Page 30 of Claimed By the Boss

Once the elevator doors slide shut behind us, it’s like we’re back in the car. His mouth is on me before I even catch my breath. This time, he presses me against the mirrored wall, his hands skating down my sides, his mouth rougher than before. I grip the back of his neck, my hips arching forward without permission.

“You’re going to ruin me,” I whisper.

His mouth brushes my ear. “That’s the idea.”

The elevator glides to a stop, but neither of us moves. He pulls back just long enough to press his thumb to a security panel. The doors open to a space I don’t have time to admire. I catch a glimpse of high ceilings, dark floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows. I think there’s a fireplace, and possibly a staircase. But he doesn’t give me any time to really take it in.

Damien guides me backward through the main room, never breaking eye contact, until the backs of my knees hit a couch I hadn’t seen. He kisses me again, one hand on my face, the other sliding down my back, gripping my waist to hold me steady.

I don’t even realize he’s unzipping my dress until it slips from my shoulders.

My hands are already under his shirt, dragging it free from his waistband, nails lightly raking his stomach. His breath hitches,and something shifts between us. There’s far less patience and far more need.

He steps back just long enough to strip off his shirt and pull my dress the rest of the way off. I stand there in nothing but my underwear, my heels still on, and for the first time all night, he says nothing.

He just looks at me.

I see it in his face, the hunger, the heat, the decision. He wants to take his time, but he also wants to ravage me. And I want that too, but before we can go any further, I know I have to warn him. I put a hand to his chest to keep him from kissing me.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say softly. “Before we go any further.”

His face shifts to concern, and he takes a small step back. He’s so damn respectful it almost makes me melt.

“You can tell me anything,” he responds earnestly.

“This is so stupid,” I huff. “But I’m a virgin.”

This clearly takes him by surprise. He stares at me for a moment before closing the distance between us again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his hand running cautiously down my arm.

“No,” I tell him quickly. “I definitely don’t want that. I just don’t want you to be disappointed or anything.”

He cocks his head at me and smirks in a way I don’t entirely understand.

“Lyra,” he nearly growls. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you were trying.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I wrap my arms around him and erase any space between us before murmuring, “Bedroom?”

He dips, catching the backs of my knees with his arm and picking me up bridal-style. I can’t help the girly laugh that slips out. He steals my breath. I start kissing his jaw as he carries us down a hall and into a dark room.

He lowers me onto a soft bed.

“We can go as slowly as you want,” he whispers against my skin.

I nod, suddenly very aware of how exposed I am in only my underwear, my body humming, my nerves pulled tight beneath my skin.

He just kisses me again. Softer now. Slower, like he’s savoring me.

He takes his time, setting a rhythm my body has never known but already wants to follow.

He kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then lower. His hands don’t wander. Not yet. He touches me with intention. No surprises. No pressure.

And that’s what makes me melt.

His mouth finds the hollow of my throat and lingers there. I close my eyes, one hand drifting up to tangle in his hair, the other clutching the edge of the sheets as if they’re the only thing keeping me grounded.

“Let me know if anything feels wrong,” he murmurs.