Page 41 of The Last Shadow

“I think it’s what I need, what we both need, actually. It’s clear you have other things going on, too. We’re both busy and maybe we should focus on what we do best. Work.”

His brows dip and he frowns, closing the gap between us once again. “That’s not what I want, Francesca. Is it what you want?”

“I know I don’t want to be an afterthought in my own damn house, Damien. We’re not ready for this.”

“That’s not true, my pet.” He’s there again, right in front of me with his muscular arms around me. “We are ready. I love you and you love me, hell you’re meant for me, kitten.”

When he says things like this, I feel like I’m being unreasonable, that I’m the crazy one here. It’s frustrating, feeling as if I’m not myself and I lean into him. “Damien, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you how I feel? Because I love you Francesca and I don’t feel so bad about our growing pains as a married couple. I don’t want to take a break and work. I want us to work. I need you.” His second hand slides up to cup my face, resting his forehead against mine. “If you don’t love me and you don’t want to make things work out, tell me what I can do.”

“I-I-I never said that.”Did I?

“Not in so many words, no.” His shoulders fall and he takes a step back, but he never stops touching me. “Let’s just take tonight to be together. I’ll heat the spa and open some champagne, see if we can get back to where we were. Can we do that?”

Everything in me wants to say yes, but I hesitate, anyway. I love this man, and I want him in my life and at my side. I can’t walk away from him, definitely over a few bumps. Can I?No.

I look at him, and the raw emotion in his eyes catches me off guard. He looks almost pained, like he’s afraid I’ll leave him. “I love you, Damien. I do.”

“Good.” His voice cuts through the moment, sharp and final, leaving no room for doubt. “Then let’s focus on that.”

The hot tubbubbles invitingly as I slip into the heated water, still a little angry about our fight but unable to resist when Damien hands me champagne, his eyes dark with intent. The mountain air nips at my wet skin, and the heat between us has nothing to do with the water temperature.

“Still mad at me, kitten?” His voice is silk over steel as he pulls me onto his lap. I should push away, should hold on to my anger about his mysterious disappearances, but his touch sets my skin on fire. The champagne bubbles tickle my nose as I take a long sip, buying time.

“Yes,” I manage, but my body betrays me as his hands grip my waist. The jets pulse against my back while steam rises around us, wrapping us in our private little world. Damien’s thumbs trace circles on my hips, making me shiver despite the heat.

“Let me make it better,” he commands rather than asks, typical Damien. His fingers dig into my flesh. “Show me you’re still mine. Even when you’re angry.”

I want to resist, to prove I’m not so easily controlled, but when he enters me, I can’t help the moan that escapes. The water makes everything slick as I take him deeper, my anger morphinginto desperate need. The champagne has gone straight to my head, making everything feel dreamlike and intense.

“That’s it,” he growls, one hand fisting in my hair while the other grips my hip. “Look at me while you fuck me, Francesca. Show me who you belong to.” His eyes lock onto mine, filled with an undeniable possessiveness and something dark.

And flat out delicious.

“Damien…” I gasp as he hits that perfect spot. My hands brace against his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers. He controls our pace, slower than I want, making me feel every inch.

“Say it,” he demands, holding me still when I try to move faster. “Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.”

“Please,” I whimper, trying to grind against him, but his grip is iron.

“Say. It.” His voice brooks no argument. Water laps at my breasts as I tremble in his grasp.

“I’m yours,” I say, and he rewards me by letting me move again. God help me, I love how he takes control, even as part of me rebels against it. My mind flashes to his earlier disappearance, but his touch drowns out my doubts.

The water churns around us as we chase orgasms together. His possessive touches, his commanding tone should frighten me by how much power he has over me. But it doesn’t. It actually drives me wild. Every brush of his fingers, every demanding kiss makes me forget why I was angry.

“Come for me, pet,” he orders, and my body obeys instantly, pleasure crashing through me as I cry out his name.

As we catch our breath, he brushes my lips with his thumb, his other hand still tangled in my hair. “You belong with me,” he says, and I shiver at the darkness in his tone. “No matter what happens, you’re mine, Francesca. Do you understand me?”

I should be terrified by how completely he owns me, by the possessive glint in his eyes. Instead, I melt into him, pushing away the warning bells in my head. Questions about where he goes, what he does can wait.

At least for tonight.

He reaches for the champagne, refilling our glasses. “To us,” he says, but it sounds more like a claim than a toast. I clink my glass against his, trying to ignore his earlier words.

No matter what happens.

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