Page 40 of His Secret Merger

“So,” I said, breaking the quiet before it broke me. “Still grumpy?”

He smiled — slow and lethal, the kind that belonged behind a locked door. “Less grumpy. More... opportunistic.”

My mouth curved. “Opportunistic, how?”

He turned and pulled something from his jacket pocket and turned to me. The crinkle of a small pharmacy bag made my heart skip before my brain could catch up. Damian tipped its contents into his hands and closed his fists. Then held them out toward me, like a magician about to force a card.

“Pick a hand,” he said, his voice a shade rougher than it had been a moment ago.

I laughed, low and disbelieving. “You are unbelievable.”

“Not denying it.” His grin deepened. “Pick.”

I hesitated—deliberately—dragging my gaze from one of his hands to the other. The air between us stretched tight, electric. Finally, I tapped his right hand with one finger. He opened it slowly, palm up. A small, silver square gleamed in the soft light.

Condom.

My pulse kicked once, hard. Damian’s gaze caught mine, steady, direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“And if I’d picked the other?” I asked, even though I already knew.

He tossed the bottle of Advil onto the coffee table behind him without looking. "Then I would’ve used my mouth," he said, voice rough against my ear. "My hands. I would’ve made you come until you forgot we ever had a choice to make. Why tempt fate?" His gaze dragged over my mouth, my throat, then lower. "But I'm not feeling particularly patient tonight."

Heat coiled deep in my belly.

I plucked the condom from his palm without breaking eye contact, slipped it into the back pocket of my slacks, and turned my back on him deliberately—a dare—as I shrugged out of my blazer and laid it over the armchair.

Behind me, Damian’s breath caught.

I toed off my shoes slowly, feeling the thick carpet under my bare feet, the pull of his gaze dragging over every inch of skin I uncovered. When I turned back around, he was still standing there, looking at me like he was starving.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then he crossed the distance between us in two strides, his hands sliding up my arms, his fingers threading into my hair as he tipped my face up to his.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, even as his thumb stroked the edge of my jaw.

I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Instead, I rose onto my toes and kissed him—hard, hungry, the kind of kiss that rewrote everything we hadn’t said today and everything we were about to say with our bodies.

Damian’s hands tightened. Mine pulled at his shirt. Control? We shattered it between us like glass. Tonight wasn’t about patience. It was about claiming something we’d both been pretending we didn’t want as badly as we did.

And God help me, I wanted all of it.

I laughed under my breath, the kind of laugh you make when your heart’s already pounding in your throat and you know you’re about five seconds from doing something reckless, and loving every second of it.

God, he was beautiful. Not polished. Not pretty. Raw. Real.

Damian was dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with money and everything to do with the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the room worth wanting.

I let my hands fall to my sides, and his fingers found the first button at my collar. He grazed my skin as he worked his way down. Each brush of his knuckles against my ribs made me shiver.

When my blouse parted, he pushed it from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor without ceremony. His mouth found the curve of my neck, dragging heat down my spine.

"You’re still wearing too much,” he murmured against my skin.

“So are you,” I breathed.

I felt the weight of it in my back pocket—the condom I’d tucked there minutes ago like it was some kind of secret promise. The decision had already been made. A line I was more than willing to cross.

Damian’s gaze dropped to my hips, lingering like he could feel it too. For a second, neither of us moved. Then I reached behind me, slow and deliberate, and slid it out. The foil packet crinkled between my fingers.

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