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I push to my feet, and my palm slips under her hair, her neck warm to my touch as I tilt her gaze to mine. “You’re all mine,” I repeat, and even to my own ears, my voice is gravelly emotion. And silently, I add, and my father will soon know what that means in a way he will never forget.
She pushes to her toes and presses her lips to mine a lingering moment before she says, “I always have been.” Her breath is not nearly as warm as her words.
My hand presses between her shoulder blades, and I mold her to me. “And I have always been yours.”
She laughs at this and splays her fingers on my jaw. “Liar,” she accuses.
“Oh, come on, woman. I was trying to get you naked a long time before you ever let me. I always wanted you, but I’m not sure I’ve ever deserved you—”
She tries to pull back. “Damion—”
“Until now, baby. Until now. Because I’m done with all other options.”
I can almost feel her internal sigh, aware now of just how worried she is over my self-blame, and she’s not wrong. It drove too many of my decisions, kept us apart, and still failed to protect her and her family. “Show me,” she whispers. “And give me something else to think about but that damn dark room.”
“You sure about that, baby? You had a rough day.”
“Very. Are you really going to let me stand here naked and do nothing?”
I lean in and kiss her, my mouth brushing over hers, my lips lingering over hers, and my tongue caressing her tongue. “Did I ever tell you you taste like whiskey?”
She laughs. “What? How? I only drink whiskey when you talk me into it.”
“But you were that night you finally went home with me. And we both tasted like it. I’ve never forgotten that. I’ve never forgotten anything about that night, replaying everything I did to you, everything I wanted to do again. And now, I can.” I kiss her neck, inhaling her sweet, floral scent, my lips at her ear as I add, “And I think I will.”
She shivers with the heat of my breath and my words, her fingers flexing on my shoulders, wordless reactions followed by a whispered, “Damion,” that I feel in the stretch of my cock against my zipper, and the burn of desire in my blood.
My hands settle at her waist and travel over the silk of her body, and I cup her lush, high breasts, my thumbs stroking the already stiff peaks of her nipples. She grips my arms and pants, and I scoop her perfect, perky butt and squeeze. “Maybe we should get married right here in front of this window,” I suggest. “Then everyone else can eat cake and drink champagne while we share a secret, thinking about all the naughty things we did here.”
She laughs, the sound is as delicate and shy as it is raspy and sexy as hell. “Maybe we should,” she says. “Our little secret.”
I cup her head and kiss her, claim her, drink her in like a man on the brink of death without her, and she moans into my mouth, pressing into me. I step her back against the railing and tangle my fingers into her hair, dragging her gaze to mine. “Our little secret,” I murmur.
A smile tugs at the corner of her swollen lips. “We always had our little secrets, remember?”
She’s talking about all the times I snuck out and came to her. I’d climb through her window with junk food in hand and the kiss I longed to steal, and she’d checked me every damn time. “Me and my fucking blue balls remember all too well.”
She snorts out a cute little laugh that makes my cock twitch and almost rips my heart from my chest. My mouth closes over hers, drinking her in, drinking her in all over again. “I would have burned down the world if I lost you. I would not have been okay. I was never okay without you, Alana. I need you to know that.”
Her hand presses to my face, and she whispers, “I know.”
“Do you? I need you to really know, Alana. Because if you knew, you wouldn’t have thought leaving me was the answer. We’re getting married. We’re doing this together. Say it.”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Say it, Alana.”
“We’re getting married. We’re doing this together. And I was never okay without you, either. Not even a little bit.”
I kiss her again, hard and fast, and then scoop her up in my arms, cradling her to my body, and carrying her toward the bedroom. There was a time when I wanted her in my bed. Now I want her in our bed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Damion
The bedside lamp casts a dim glow across the room as I gently lay Alana on the bed and lean over her. “I’m going to undress. I don’t want anything between us.” It’s my way of telling her tonight isn’t about control or the games we play. It’s about us, just us, and everything she means to me.
Her fingers brush my face, a delicate touch, before she presses a soft palm to my cheek. I lean into the gentle touch, feeling her in a way that I didn’t know possible, and it’s not about sex, though I’m hot and hard, my body raging for her. I absorb the feel of her against me as if it’s the answer to why I live and breathe. She’s damn sure the only reason I’m still human.
