Page 34 of The Billionaire's Obsession

"I love you," I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me. "I love you, and I'll never leave you."

The words break something open in him. His control shatters, his movements becoming desperate, primal. "Mine," he growls against my throat. "Say it."

"Yours," I promise, wrapping my legs around his waist to take him deeper. "Only yours. Always yours."

Damon lets out a strangled sound as he sheathes his cock deep inside me. I feel a jet of precum spray into me and he curses.

"I won't last," Damon grits out, his hips stuttering against mine. "Not after thinking I'd lost you."

His vulnerability only heightens my desire, knowing this powerful man loses control because of me—only me. I arch up, meeting his thrusts, deliberately clenching around him to drive him closer to the edge.

"Then don't," I whisper against his ear. "Let go for me."

He makes a sound like he's being torn apart, his rhythm faltering as he drives into me with desperate need. His grip on my wrists tightens almost painfully, but I welcome it—physical proof of his possession, his desperation.

"Lucy—" My name breaks in his throat as he comes, his entire body shuddering against mine. The heat of him fills me, marking me from the inside in the most primal way. It triggers my own release, which only makes Damon come harder.

“Oh fuck yes, sweet baby, come all over your man’s cock. Let me feel you falling apart for me, honey.”

The intensity in his face, the raw emotion as he loses himself inside me, pushes me over the edge again. I cry out his name as pleasure crashes through me, my body clutching at his, milking him dry as we fall together.

Afterward, he doesn't roll away. Instead, he stays buried inside me, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a waythat feels like shelter rather than confinement. His breath comes in ragged pants against my neck, his heart hammering against mine. I stroke his back, feeling the dampness of exertion on his skin, tracing the powerful muscles now relaxed beneath my touch.

We stay like that for a long time, connected in the most intimate way, neither of us willing to break the physical bond. When Damon finally shifts his weight, he doesn't withdraw completely—just enough to look down at my face, his eyes tracing every feature like he's memorizing me.

"I meant it," he says, voice still rough from our lovemaking. "Every word. The ring. The baby. All of it."

I reach up to smooth his tousled hair, letting my fingers linger against his scalp. "I know you did. And I meant my answer."

Something soft and vulnerable crosses Damon's face as he rolls to the side, pulling me against him. His arms cage me protectively, one hand splayed possessively across my lower belly.

"I'll call my jeweler today," he murmurs against my temple, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "I want that ring on your finger by tonight."

A small, practical part of me—the part that used to count pennies for ramen—wants to protest the extravagance, the rush. But that voice grows fainter every day I spend with Damon.

I tuck myself closer into Damon's side, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. The morning's panic seems like a distant memory now, replaced by a bone-deep certainty that settles into me like truth.

"I don't need an expensive ring," I say, tracing patterns on his chest. "I just need you."

His hand tightens on my hip. "You have me. You've had me since the moment you looked at me at that gala."

I smile against his skin. “I guess you had me too.”

EPILOGUE

Three years later

Damon

I watchLucy from across our office, my gaze locked on the gentle swell of her belly visible beneath her fitted dress. Three years of marriage, and still the sight of her steals my breath. Now she carries my child, and the possessive heat that burns through me at the thought is almost unbearable. My pregnant wife. My partner in every sense.Mine.

She's at her desk, brow furrowed as she reviews contracts for our consulting firm—the business that once was just mine but now thrives under our joint leadership. Her fingers tap rhythmically against the keyboard, and occasionally she brushes back a strand of hair that falls across her face. Even these small movements mesmerize me. Three years together, and I still can't look away.

"You're staring again," she says without looking up, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Can you blame me?" The words rumble from my chest, husky with desire.

Lucy finally raises her eyes to meet mine, and that familiar electricity sparks between us. Her cheeks flush pink, the same shade that now seems to permanently color her skin since the pregnancy. Five months along, and she's never been more beautiful.

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