Page 40 of Forbidden Access

She was powerless to resist, her gaze lifting to meet his.

That was all it took. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between them, crushing his lips against hers. The kiss was fierce, demanding, with a desperation that sent a shiver of raw need through her. His teeth grazed her lips as his tongue claimed her mouth, hard and possessive, leaving no room for doubt, no room for her to retreat.

She kissed him back with everything she had, the barriers she’d so carefully erected crumbling to dust. There was no going back from this. He was claiming her, and she was letting him.

Her attempt to keep him at bay had failed spectacularly. He’d broken through her defenses, tearing down every last one until she was laid bare, vulnerable, exposed.

And she was unprepared for the torrent of emotions that her surrender unleashed.

A sob caught in her throat, but Damian swallowed the sound, his arms wrapping around her like a shield, protecting her from the storm she’d kept bottled up for so long.

His hands gripped her ass, pulling her flush against him, his need evident in the hard line of his body. He wanted her—God, how he wanted her. And she wanted him just as fiercely, the intensity of it leaving her breathless, disoriented.

Fire raged through her veins, incinerating every thought, every hesitation. How had she ever thought she could walk away from this? From him?

Their attraction was too intense, too primal to ignore. It was a force of nature, undeniable and unstoppable, and she was caught in its grip, powerless to fight it.

She clung to him, her fingers tangling in his hair, needing to feel every inch of him, to burn herself into his memory, just as he was searing himself into hers. She was melting in his embrace, the heat between them scorching her from the inside out.

A desperate moan escaped her lips, a sound she didn’t recognize as her own. She was losing herself in him, in this moment, and she didn’t care.

Damian pulled back, breaking the kiss with a low, animalistic growl, his chest heaving as he looked down at her, his eyes molten silver, filled with an intensity that left her reeling.

“Now tell me that meant nothing.”

Thorn couldn’t remember walking down the mountain. The journey back to the hotel was a blur, the winding alleyways a vague memory. She didn’t recall stepping into the cold shower, scrubbing off the sweat, the dirt, and the raw, unbridled lust that had built up during their hike.

It was only when she emerged, shivering and dazed, that her brain cleared just enough to process what had happened.

Okay, so he’d proved his point.

Big deal.

It still didn’t mean they should be involved.

If anything, it proved her point—that she couldn’t do her job when her mind was so consumed by him. Take the last hour, for example. They could have been ambushed by bandits, blown up by rebels, or attacked by wild animals on the way down the mountain, and she wouldn’t have noticed.

He’d left her shattered and shaking, torn up inside. The fire he’d ignited hadn’t simply gone out; instead, it burned like a hot, glowing coal, leaving her sweaty, frustrated, and more than a little aroused.

Damn, Damian.

When they’d gotten back, he’d left her alone to grab a pack of beers from the store. She’d let him go, desperately needing the time to regroup, to try to make sense of what had happened out there.

The ice-cold shower had calmed her down, given her some perspective. This had to stop. But how was she going to tell him he couldn’t manhandle her like that—even if it was to prove a point? Damian wasn’t the type of man to take no for an answer.

That smug look on his handsome face hadn’t helped either. It had only made her madder, more frustrated.

By the time he got back from the store, she’d regained some of her composure. “Damian, we need to talk.”

Instead of answering, he handed her a wrapped parcel. “I got you something.”

Trust him to throw her completely off balance.

She stared at the package. “You got me a gift?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, looking for all the world like a pleased little boy who’d done something clever. Why did that tug at her heartstrings? “It’s more of a disguise than a gift.”

Intrigued, she pulled open the wrapping, and out tumbled a knee-length blue dress with a subtle floral pattern. She held it up, the fabric flowing over her hands. It was off the shoulder, cinched at the waist, then flared out to her knees.

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