Page 58 of The Founder's Power

She smiles against my mouth. “See?” she whispers. “You didn’t miss a thing.”

Damn it, she’s right.

She’s still smiling when I pull her into my arms, but I see the flicker in her eyes. She expects me to roll out of bed and chase down the call.

Not this time.

I shift, rolling her beneath me, hands sliding under my shirt, the one she’s still wearing, barely buttoned, half-off one shoulder. I kiss the edge of her collarbone, the swell of her breast, and then the curve of her waist.

She looks up at me, breath soft. “You’re not answering it? Checking to see if there’s a voicemail or a text?”

I press my lips between her thighs. “No,” I murmur, kissing the soft skin there again, “because I made you a promise.”

My fingers part her slowly. Her breath hitches when I flatten my tongue and drag it across her, slow and firm.

“You remember what I said?” I ask.

She nods, already breathless. “You said… God?—”

I do it again, slower and deeper this time until her hips lift off the bed.

“I said I wouldn’t leave this bed,” I murmur against her, “until I made you come so hard you forgot I ever had a company.”

Her laugh turns into a moan when I suck gently on her clit, drawing soft circles with my tongue, letting her know I’m not playing this time.

This isn’t about teasing. It’s about keeping a promise.

She grips the sheets, gasping as I work her open, tongue deep, fingers stroking inside her now—firm, perfect pressure, exactly the way I’ve learned she loves it. Her legs shake, and her back arches. She tries to say my name, but it dies on her lips. Her body is trembling, unraveling, surrendering to the pressure building inside her. I don’t stop.

“I’m here,” I whisper when I feel her start to tip. “Let go for me, Isabelle.”

She shatters violently, beautifully. She comes with a cry that echoes off the walls, hips bucking, thighs clenching around my head, her body pulsing around my fingers like her soul’s leaving her for a second.

I hold her through all of it, every tremor, every breath.

When she finally collapses back into the bed, I crawl up beside her, kissing her lips, her cheek, her shoulder. She’s glowing, flushed and wild and absolutely undone.

I brush the hair from her face and whisper, “Now… do you remember what I used to do for a living?”

She laughs, the sound hoarse and happy, and shakes her head. “Not a clue.”

“Good,” I say, pulling her into my arms.

This, her and me together, is the only thing I want to be remembered for.

CHAPTER31

DAMIAN

We’re tangled together in the aftermath, limbs overlapping, skin still warm, breath finally starting to slow.

Her head rests on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach. I run my fingers slowly through her hair, savoring the silence, the calm, the impossible fullness I feel with her in my arms.

Bzzz… bzzz…

The old business phone again. It’s stopped and started half a dozen times now, insistent but ignored.

I tense.

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