Chapter 207: Stuck In Our World

Damien’s POV

I exhaled and cleared my throat, aiming for calm but somehow landing on dramatic-romance-movie lead.

“I said…” I tried again, squaring my shoulders. “Will you do me the honor of being my baby…and my wife?”

This time, the words landed steady, bold, and unmistakably mine.

A tiny, watery laugh escaped her.

Tears welled up fast in her eyes…shiny, bright, spilling over before she could blink them back.

She nodded. Once. Twice. Then harder, like she couldn’t get the word out fast enough.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder, voice cracking with joy. “Yes, Damien. Yes.”

I lunged forward and crushed her against me…arms banding around her so tight I probably lifted her off her knees. She laughed through her tears, arms flying around my neck, legs wrapping around my waist like she never wanted to let go either.

I kissed her…deep, messy, tasting salt and happiness and everything we’d almost lost. My hands roamed her back, her hips, her ass, like I needed to memorize every inch all over again.

And yeah…my dick, the greedy bastard, was already hardening again, prodding insistently against her stomach, seeking her out like it had zero chill.

She felt it. Broke the kiss just enough to glance down, then back up at me with that wicked little spark in her eyes.

“Already?” she teased, voice husky.

“Can’t help it,” I growled against her mouth. “You just said yes to being mine forever. My brain short-circuited.”

She grinned…bright, beautiful, tear-streaked…and pushed me flat on my back.

I let her.

She straddled me in one smooth motion, hands braced on my chest. Her hair fell around us like a curtain.

“Then let me show you how much I mean it,” she whispered.

She reached between us, wrapped her fingers around me…firm, sure…and guided me right back to where I belonged.

One slow, deliberate slide down, and I was buried deep again.

We both groaned.

This time it wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. Worshipful. Every roll of her hips felt like a promise. I gripped her thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin, watching her face…watching the way her lips parted, the way her eyes fluttered half-closed every time she took me to the hilt.

“Fuck, baby,” I rasped. “You feel like home.”

She leaned down, kissed me slow and dirty while she rode me…deep grinds, tight circles, then long, dragging pulls that made my toes curl.

I flipped us again…couldn’t help it…pinned her beneath me and hooked her legs over my shoulders so I could go deeper, harder, hitting that spot that made her gasp my name like a prayer.

Her nails scored my back. Her heels dug into my shoulders. She arched, trembling, whispering, “Don’t stop…God, Damien, don’t stop—”

I didn’t.

I fucked her like I was claiming her all over again…raw, relentless, pouring every ounce of love and apology and hunger into every thrust.

When she started to clench…those perfect, fluttering pulses..I reached between us, thumb circling her clit in tight little strokes.

“Come for me, fiancée,” I growled against her ear. “Come all over your future husband.”

That did it.

She shattered…back bowing, her cry muffled against my shoulder, walls pulsing so hard I couldn’t hold back.

I followed right after…burying myself as deep as I could, coming hard, filling her again while she milked me dry.

We collapsed together, panting, laughing softly between kisses.

I stayed inside her…couldn’t bring myself to leave yet.

I brushed damp hair off her forehead, kissed the tip of her nose.

“Mrs. Voss,” I murmured, testing it out. Grinning like an idiot. “Mrs Isabella Voss.”

She smiled up at me…sleepy, sated and glowing.

“Mrs. Voss,” she echoed, voice soft and sure. “I like the sound of that.”

Then she pulled me down for one more slow kiss.

And just like that, the future didn’t feel scary anymore.

It felt like ours.

The next morning came soft and slow, sunlight slipping through the half-drawn curtains in lazy golden stripes across the rumpled sheets. Damien and Isabella hadn’t left the room since the night before..not for food, not for air, not for anything except each other. They’d talked, laughed, cried a little more, made love until exhaustion finally won, and then slept wrapped so tightly together it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

When they finally stirred, it was past eleven in the morning. Damien woke first, blinking at the ceiling, then turned his head to find Isabella already watching him with that soft, sleepy smile that made his chest ache in the best way. No words were needed. He just reached for her, kissed her slow and deep.

And just like that, they couldn’t control the need that came with the kiss. After the early morning sex, they stayed like that until hunger finally forced them out of bed.

She slipped into one of his white button-downs…sleeves rolled to her elbows, hem brushing mid-thigh, the fabric swallowing her small frame in the most unfairly sexy way. He tugged on gray sweat shorts and nothing else, hair still messy from her fingers, a faint red scratch visible on his shoulder where she’d held on too tight the night before.

They left the bedroom hand in hand, fingers laced, stealing glances at each other like teenagers who’d just discovered what kissing felt like. Every few steps he’d tug her closer for a quick peck, or she’d rise on her toes to brush her lips against his jaw, and they’d both dissolve into quiet, giddy laughter.

Halfway down the hall, Damien stopped, scooped her up without warning, and hoisted her against his chest. Isabella squealed…half surprise, half delight…then wrapped her legs around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her arms looped around his neck, face tucking into the warm crook where his shoulder met his throat. She breathed him in, content, while he carried her the rest of the way to the kitchen.

The house was quiet except for the low hum of voices drifting from the dining area. Damien didn’t notice. Neither did she.

He set her down gently on the counter beside the fridge, but she didn’t let go…legs still hooked loosely around him, chin resting on his shoulder now as he opened cabinets one-handed. Someone had already been through earlier: a big bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs sat covered on the stove, next to a stack of toasted sourdough, a platter of sliced avocado, fresh strawberries, and a pitcher of orange juice. Simple. Perfect.

He grabbed a single large plate, piled it high with eggs, avocado toast cut into triangles, a handful of berries, then poured two glasses of juice. Balancing everything with ridiculous ease, he turned back to her.

“From now on,” he said, voice low and serious even though his eyes were smiling, “I’m feeding you. You’ve lost weight these past couple days…too much stress, too little sleep, too much worrying about my dumb ass. I need you soft and full again. In all the right places.”

Isabella’s cheeks went pink. She ducked her head against his neck and giggled…shy, breathless, the sound muffled against his skin.

“Stop,” she whispered, but she was smiling so wide it hurt her cheeks.

He carried her…plate in one hand, her still clinging like a koala…into the dining room.

The long table was full.

Agnes sat at one end, fork paused halfway to her mouth. Ellie was beside her, eyes huge. Jace leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, one brow arched. Jaxon had his phone halfway to his lips like he’d forgotten he was about to take a sip of coffee. Andre was mid-bite of bacon, frozen. On the couch in the adjoining living room, the other guys…four of Damien’s crew…had their plates balanced on their knees, TV forgotten, jaws slack as they stared.

None of it registered.

Damien sat down in the nearest empty chair, Isabella still cradled in his lap, her back resting against the edge of the table so she faced him. He set the plate between them, picked up a forkful of eggs, and held it to her lips.

“Open,” he murmured.

She did…giggling again as she took the bite, then leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

He fed himself next, then her again…strawberry this time, juice staining her lips red. She licked it off slowly, eyes locked on his, and he groaned under his breath.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered.

“Good,” she whispered back, brushing her nose against his.

They kept going like that…giggling between bites, trading soft kisses, feeding each other like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

Across the table, Agnes finally set her fork down with a quiet clink.

“They can’t see us?” she asked the room in general. “Or are they intentionally trying to get a reaction?”

Ellie shook her head slowly, still staring. “They can’t see us. No way. Even if Damien was that far gone, Isabella would have died of embarrassment by now if she knew we were all watching.”

Jace snorted, leaning forward on his elbows. “Some people are just cavemen. Uncultured. Take me and Agnes, for instance…we’re very disciplined people.”

Agnes turned her head slowly to look at him, one eyebrow climbing.

“Disciplined?” she repeated, voice dangerously sweet. “Baby, I’m not disciplined. I would jump your bones anytime, anywhere. So you better start thinking about the kind of outfits you’re gonna be wearing from now on…because easy access is about to become your personality.”

Jace’s smug expression faltered. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Coughed.

Andre cleared his throat awkwardly. “Should we… just go? Give them some privacy?”

Jace scoffed, loud and dramatic. “Privacy, my ass. They invaded our space first like a couple of horny newlyweds acting like nobody else exists.” He slapped his palm down on the table hard enough to make plates rattle and juice slosh.

Isabella and Damien didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even notice that other people were with them. She was feeding him a strawberry now, giggling when he nipped her fingers.

Jaxon leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Should I just… shoot a gun in the air? Wake ’em up?”

Every head at the table snapped toward him.

“Dude,” Andre hissed.

“What?” Jaxon shrugged. “Worked in the movies.”

Agnes rolled her eyes, but a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.

“I know what to do,” she said quietly.

Everyone turned to her.

“What?” Ellie asked.

Agnes didn’t answer. She just pushed her chair back, stood up, and started walking toward the couple with that same mischievous glint in her eyes.