Chapter 110 "D"
JASMINE
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice suddenly higher, almost anxious.
I giggled. “I want to change into my robe.”
He shook his head immediately. “Damien,” I warned.
“Wear my shirt,” he pleaded, his eyes widening dramatically like a begging puppy. Honestly, he had gotten very good at this tactic. “Please?”
I sighed. “…Fine.”
The grin that spread across his face could have powered a city. He scooped me up again and carried me toward the closet like a child who had just won the lottery.
Once inside, he set me down gently and disappeared deeper into the wardrobe. I leaned against the bed, watching him rummage through hangers.
Moments later he returned holding a large black round-neck shirt. Large was an understatement.
It was at least three sizes too big. I stared at it, then at him, then back at the shirt. “You’re serious?”
He nodded proudly. I laughed, shaking my head as I took it from him. Standing from the bed, I walked toward the bathroom. His fingers caught my wrist again.
I looked back at him.
He shook his head stubbornly, his messy dark hair bouncing. “Change here.”
“No way,” I said firmly. “If I do that we won’t end up going to the spa.” His eyes slowly dragged down my body. The way he looked at me made heat creep up my neck.
He was clearly considering my words.
Or more accurately… ignoring them. Suddenly his arms wrapped around me and pulled me against his chest. His hand slipped beneath my top, brushing the bare curve of my back.
The contact made my breath hitch.
My skin burned under his touch.
“I don’t mind,” he murmured against my ear, his voice lower now. Dangerously lower. “As long as it’s you.”
Before I could respond, his fingers hooked under the hem of my singlet and lifted it slowly. I raised my arms automatically. The fabric slid upward, leaving me bare from the waist up.
A blush flooded my cheeks.
Damien’s gaze dropped instantly. Straight to my breasts. His eyes darkened. I had the sudden urge to cover myself… but the raw hunger in his expression stopped me. His head dipped toward my collarbone.
He pressed a slow kiss there.
My head fell back as a shaky breath escaped me.
His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. He kissed upward along my shoulder… my throat… the delicate skin beneath my ear.
Then he gently nibbled.
A soft gasp escaped my lips.
He inhaled my scent like it was intoxicating.
When he finally lifted his face again, his gaze was filled with something deep.
Something powerful.
Love.
Pure and unmistakable.
He kissed the corner of my mouth.
Then my jaw.
My cheek.
My eyelids.
My body ached for his lips to meet mine properly.
It was torture. My fingers slipped into his hair, gripping the soft strands. He sucked lightly on my neck and ran his tongue along the sensitive skin.
A moan slipped out before I could stop it. Finally he lifted his face to mine.
Our eyes locked.
His gaze was intense… overflowing with emotion.
Then he kissed me.
Soft.
Slow.
My lips moved against his instinctively.
His tongue brushed my lower lip.
I parted my mouth. He deepened the kiss, exploring slowly, tasting every inch.
My head spun. The kiss stretched until breathing became impossible. When we finally pulled apart, we rested our foreheads together, breathing heavily. His eyes searched mine.
Then he reached for the shirt and gently pulled it over my head. The large fabric fell down my body, stopping mid-thigh.
I smiled. “I know you don’t like lavish celebrations,” I said softly, chewing my lip nervously.
“But I hope this is enough.”
I lifted my left hand.
His gaze followed, and froze, my ring finger.
Tattooed.
The initials of his name "D" for Damien, his eyes widened. For a moment he didn’t speak. Then slowly he took my hand. He lifted it to his lips.
And kissed the tattoo.
His eyes glistened slightly. “Now,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “even if I don’t wear a ring… your name will always stay close to my heart.”
For a moment he didn’t move. Then suddenly he pulled me into a tight embrace. His face buried in my neck. “Thank you,” he whispered.
LATER
“Put this on, Damien.” I tossed his clothes toward him while digging through my closet for something to wear.
He caught them easily, watching me with a lazy smile. I turned with a dress in my hand, silently asking his opinion. His eyes traveled from the dress… to me… then back again.
A slow smirk formed. “It’s gorgeous, baby.”
His voice dropped slightly. “Although anything you wear would look ravishing on you. My favorite color has never looked better.”
I beamed. “You better be dressed when I come out,” I warned before slipping into the bathroom.
Time was ticking.
Only thirty minutes until six. The venue wasn’t far… but traffic could ruin everything.
Most importantly— Damien still had absolutely no idea about the party. As far as he knew, Darcy had simply gifted him dinner reservations. And he would never refuse his mother.
Perfect.
I slipped into the spaghetti-strap dress.
The cobalt blue fabric hugged my curves perfectly. It was Damien’s favorite color.
When I stepped back into the room, he was already dressed.
My breath caught.
The sight of him was unfair.
He wore an all-black suit that clung to his tall frame like it had been tailored by the gods themselves.
Black t shirt, blue blazer, black trousers.
My eyes slowly drifted downward… then paused.
“Is that—?” I pointed.
His wrist.
He smirked proudly.
Wrapped around it was the bra-strap bracelet I had once jokingly given him. “Of course it is,” he said. “I’m wearing it so everyone knows I belong to someone.” His eyes swept over me slowly.
“And no one could ever compare to this goddess.”
Heat rushed to my face. He pulled me into his chest again. Then his gaze dropped down my body.
His breathing changed. “Fuck, tesoro…” he murmured. “Are you trying to make me lose control and shred that dress apart?”
His voice was rough.
Hungry.