His for Six Months

Chapter 43: Ruin Me, Or Let Me Go

Chapter 43: Ruin Me, Or Let Me Go

(No mercy in a love triangle made of fire)

She didn’t speak for a long time after Cade left.

The door had slammed.

His cologne still lingered in the air.

And her skin still burned from Damon’s touch.

Aria stood in the silence, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the space where Cade had stood—where his heart had broken.

The guilt was thick. Heavy.

But so was the truth.

When she finally turned around, Damon was in the doorway. Shirtless. Barefoot. Eyes unreadable.

“You let him in.”

It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, unable to lie anymore.

Damon’s jaw twitched. “Did he touch you?”

“No.”

“Did you want him to?”

Her lips parted—then closed.

He stepped closer. “Aria.”

She looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

That broke something in him.

Without a word, he crossed the room and grabbed her wrist—not rough, but firm. “Then let me remind you.”

She gasped as he pulled her toward the bedroom. “Damon—”

“No talking. No more lies.”

He shoved the door shut with his foot and pressed her against it. His kiss was brutal—full of anger, need, possession. His hands slid under the oversized shirt still hanging from her frame.

His shirt.

“I can still taste me on you,” he whispered against her lips. “You think he could ever kiss you like that?”

She whimpered. “Don’t.”

But she didn’t stop him.

He spun her around, bending her slightly as he pulled the shirt over her head. She was bare, vulnerable, shaking.

And he worshipped her like a sinner on the edge of hell.

“Tell me who owns this body,” he growled, sinking to his knees behind her.

Her knees buckled as his tongue found its target, relentless and wicked.

“Say it.”

She cried out, body trembling. “You…”

Louder. “You.”

He stood, one swift motion pinning her to the door again. He entered her fast, deep, unapologetically rough.

“Mine,” he said against her ear, thrust after thrust. “Even if it kills me. Even if it kills you.”

She moaned, nails clawing the wood.

And when she shattered, it wasn’t quiet. It was devastation.

He followed seconds later, collapsing against her, breathing hard. They stayed like that—sweaty, bruised by love, tethered by something deeper than logic.

After a long moment, she spoke.

“Damon…”

He stilled.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The silence after that was deafening.

Because for the first time…

Damon didn’t answer.