Page 105 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

CHAPTER NINE

I F HEARTS ACTUALLY brOKE , that was what Damian had witnessed in Carmel tonight. He could be as cynical as he wanted to be about her, but she had a conscience and it tortured her. The fact she’d felt that deeply about scorning him had impacted him profoundly.

He hadn’t realized how much power he had over her. It was unnerving.

That’s why he had balked at kissing her. He thought about sex with her constantly, certain it would be as good as he remembered it, but when they’d had a veil of bitterness between them, he’d been able to keep himself from going down that dangerous road.

After her storm of weeping, though, she’d drifted to sleep.

All her deliciously soft curves had pressed into him, especially the curves of her ass in his lap.

He’d already been drunk on the feminine fragrances of her shampoo and perfume.

Arousal and fantasies had started to take root, so he’d thought he’d better put her to bed before he did anything stupid.

Then she’d awakened and stood before him with her eyes full of laughter instead of tears. She’d been bouncing back with a resilience that was awe-inspiring. The attraction he’d been fighting had nearly overwhelmed him.

He could hurt her, though. A week ago, he would have reveled in the knowledge he could do so. Now, he was shaken to realize how easily he could destroy her. And what a crime it would be to crush someone who was working so hard to come back from the battles of life.

He peeled off his jacket and threw his bow tie away, then toed off his shoes. Without thinking, he moved to the wet bar, only realizing he was looking for liquor when he didn’t find anything except soft drinks.

Go downstairs to the bar? Some distance from the temptation of Carmel would be a good idea, but as much as he wanted the bite of alcohol on his tongue, he liked the sense of solidarity in staying sober with her.

Maybe it had no effect on her at all, but he felt like he was supporting her by not drinking, so it was important to him to maintain that.

Her door opened and she came into the lounge.

“Oh.” Her face was dewy and clean, her hair in a clip.

She wore a silk robe in peacock blue with pink flowers splashed across it.

“I thought you were going to bed, too.” She moved directly to the shoulder bag she’d left on a side table and dug through it.

“I think I left my book on the plane. That’s annoying. ”

“The one about the guy deflowering a virgin?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. That happens in all the books I read.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged his mouth.

“Don’t be a snob. Romance is uplifting and hopeful and gives me the happy ending I crave.” She shot him a sly look. “Read into that however you like.”

He barked out a laugh. “You have no shame, do you?”

“Why would I have shame about it? I’ve already told you, I don’t have a sex life to speak of. Let me have this.” She pushed the purse away in disgust. “Although, not tonight, evidently.”

“You don’t have anything on your phone?”

“I do, but I prefer physical books. Less chance of doomscrolling.” Her shrug drew his eye to the way the silk cradled her unfettered breasts so lovingly.

He made himself look away and ignored the tug of raw, physical need that rang through him.

“Okay, I’m going to take this elephant by the trunk .” She let the significance of her word choice hang in the air a moment. “I can’t help being attracted to you—”

He had to look at her then and watched her falter slightly. She looked down as she played with the tail of her robe’s belt.

“But we’re in a really good place right now. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Same.” Damn it.

“I’m going back to London after Zoia’s surgery. This reconciliation isn’t real .”

“Exactly. I don’t want to mislead you.”

“And I don’t want to be impulsive and self-destructive. I want to be sensible. And disciplined. As if that’s a color I’ve ever worn, but… I do.”

“Good.” He swallowed his disappointment and said with a dry throat, “I support you in that.”

“But I still want to feel it again,” she said in a helpless voice, shoulders sloping.

“What?”

“Pleasure.” She shrugged. “And it’s okay that you don’t want me—”

“I never said that.” His voice had dropped into the pit of his belly, where all his good sense was tangling in a net of growing desire.

“Would it be so bad? If we agreed it’s just for now?” she asked in a voice so quiet and hesitant, he had to strain to hear it. So he had to move closer.

His feet just kept taking him toward her until he had her face in his hands and his mouth found hers and sensations crashed over him. Relief and hunger. Unleashed desire and a need to be careful. Incredible possessiveness even as he reminded himself it was temporary.

Just for now.

Carmel was startled at the way he had swooped onto her, but she slid her arms around his neck and opened her mouth beneath the ravenous scrape of his.

Her heart was exploding with delirious joy and her back bowed over the arm that locked behind her.

She went on tiptoe, trying to increase the pressure of their kiss, but he lifted his head.

“Don’t stop. Please, Damian,” she begged in a whisper.

He swung her up into his arms and walked toward his bedroom.

Dizziness accosted her. She hugged his neck and pressed her lips into his throat, kissing her way up to his earlobe and setting her teeth there.

His arms tightened and his chest swelled in response, then he set her on the bed and came down with her, supporting himself on an elbow as his free hand tugged at her slippery belt.

“All I do is steal looks at you,” he admitted as he brushed aside the silk, exposing her torso and abdomen and thighs. “Do you know how hard it was to say no to you on the stairs? To say it tonight ? There hasn’t been anyone else for me either.”

He cupped her breast and started to dip his head to brush his lips against the turgid pink nipple.

“Wait.” She cupped his head and looked deep into eyes that shifted with shadows of self-consciousness. “Really? Why not? ”

“Because I wanted you. This.” He teased her with a damp kiss, a circle of his tongue. A gradual enveloping that had her combing her fingers into his springy hair, drawing him down while she arched herself into his mouth.

The light suction nearly lifted her off the bed. Maybe it was the knowledge that they had both been celibate for five long years. Surely that meant something?

Her mind couldn’t land on a meaning when electric sensations forked into her loins, though. His hand flattened on her belly, then swept low to caress her inner thighs, stealing her last clear thoughts.

“Pale as whipping cream here,” he murmured, lifting his head to watch his own hand caress her inner thighs. It was a tease, provoking heat and dampness and yearning to gather in her folds. “All I think about is the honey here.”

She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but her hands were shaking and his knowing touch slid to her center, parting and spreading the abundant moisture, brushing the knot of nerves, sweeping her into a deeper level of desire.

Her fists curled into the fine fabric. With a sob, she yanked at it, tearing button holes, seeking the satin heat and mahogany smoothness of his chest with her palms.

“Do you want this?” His fingers strummed again.

“Everything. All of you. Everywhere,” she gasped, growing urgent.

“Good.” He nipped at the point of her chin. His finger delved, sliding easily into her channel while he buried his mouth in her neck and delicately sucked.

She couldn’t stop the small climax that shuddered through her.

He lifted his head, but didn’t laugh at her. Raw lust glazed his eyes. His nostrils flared and he eased a second finger into her, watching her closely, ensuring the way she bit her lip was pure, erotic delight.

The noise he made was animalistic. He began to kiss his way down, lingering at her breast, unmindful of the way she was pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

He was on a mission and, unlike her, he was in no hurry.

His mouth trailed down to join the caress of his hand, claiming her in the most blatant way.

He tipped her thigh up, pinning it as he made love to her with his mouth and his fingers until another orgasm crashed through her, swift and powerful.

He didn’t stop. His fingers slid away, but he continued to soothe and incite with his clever tongue until her abdomen was taut and whimpers of fresh need were resounding in her throat.

Rearing up on his knees, he took in her weak, flagrant pose with a long look of dark satisfaction, until her fist curled self-consciously into the linen coverlet beneath her.

Then he moved off the bed.

The slap of rejection was so profound, she cried, “Don’t!” and scrambled to sit up.

“I need a condom.” His voice was graveled and raw, but the light brush of his touch on her jaw was tender. “Wait here.”

He threw his shirt off as he walked into the bathroom.

She ducked her hot face against her upraised knees, shivering in arousal and panicked reaction. In need.

This was what he had done to her five years ago—made her forget simple realities like birth control. He destroyed her ability to think clearly in the most delicious way, but he wasn’t as carried away as her. Not as quickly. Not as thoroughly.

And he stirred so much emotion in her. Not just those top-level feelings like attraction and arousal, interest and admiration.

No, he had always made himself felt in the deepest currents of her being, where she kept her fears and secret longings.

Where she wanted to feel someone close inside her. Where she wanted to be loved.

He walked back naked, bronzed and powerful as a living work of art.