle to catch her breath as he smoothed down his shirt with infuriating calm. "We're going out of town for a business trip first thing in the morning."

He pointed toward the hallway, his smirk lingering as he locked eyes with her ruined, breathless stare.

"Go to sleep. The car leaves at six."

Lila stood there, her chest heaving, her skin still aching with an unbearable, unfinished heat, before she turned on her heel and fled back to her room.