(Sapphire's POV)
He left briefly, but when he came back in, the silence in the suite was suffocating.
The door had closed behind us with a soft, decisive click, but to me it sounded like the clanging
of a prison gate. The muffled echoes of the wedding reception below faded until all I could hear was my own frantic heartbeat.
I stood near the bed, clutching the edge of my gown, refusing to turn and face him. The scent of roses and candle wax filled the air, too sweet, too heavy. My body trembled under the weight of what I knew was coming.
Behind me, Damian moved with calm precision, like a predator stalking his prey. Loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. The rustling of fabric sliding off his skin seemed louder than the music we'd left behind.
"You're shaking," he said, his voice smooth, unreadable. It was not a question, but I answered anyway.
"I'm not," I lied.
His footsteps crossed the room. Slow. Measured.
"You think I don't notice the way your body reacts to me? Even now, when you claim to hate me, you're trembling."
I spun around, fury sparking in my chest.
"Because I don't want this! Not because I want you!" I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You don't want me?"
My throat dried. I should have said no. I should have screamed at him, but his gaze pinned me
in place, sharp and consuming, stripping away every layer of pretense.
"I don't want to belong to anyone," I managed with a scared gulp.
Damian's smirk faded. His eyes darkened, his expression hardening into steel.
"That's where you're wrong, my wife. You already do. You belong to me, Sapphire, and to only me." The last part of his sentence was a whisper.
Before I could retort, his hand shot out, curling around my waist. With one swift motion, he
pulled me flushed against him. My gasp caught in my throat as my palms collided with the solid wall of his chest.
Okay, this man obviously worked out for a living.
My veil slipped, falling to the floor like an abandoned ghost at our feet.
"Let me go," I struggled, though my fists remained pressed uselessly against him.
Instead of doing as I had asked, his fingers traced the line of my spine through the silk of my gown, a feather-light touch that sent fire racing across my nerves. He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.
"No," he murmured. "I think I'll keep you right here."
His lips brushed my jaw, a ghost of a kiss. My breath hitched. I hated that my body betrayed me, arching ever so slightly toward him, craving more even as my mind screamed stop.
For who to stop exactly, I had no idea. Him or me?
His mouth found mine before I could pull away.
It wasn't gentle and neither was it hesitant.
It was claiming.
His lips crushed mine as his hand slid up to tangle in my hair, angling my face to take more of me. Heat exploded through me from the pit of my stomach to every part of my body, fierce and consuming. My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping the fabric as though it might keep me from drowning.I should have resisted and maybe I should have shoved him back, but the storm inside me betrayed me, answering his hunger with my own. Just as fierce.
This was all new to me.
I had never before been in such a position with a man before.
So resisting was hard.
When his tongue swept across my lips, demanding entry, I opened for him with a shuddering gasp. The kiss deepened, darkened, became something wild and uncontrollable. We were both drowning in this treacherous water. But nobody seemed to notice or care.
He tasted like champagne, his dominance pressed into every movement. I hated him for it, but I hated myself more for melting beneath it.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin until I gasped. His hand slid lower, gripping my hip through the fabric, pulling me flush against the hard line of his body.
"Do you feel that?" he whispered against my skin.
"Tell me again you don't want me."
Heat pooled low in my belly, treacherous and consuming. My head fell back, exposing more of
my throat, betraying me further.
His mouth captured the delicate spot just below my ear, sucking lightly until I moaned.
Thesound shocked me as much as it thrilled him. He chuckled darkly, lifting his head to meet my wide, panicked eyes.
"There she is," he murmured.
"The fire I knew was hiding under all that fear."
"I hate you," I whispered, breathless.
His smirk returned, wicked and satisfied.
"Then hate me harder."
His hand slid to the zipper of my gown, tugging it down an inch. I stiffened, panic flashing.
He paused immediately. For the first time, something softer flickered in his gaze. His thumb brushed my cheek, surprisingly gentle.
"I could take everything from you right now," he said quietly.
"You know that."
My chest heaved, my body trembling against his.
"But I won't," he continued, his voice lowering, dangerous and tender all at once.
"Not tonight.
Not until you stop lying to yourself. Not until you admit you crave me as much as I crave you."
His words seared into me, leaving me raw and exposed.
And then, with infuriating calm, he stepped back. Straightened his shirt. Adjusted his cuffs.As though nothing had happened.
I stood frozen, lips swollen, skin flushed, gown half-zipped. My body burned, desperate for the fire he'd ignited and cruelly extinguished.
"You'll beg for me, Sapphire," he said softly, darkly.
"And when you do, I'll give you everything, but only when you beg."
He turned, leaving me trembling beside the bed, my pulse pounding like a drum.
And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.
I might actually break before he did.
But only if I don't do something about it.
It was time to come to an agreement with my husband.
This was getting out of hand.