Chapter six
688 Words
Damien
9:03 PM.
She knocked.
I didn't open it right away.
Because if I did, I'd have to see her. Really see her. Without a desk between us. Without a storm. Without an excuse.
I opened it anyway.
Maya.
Black dress this time. Not a blazer. Not armor. Silk. Simple. It hit mid-thigh and made me forget how to breathe.
Hair down. No clip. Lipstick on.
She looked like a woman who came here to be found out.
"No tie," she said.
"No tie," I said.
We stared at each other in my doorway. Penthouse. 62nd floor. Manhattan below us. No one else in the building tonight.
"Are you going to let me in?" she asked.
"No."
Her brow pulled.
I stepped aside. "I'm going to pull you in."
She came.
The door closed behind her. Locked.
No security protocol. No thirty-minute timer. No board meeting in fifteen.
Just time.
Too much of it.
"You don't have to do this," I said. My voice was rough. "We can talk. We can—"
"Don't." She dropped her bag. It hit the floor. "If you talk me out of this, I'll hate you."
"Good."
I backed her into the wall. Not hard. Just enough.
Her hands were on my chest immediately. No hesitation. Like she'd been waiting all day.
"Damien—"
"Maya." I said her name like it was the only word I knew.
Last night was panic. This morning was desperation.
This was choice.
I kissed her.
Slow at first. Because I could. Because no one was counting down.
Her mouth opened under mine. She tasted like wine. Like defiance. Like the woman who cost me a board vote and made it worth it.
My hands were in her hair. My mouth at her throat.
"You're insane," she breathed against my skin.
"You started it."
"By signing?"
"By not signing."
She laughed. It broke off when I lifted her.
Her legs wrapped around my waist. The silk of her dress slid up.
I carried her to the living room. Didn't turn on the lights. The city lit us instead.
I set her on the back of the couch.
"Look at me," I ordered.
She did.
No tie. No desk. No rules.
Just her.
"I should fire you," I said.
"Try it."
I couldn't.
I wanted to worship her instead.
My hands were on the straps of her dress. They slipped.
"Damien," she said. Warning. Need.
"I've got you," I said. "I've got you."
I meant it.
The dress pooled at her waist. Then the floor.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
Of course she wasn't.
"Maya," I said. Her name like a prayer. Like a curse.
She reached for my shirt. Buttons flew. I didn't care.
Skin on skin. Finally. No silk between us. No glass. No boardroom.
She dragged her nails down my back and I swore.
"Was it worth it?" she asked. "The board? The company? Me?"
I stopped. Looked at her. Really looked.
"Yes," I said.
No hesitation.
She believed me.
Because she nodded. And pulled me down with her.
The couch. The carpet. Later, the bedroom.
We didn't keep track.
There was no clock.
No thirty minutes.
No five minutes before the board.
Just hours.
Her under me. Me in her. Her saying my name until it wasn't a threat anymore.
It was home.
At 2:17 AM, she was sprawled across my chest. Sweat. Hair everywhere. My shirt she'd stolen at some point.
I was awake.
Watching her.
"Can't sleep?" she mumbled.
"No."
"Regret it yet?"
"No."
She smiled against my skin. "Liar."
"I'm not." I pressed a kiss to her temple. "I don't regret you, Maya."
She went still.
Because that was the truth.
The scariest one.
"I'm going to ruin your life," she whispered.
"You already did." My hand in her hair. "And I'd let you do it again."
She didn't answer.
She just curled closer.
We fell asleep like that.
No alarms. No emails. No board.
Rule #6 of the boardroom: Never bring work home.
I broke it.
Because for the first time, my home wasn't a boardroom.
It was her.
- Writer
