His for Six Months

Chapter 40: Burn Me Beautiful

Chapter 40: Burn Me Beautiful

(Even fire can feel like a kiss)

The bedroom was dark—except for the soft spill of moonlight through sheer curtains and the chaotic rhythm of two hearts trying to beat in sync.

Damon laid her down like she was fragile glass. But his touch? Anything but gentle.

He hovered over her, eyes locked on hers, searching…or maybe warning. “I won’t be soft tonight,” he said, voice gravel. “I can’t.”

Aria’s pulse stuttered. “Then don’t.”

That was all it took.

He crashed into her like a wave claiming the shore—possessive, hungry, raw. His hands slid under her clothes, stripping away the layers until nothing but skin and heat remained. His mouth followed, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck, her collarbone, lower—

She moaned, back arching as he reached the part of her that pulsed with need. His tongue teased first, slow and merciless. Then fast. Rough. Wicked.

“Damon—” she gasped, hands fisting in the sheets, in his hair, in the air.

He growled, low and feral. “Say it again.”

She cried out his name, over and over, as her body shattered beneath his mouth.

But he wasn’t done.

He rose over her, unbuckling his belt with a single flick. Aria’s breath caught at the sight of him—bare, glorious, all dark hunger and tension coiled like a spring.

He didn’t ask.

He took.

With one thrust, he filled her, deep and claiming. She cried out, nails clawing his back as he moved inside her with devastating rhythm. Their bodies found a pace that was more than s*x—this was a war, a surrender, a warning.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her mouth. “Even when you hate me.”

Tears blurred her vision. Because it was true.

She hated him.

She loved him.

He rolled them suddenly, pulling her on top of him. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her. “Show me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Show me what I do to you.”

She rode him like her soul depended on it. Because maybe it did.

And when they both broke—loud, messy, aching—he didn’t let her go. He just held her, sweaty and spent, tangled in heat and heartbreak.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered into her hair. “Ever.”

She didn’t answer.

Because the truth was clawing at the door, and neither of them were ready to face it.