Page 63 of Damian
He lifted me in one brutal, fluid motion, my back pressed harder against the wall, my legs locking around his waist. His body thrust into mine with a groan so guttural it shook me. The sting gave way to a molten rush, the water rushing over us as he filled me, deep and relentless.
I clung to him, nails biting into his back, muffling my cry against his shoulder. He moved like a man starved, each thrust harder, deeper, as though trying to erase the distance of every mission, every gunshot, every second I’d spent wondering if he’d come back.
“Mine,” he bit out against my throat. His teeth grazed, then soothed with a kiss. “No matter what, you’re mine.”
“Yes,” I gasped, rolling my hips to meet him, needing more, needing everything. “Always yours.”
Water sluiced between us, the sound of skin against skin lost in the roar of the shower and the ragged symphony of our breathing. His hand slid down, between us, fingers finding me where I was already slick and aching for him. Thetouch sent me spiraling, my body clenching around him, and his curse cracked sharp in my ear.
He drove harder, faster, until the coil in my belly snapped, heat flooding me as I cried out his name. My release dragged him with me, his rhythm faltering, his body slamming once, twice more before he buried himself deep and shuddered. He groaned into my neck, my name spilling from his lips like a vow.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Water washed over us, cooling the fire we’d lit, rinsing the blood and sweat and the weight of what we’d survived. He held me pinned to the wall, his chest pressed to mine, his heart pounding wild against my ribs.
Finally, he lowered me to my feet, steadying me with a hand at my waist when my knees threatened to give out. His forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged.
“I came back,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I’ll always come back.”
When the water finally cooled,he twisted the knob off, both of us trembling, breathless. I caught a towel and wrapped it around him before tending his wounds, gentle now, pressing fresh bandages over angry cuts. He had stitches in his shoulder from a gunshot wound. He let me, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them.
“You’re going to scar,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along his ribs.
“As long as I make it back to you, I don’t care how many, scars I have.” His hand covered mine.
I kissed the new bandage, then his throat, then his mouth—slow, lingering. “You kept your promise,” I whispered.
He pulled me onto his lap at the edge of the bed, ignoringthe pull of his side, wrapping me tight. “Every shot I fired, every step I took—I only thought about getting back to you.”
Tears spilled, and he caught one with his thumb. “And you did,” I said, pressing my forehead to his.
We stretched out together, his arm a heavy, unbreakable band around me. Outside, the world still burned with danger, but here—in the circle of his arms, his breath warm against my hair—I finally let myself believe I was safe.
“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
And with his heartbeat steady against my back, I did.
85
Damian
Sleep didn’t come.
Morgan’s breathing was steady, soft against my chest, her body warm and curled into mine. I checked on Ruby and she was still sleeping.
But my eyes stayed open, fixed on the ceiling, my arm locked tight around the woman beside me.
Every shot, every scream from the warehouse replayed in my head. The stairwell, the servers, the heat of gunfire sparking against steel—it all should’ve killed us. I could still feel the burn of the bullet that tore across my shoulder, the hot sting at my ribs. And I could still hear her voice in my head, the one thing that dragged me through it all.
Come back to me.
I looked down at her now, the curve of her face softened by sleep, damp hair clinging to her cheek from the shower. She’d tended me without hesitation, patched wounds like they were hers to carry, and then loved me like there was no tomorrow. That was the part that undid me most—the way she’d given me something to fight for when the world only ever asked me to kill.
I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, careful not to wake her. My fingers lingered at her temple, my thumb tracing the outline of her cheek. She stirred but didn’t wake, her lips parting on a sigh that sounded a lot like my name.
I swallowed hard.
Oliver, Gage, Cyclone—they could handle the data, the coordination, the chase. But me? My mission was right here. Keeping her safe. Keeping Ruby safe. No matter what Luthor threw our way, no matter how deep his network ran, I’d cut through every last one of his men if it meant they’d never touch her.
The promise I’d made at the start—the one I’d whispered against her lips before we ever kissed in front of the others—anchored itself deeper than ever.
