Chapter 7

Days turned into weeks, and the quiet rhythms of their new life settled around them. Nia found herself waking up each morning to the scent of fresh coffee, the gentle hush of the gardens just outside her window. Damien was always there, waiting with a small smile that reached his usually guarded gray eyes.

They’d grown comfortable together, even in the silence. Mornings spent in the kitchen, afternoons exploring the vast grounds of his estate, evenings by the fire where he would read to her from his collection of poetry and ancient philosophy. In those stolen moments, Nia found something she never thought she’d have again—peace.

And yet, there was something more. A slow-burning tension that grew every time their eyes met across the breakfast table. A flicker of heat when his hand brushed hers, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

One afternoon, she found herself alone in the library, lost in a novel she’d found on the shelves. She hadn’t even heard him enter until he was standing behind her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body at her back.

“Finding anything you like?” Damien’s voice was a low murmur, and she turned to face him, her pulse quickening.

“I didn’t realize you were there,” she said softly.

His eyes swept over her face, lingering at the curve of her lips. “You were lost in your book,” he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I like seeing you like this. Relaxed… content.”

She bit her lip, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. “It’s… peaceful here,” she admitted. “I never had that before.”

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I want you to have that now,” he said. “I want you to feel safe. Cherished.”

---

Their bond deepened in those quiet moments, a soft intimacy blooming like the roses in the gardens. But beneath it all, a restless desire was growing between them, electric and undeniable.

It was late one night when it finally snapped. They’d been sitting together in the small parlor, the fire casting golden light across his chiseled features. Damien had been telling her about his travels—Paris, Tokyo, Dubai—his deep, rich voice wrapping around her like silk.

“You’ve seen so much of the world,” she said quietly. “I’ve hardly been anywhere.”

“You’ll see it all, Nia,” he promised, his eyes glinting. “I’ll show you everything. Every city. Every secret.”

She felt her breath catch at the promise in his words. “Why me, Damien? Why are you so sure?”

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “Because when I look at you,” he said huskily, “I see the woman who’s going to change everything for me.”

---

The air between them grew charged, every brush of his fingers sparking a fire low in her belly. She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her—his hand tilting her chin up so she had to meet his gaze.

“Nia,” he murmured, his lips so close she could feel the heat of his breath, “tell me to stop, and I will.”

She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. But there was no part of her that wanted him to stop. Not now. Not when every part of her ached to feel him closer.

“I… I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered.

A low groan slipped from his throat. Then he closed the distance, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was soft at first, almost reverent—then hungry and demanding. She melted into him, her hands clutching at his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers until she was dizzy with need.

---

Damien lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the wide, plush couch by the fire. He laid her down carefully, his eyes burning into hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said roughly, his fingers trailing down her throat to the swell of her breasts. “I’ve been wanting this… wanting you… from the moment I saw you.”

Nia gasped as he kissed her again, his mouth hot and insistent, his hands exploring every inch of her trembling body. She arched against him, her breath coming in soft, broken moans as he pressed his lips to her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive skin just below.

When he finally slid his hands beneath the soft cotton of her dress, she shivered at the feel of his rough palms against her bare skin.

“Damien…” she breathed, her voice a needy whisper.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Say my name again,” he commanded softly.

“Damien,” she moaned, her hips lifting instinctively against him.

A smile curved his lips, and he kissed her again, deeper, harder. His hands moved lower, teasing the sensitive skin of her thighs, making her writhe beneath him.

“You’re mine, Nia,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair as he pressed a trail of hot kisses down her throat.

---

Clothes became a distant memory, their movements growing more frantic as he finally laid her bare. She reached for him, needing the feel of his skin, the strength of his arms around her.

When he entered her, she cried out, her body arching to meet his thrusts. Damien moved slowly at first, his gaze locked on hers, his every movement filled with an intensity that left her breathless.

“Look at me, Nia,” he ordered, his voice ragged. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”

She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his hips as he moved faster, deeper, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. Their moans tangled together, the only sounds in the quiet, fire-lit room.

---

When they finally came undone together, it was with her name on his lips, her cries echoing his own. He held her afterward, their bodies slick with sweat, his arms wrapped around her as if he’d never let go.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured against her hair, his breath still ragged. “You’re mine. Now and always.”

She closed her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest. “And you’re mine,” she whispered back, her fingers tracing the strong lines of his back.

---

In the days that followed, that night of passion became their unspoken secret. They still moved carefully around each other in the daylight, but at night, when the world was quiet and the walls closed around them, they let the heat between them burn bright and fierce.

And though neither of them spoke the word *love*, it lingered there in the quiet smiles, the gentle touches, the way Damien’s hand would find hers when they thought no one was watching.

In those secret nights, Nia began to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was where she belonged—right there in his arms, where nothing else could touch her.