CHAPTER 3 - Reckless Surrender

His mouth crashed against mine with bruising intensity.

I gasped, and Damien took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming mine with raw possession. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly until my legs wrapped around him.

"Last chance, Flora." His voice was rough against my lips. "Walk away now or I will not let you go."

"I do not want to go."

Something feral flashed in his eyes. "You have no idea what you are asking for."

"Then show me."

He carried me to the bed, his strength absolute as he laid me down. The mattress dipped under his weight as he braced himself above me, his leather jacket straining across broad shoulders.

"Take it off," I whispered, tugging at the zipper.

His hand caught my wrist. "I give the orders here. Understand?"

Heat flooded through me at the command in his tone. I nodded, unable to form words.

"Good girl." He released me, shrugging out of the jacket. His shirt followed, revealing a canvas of ink and scars. "Now your turn. Let me see what I am claiming."

My fingers trembled on the zipper of my dress. His eyes tracked every movement as I peeled the fabric away, suddenly hyperaware of my plain underwear, my unremarkable body.

"Beautiful." He said it like a fact, not a compliment. "Every inch of you."

His calloused hands traced the curve of my hip, and I shivered. Everything about him was rough, dangerous, the complete opposite of Richard's careful touches and scheduled intimacy.

Damien noticed. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Lie to me again and I will stop." His thumb brushed across my lower lip. "Who were you comparing me to?"

"My ex-fiancé."

"And?"

"You are nothing like him."

"Good." His mouth descended on my throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin. "Forget him. Forget everything except my name. That is all you are going to remember tonight."

He was right.

Every touch erased another piece of my old life. His hands explored with possessive thoroughness, learning every curve, every response. When his mouth closed over my breast, I arched into him, desperate for more.

"Damien, please."

"Please what?" He looked up, eyes dark with hunger. "Tell me what you want, Flora."

"You. All of you."

"Greedy girl." But satisfaction curved his lips as he rid us both of the remaining barriers between us. "Remember—you asked for this."

He entered me in one powerful thrust, and I cried out at the overwhelming fullness. He stilled, giving me a moment to adjust, his forehead pressed against mine.

"Breathe," he commanded softly. "Take me. All of me."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. His control snapped.

He moved with primal intensity, each thrust claiming me, branding me. I had never felt so utterly consumed, so completely possessed. His name fell from my lips like a prayer, and he swallowed the sound with another devastating kiss.

"Mine." The word rumbled from his chest as his pace increased. "Say it."

"Yours." The admission should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like freedom.

Pleasure built with dangerous speed, coiling tighter until I shattered beneath him. He followed moments later, my name a growl against my neck as he found his release.

We lay tangled together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. His weight pressed me into the mattress—solid, real, undeniable.

Reality crashed back slowly.

What had I done? I had run from my engagement, spent the night with a complete stranger, had unprotected sex with a man involved in violence I did not understand.

"Stop thinking so loud." Damien rolled to his side, pulling me against his chest. "Whatever you are panicking about can wait until morning."

"You do not know what I am thinking."

"You are thinking this was a mistake. That you should not have let a stranger touch you. That your perfect life is waiting for you to come to your senses and return." His hand stroked my hair with unexpected tenderness. "Am I wrong?"

"No." My voice was small. "But it is more complicated than that."

"It always is." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "But you made a choice tonight, Flora. Own it."

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, his expression darkening as he read the screen.

"Fuck."

"What is wrong?"

He sat up, already reaching for his clothes. "I have to go. Stay here. Do not leave this room until morning."

Fear spiked through me. "Damien, what is happening?"

"The men from the bar—they are not finished. My brothers need me." He was dressed in seconds, all traces of tenderness gone. The dangerous stranger had returned. "Promise me you will stay here."

"I promise."

He leaned down, kissing me hard and fast. "This is not over between us. Understand?"

Then he was gone.

I sat alone in the rumpled bed, his scent still on my skin, the taste of him still on my lips. My phone—the one I had turned off at the café—sat in my purse across the room.

I should have left it off. Should have stayed in the safe cocoon of this moment.

But my hands moved of their own accord, powering it on.

Fifty-three missed calls. Dozens of texts. And one voicemail from my mother that made my blood run cold.

"Flora, darling, wherever you are, you need to come home immediately. Richard's father knows people. Dangerous people. He has already sent someone to find you. Please, sweetheart, come home before this gets worse."

The phone slipped from my shaking hands.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Room service," a smooth voice called.

I had not ordered room service.