Page 44 of The Founder's Power

And when we finally shatter, it’s not just release. It’s a reckoning. A surrender. A vow.

After, we don’t move for a long time.

He cradles me against his chest, his hands moving slowly down my back, over the places he’s just learned for the second time.

This was never just about need. It was about finding our home, and we’re finally letting ourselves live in it.

CHAPTER22

ISABELLE

The city is quiet. Muted sunlight spills through the slats of the blinds, brushing golden lines across Damian’s bare chest as he sleeps beneath me on his bed at his penthouse. One arm is draped around my waist, the other curled under his head, his jaw still shadowed with sleep.

He looks younger this way. Less guarded. Like the man he was before power taught him how to hide behind silence and steel.

I trace the curve of his shoulder with my fingertips, soft and slow, and he stirs beneath my touch. His eyes don’t open right away, but a smile ghosts across his lips.

“Isabelle,” he murmurs.

“Still here,” I whisper.

His eyes flutter open—hazy, warm, searching for me—and when they find me, something settles in his chest.

He reaches for me, hands gentle on my hips, but I press mine over his, steadying him.

This time, I move. I straddle him, knees tucked on either side of his waist, the sheets falling down my back. He goes still, his eyes wide, reverent, lips slightly parted.

I lean down and kiss him unhurriedly.

He kisses me back like I’m something holy.

Slowly, deliberately, I begin to move.

His hands grip my thighs, not to control but to anchor. His gaze never leaves mine. It’s not just about sex. It’s about connection. It’s about letting myself be seen and giving him the space to feel—not dominate or strategize but feel.

I ride him with tenderness and power, with love and intention.

And the way he moans beneath me—deep and quiet, like I’ve broken something open inside him—makes every part of me ache.

I lean forward, our chests brushing, our mouths inches apart.

“I want to be part of your world,” I whisper. “Not to fix you. Not to save you. Just to stand beside you.”

His hands tighten on my waist. “You already are,” he breathes.

We move together, finding a rhythm that’s more about emotion than release, and when it finally overtakes us, when we shatter all over again, it’s not frantic or wild.

It’s everything I could’ve asked for.

I collapse over his chest, and he wraps his arms around me like he never wants to let go.

Neither do I.

* * *

Damian invitesme to join him in the office after we eat. A lot. So much food. We worked up an appetite, let’s just say.

We’re not in the office long at all before there’s a sharp, urgent knock on the office door.

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