Page 17 of The Billionaire's Obsession

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "No idea what I've been going through these past weeks, wanting you, watching you, trying to keep my distance."

I should stop this. I should pull away. I should remember all the reasons why Damon Blackwell is dangerous to everything I've worked for.

Instead, I stand perfectly still, caught in his orbit, unable and unwilling to break free.

CHAPTER

NINE

Damon

She remains still,caught between the glass wall and my body, making no move to escape. Her eyes never leave mine, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or proof that this isn't just a game to me.

I can't wait any longer. The need to taste her overrides every other thought. I lean down, giving her time to turn away if she wishes. She doesn't. Her lips part slightly, an unconscious invitation I accept with a growl of triumph.

The first touch of her mouth against mine is electric. Soft. Yielding. Perfect. I keep the kiss gentle for all of three seconds before the beast inside me breaks its chains. My hand slides to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as I deepen the kiss, demanding a response.

She gives it. Her lips part further, a small sound escaping her throat as her hands come up to grip my shoulders. Not pushing me away—holding on. I press her more firmly against the glass, my body flush against hers, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. What she's always done to me.

I break the kiss only to growl against her lips, "You're driving me fucking insane, and you don't even know it."

"I...I'm not trying to," she whispers, her breath coming in short gasps that make my control fray further.

"I know." And I do. That's part of her power over me—her complete unawareness of it. "That's what makes it worse."

I capture her mouth again, pouring six weeks of frustration and desire into the kiss. She responds with unexpected passion, her tongue meeting mine, her body arching slightly against me. The movement brings her hips into contact with mine, and I groan at the pressure against my still-sensitive flesh.

My hand slides down her side, feeling the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip. So small compared to me, so perfectly proportioned. I want to touch every inch of her, to map her body with my hands and mouth until I know her better than she knows herself.

"Tell me to stop," I murmur against her lips, giving her one last chance to end this. One last opportunity to walk away before I claim her completely.

Her eyes open, meeting mine with startling clarity. "I can't," she admits, the words a confession and a surrender.

That's all I need. My hand continues its journey, slipping beneath her sensible skirt, tracing the soft skin of her thigh. She trembles beneath my touch, her eyes widening as she realizes my intent.

"Here?" she gasps, glancing around the empty atrium.

"Here," I confirm, my fingers finding the edge of her panties. Simple cotton, practical like everything else about her outward appearance. But they're damp, betraying what her words won't say. "No one's here but us. And I need to touch you. Need to feel what I do to you."

Her head falls back against the glass as my fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready. The evidence ofher arousal nearly undoes me. I've fantasized about this moment countless times, but reality surpasses imagination. She's wet for me. Wet because of me.

"Damon," she moans, the first time she's used my given name. It's the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

I stroke her gently at first, learning her body, watching her face for reactions. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting as her breathing quickens. I memorize every expression, every tiny shift of pleasure across her features. This is mine. All mine.

"Look at me," I command softly. "I want to see your eyes when you come for me."

She obeys, her gaze locking with mine as I increase the pressure, the speed of my strokes. Her hips move against my hand, seeking more contact, more pressure. I give it to her, circling her most sensitive spot with practiced precision.

"That's it," I encourage as her breathing becomes erratic. "Let go, Lucy. Let me see you."

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her body tensing as she approaches the edge. I press her more firmly against the glass, my free hand cradling the back of her head to protect her as she writhes beneath my touch.

"I can't," she gasps, not in refusal but in disbelief at the intensity of her response. "I’ve never…It's too much."

My cock surges to full mast at the confirmation that she’s a virgin. That no other man has ever touched her.

That this sweet, innocent angel will be completely mine in every fucking way.

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