Chapter 17 - The Edge of Control
493 Words
Damien’s POV
The second Anna whispered that word—stay—something in him snapped.
He had spent years chasing vengeance, convincing himself that his sister’s killer had to pay, that nothing else mattered. But now, sitting in the dim glow of her apartment parking lot, looking into eyes that held so much fire and pain, vengeance was the last thing on his mind.
Anna wanted him.
And he had never wanted anything more in his life.
He kissed her again, and this time, there was no hesitation. No restraint. Just raw, burning need. Her fingers curled into the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer, and he let her. He let himself sink into her, let himself taste the desperation between them, the frustration, the unspoken words that neither of them could bring themselves to say.
He pulled her onto his lap, and she went willingly, straddling him without a second thought. The feel of her—soft and urgent, her body moulding against his—had him gripping her hips, his fingers pressing into her as he fought to hold himself together. But it was impossible.
She was undoing him, piece by piece.
Her lips left his, trailing along his jaw, his throat, teeth scraping just enough to make him groan. He slid his hands beneath her shirt, finding warm, bare skin, and when she arched into his touch, his pulse thundered in his veins.
“Damien,” she whispered against his neck, and f**k, that sound—his name spilling from her lips like a plea—was enough to drive him insane.
He shifted, one arm wrapping around her waist as he pushed open the car door. She gasped as he carried her inside, her legs tightening around him. He kicked the door shut behind them, barely making it past the threshold before pressing her against the wall.
Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, frustration laced in her touch. He smirked against her mouth, capturing her wrists, stilling her movements. “Slow down, Sinclair.”
Her eyes, dark with heat, flickered up at him. “You’re telling me to slow down?”
He chuckled, a low, deep sound. “I want to take my time with you.”
Her breath hitched as he dragged his lips down her throat, his hands skimming beneath the hem of her shirt. She shivered beneath his touch, and he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sound she made. He wanted to unravel her the way she was unravelling him.
She tugged at his shirt again, this time with more urgency. “Then stop talking.”
He grinned against her skin. “Bossy.”
And then there was no more teasing. No more restraint. Just heat, breathless moans, and the kind of desperation that only came from two people who had been denying this for far too long.
And Damien? He was more than willing to make up for lost time.
- Writer
