Chapter 55 Mine
DAMIEN
I watched her from the corner of my eye while keeping most of my attention on the road.
It should have been easy. Driving was something I had done thousands of times, through chaos and through calm, through danger and through routine.
But tonight, with her in the passenger seat of my car, so close I could almost feel the warmth of her body without touching her, it was proving far more difficult than it had any right to be.
She sat there quietly, the city lights sliding across her face as we passed them, her reflection moving in the glass of the window. Every time I glanced at her, my chest tightened with something unfamiliar and unsettling.
Even now, the memory of her in my arms on the dance floor refused to leave me.
When I had pulled her toward me earlier, guiding her across the polished floor and into the circle of my arms, my body had reacted before my mind could. Her shoulders had relaxed almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for permission to let go of every fear she carried.
The tension she always wore like armor had melted away, and for those few minutes, she had belonged only to the music and to me.
She had looked so damn beautiful.
Not just in the dress—though that dress had been a dangerous thing in itself—but in the way she moved, in the way she trusted me enough to let me lead her. She had fit against me as if she had always been meant to stand there, as if my arms had been shaped with her in mind.
And she was mine.
That thought had sent a strange, possessive thrill through me. One I did not bother to fight.
I had seen the hesitation in every step she took, the uncertainty in the way her fingers curled against my shoulder, the way her breath caught whenever I drew her closer. So I had decided to push just enough to make her feel it—to make her aware of how deeply she affected me.
I liked the color that bloomed in her cheeks when she was flustered.
I liked the way her eyes softened when she forgot herself.
Her sweet scent had wrapped around me as we danced, intoxicating and warm, until I could barely think straight. For those moments, nothing else existed. Not the crowd. Not the world outside those walls. Only her body against mine and the quiet rhythm of the music guiding us together.
She had no idea what she did to me.
I had always been a man of control—quiet power, careful calculation, a presence that unsettled others because it did not need to shout to be felt. Men feared me. Women approached me cautiously. I had built my life on restraint and precision.
But with her… all of that unraveled.
Nothing made sense anymore. And worse—nothing needed to.
She was all I wanted in that moment. All I needed.
She was mine.
Whether she understood it yet or not.
And when she had finally allowed me to kiss her, when she had nodded and met me halfway, I felt something inside me fracture completely.
Her lips had been soft and warm, trembling just slightly beneath mine. I had tasted sweetness—dessert and something uniquely her—and the world had narrowed to that single point of contact.
Her body had leaned into mine as though she trusted me with everything she was.
I had wanted more. Far more than I allowed myself to show.
But we were in public. And she was still fragile in ways she did not yet admit.
So I had restrained myself, content for the moment to memorize the shape of her mouth, the sound of her breath, the way she clung to me as if the music itself depended on our closeness.
Then the applause had shattered our little world.
She had pulled back first, cheeks burning, eyes wide and shy. And I had smiled, because it was always so easy to read her emotions. She wore them openly, beautifully, without knowing how much power that gave her over me.
Now, driving through the quiet streets, that kiss still lingered on my mind like a ghost.
I glanced at her again.
Somewhere between the restaurant and home, she had fallen asleep.
Her head leaned against the window, curls spilling across her cheek and brushing her lips. Her lashes fanned softly against her skin, and her mouth—those lips that had tasted like vanilla and heat—were slightly parted in sleep.
I felt something warm twist in my chest.
A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.
She looked peaceful. Vulnerable. Nothing like the anxious woman who kept running from shadows I did not yet understand.
The car slowed as we reached the gate.
I parked in front of the house and turned off the engine, the sudden quiet ringing loudly in my ears. I unfastened my seatbelt but did not move right away.
Instead, I watched her.
The streetlights cast a faint glow across her face, making her look almost unreal. Slowly, carefully, I reached out and brushed her curls back from her eyes, tucking them behind her ear.
She stirred but did not wake.
My hand lingered there longer than necessary.
When I finally stepped out of the car and moved to her side, I opened the door gently.
The moment I did, her body tilted forward, having been resting against it.
I caught her instinctively, pulling her into my arms before she could fall.
She didn’t wake.
Instead, she snuggled closer, curling into my chest as though this was where she belonged.
My heart stopped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I stood there holding her, stunned by the simplicity of the moment and the weight of it.
She was so light in my arms. So warm. Her breath brushed against my collarbone, and her fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of my jacket.
.
“You’re killing me, tesoro,” I whispered under my breath.
She smelled like wine and vanilla and something faintly floral. My senses were filled with her, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
As I carried her toward the house, I heard the sound of another car engine starting outside the gate. I turned just in time to see Ray’s car pulling away.
My jaw tightened.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I muttered to myself.
Inside the house, the silence wrapped around us. I climbed the stairs carefully, adjusting my grip so she wouldn’t wake. Her hand clutched my shirt as if she feared I might disappear.
I did not take her to her room.
I was not a gentleman. I was greedy.
And I wanted her scent in my space. I wanted to know what it felt like to have her in my bed, even if only in sleep.
I opened the door to my room and stepped inside, lowering her gently onto the mattress.
But she didn’t let go.
Her grip tightened, pulling me down with her until my face hovered inches above hers.
Her eyes were still closed, her breathing slow and even.