Page 18 of Rekindling Desire

“Darius,” Damien growled.

Taking a step back, I found the switch and turned on the overhead light. My focus went to Damien’s right hand. His knuckles were red and swollen. I gently ran my fingertips over numerous small lacerations. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured.

“I think ice is needed.” Turning toward the suite, I took in the space for the first time. The turning on of the light made the large windows appear black, reflecting what was within. The suite was larger than our respective rooms in Ashland. To the left was a small kitchen, with mini appliances and a round table. Straight ahead was a living area with multiple sofas, chairs, and tables. Centered within the windows were glass doors that led to a balcony. Off the living area were two frosted French doors. Through the open doors, I saw a large king-sized bed within the bedroom. “I could call for room service, or maybe…” I headed toward the kitchen. Opening the freezer of the slender refrigerator, I found two ice trays filled with ice. Pulling them from the shelf, I announced, “Just what the doctor ordered.”

When I turned, Damien was there, mere inches away. His deep voice resonated through me. “You, Ella, are all the doctor ordered.” His left hand came to my cheek as his lips met mine. He tasted of coffee and exhaustion, yet his approach was far from that of a tired man.

Up on my tiptoes, I met his kiss with equal fervor. Our kiss deepened as we leaned into one another. Were we reassuring each other that this was real? Or were we seeking the connection we’d once had? Whatever we were searching for, our exploration took us from the kitchen to the bathroom, our clothes littering the floor, leaving a trail in our wake.

The mirrors covered in steam as we stepped inside the glass shower.

Heated water rained down, washing away the extraordinarily long day. With a soapy washcloth, I left suds as my touch roamed over Damien’s wide shoulders and down his torso. He forced his fingers to bend as he massaged shampoo and conditioner through my hair.

With my fingers splayed on the tile wall, I felt a sense of loss as he cleaned my core and thighs.

As if reading my mind, he lowered his lips to my ear and whispered, “I’m not done. You’ll be marked again before we fall asleep.”

With a grin over my shoulder, I peered up at the mountain of a man who was now my husband. My heart wanted bows, flowers, and candies. My mind knew our future wouldn’t be that easy. There were mammoth obstacles in our path. However, in my state of sleep deprivation, I clung tightly to the idea that we would make it beyond the five months to a happily ever after.

True to his word, Damien filled me with his seed, once under the warm spray and again in the soft large bed. By the time my eyes finally shut, sunshine was peeking around the heavy curtains.

I woke disoriented, as if life was a film I was watching in slow motion.

My senses came to life.

Touch was the first—soft sheets against my skin. All of my skin. I was nude.

Hearing came in a close second—the rhythmic sound of measured breathing reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

Smell registered—the fresh scent of bodywash and the floral aroma of hair products.

Sight caused my eyes to squint. Even with the drapes closed, the room was bright.

It was touch that had my attention.

Warmth.

Radiating from the man at my side.

My long hair was no doubt in unruly waves from falling asleep with wet hair. As I turned and lifted my head, I was mesmerized by the realization that Damien was my husband.

My pulse quickened at the memory of the pastor declaring us wed.

For longer than I would admit, I watched my husband in slumber.

A force of nature, Damien rarely appeared less than in control of any and every situation. Yet here he was, sound asleep. His full lips were parted, his dark-blond mane wavy, and his body relaxed. Seeing him this way was striking and reassuring at the same time.

I longed to snuggle close, to bring my lips to his, and to peer beneath the blankets to learn if he was sporting a morning hard-on. I’d willingly help him if needed.

Morning.

What time is it?

Searching the room around me, I found nothing. No phone. No clock. No indication of the time of day other than sunlight seeping from behind the curtains.

What if Marsha or Dani had tried to call?

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