RAW EMOTION

Elena – POV

The kiss was chaotic, messy, and desperate, and utterly intoxicating.

I didn’t know who moved first. Maybe we moved at the same time, colliding in the center of the storm we’d both barely survived. There was no room for restraint, no space for guilt or thought. Only emotion is raw, wild, and all-consuming.

He kissed me like he needed it to breathe, and I returned it with everything I had left.

Our bodies pressed together like magnets. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp, and that sound… it drove him wild. I felt the hard edge of his desire pressing into my thigh, and I shuddered, arousal surging through my veins like wildfire.

I pulled him closer.

My hands roamed upward, then wrapped around his neck. He groaned against my lips when I gently gripped his throat, my fingers tightening just a little. It was instinct. Emotion. A silent command to let go. And he did.

He moaned into my mouth like I’d stolen the last bit of control he had. The sound made my knees weak. Every nerve in my body was on fire.

He picked me up with ease, guiding me toward the bed. We didn’t break the kiss. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. His mouth moved down to my jaw, then lower to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark claiming me with lips and tongue and teeth.

Clothes fell away like smoke.

My coat dropped to the floor. His shirt followed. Then my top. Then his hands were on my bare skin, warm and firm, and he groaned when he realized I wasn’t wearing anything beneath.

“No bra?” he murmured, voice rough. “No panties?”

I didn’t answer. I just looked at him, daring him to make the next move.

“God, Lena,” he growled, his mouth capturing my nipple.

My back arched.

“Damiennnn…” I moaned, my fingers clutching his shoulders. His name came out broken, breathless, full of need. He sucked harder, switching between each breast, biting lightly, soothing with his tongue. My thighs trembled around his waist.

Then his fingers slid between my legs.

I gasped.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice dark with awe and hunger. “So ready for me.”

I whimpered as he slid one finger inside. Then another. His thumb rubbed tight circles over my clit, and I could barely breathe. The heat coiled low in my stomach. I was unraveling, fast.

His mouth found mine again just as I shattered. The orgasm tore through me like lightning. I shook against him, crying out into the kiss, my body losing control.

But he wasn’t done.

He positioned himself between my thighs, kissing me deeply as he whispered, “I need to be inside you.”

And then I felt him.

Thick. Hard. Sliding in with a slow, brutal stretch that made me cry out all over again.

“Damien—” I gasped, nails digging into his back.

He groaned, burying himself fully. “You feel like heaven,” he hissed. “You’re perfect.”

He moved inside me, slow at first, deep and controlled, each thrust stealing what breath I had left. Then faster. Harder. Our bodies slammed together in a rhythm born of grief and need and something neither of us could name.

We clung to each other like lifelines.

His mouth found every part of me, my collarbone, my throat, and my lips. I couldn’t stop moaning his name, couldn’t stop wanting him. His fingers tangled with mine as he moved faster, rougher, until 

We came together.

My world went white.

I cried out his name, and he groaned mine like it was salvation.

When it was over, he didn’t move right away.

He lay on top of me, breathing hard, his heart hammering against mine. Sweat clung to our skin. My fingers threaded through his hair.

For the first time in months, maybe longer, I felt safe.

But peace never lasts.

The next morning, sunlight streamed in through the curtains. I woke up alone.

The bed was cold beside me. My skin still buzzed with the memory of his touch, but my heart ached with something heavier.

I wrapped the sheets around me, stood, and moved quietly down the hall.

He was in the living room.

Fully dressed. Awake. He stared out the window with a cup of untouched coffee in his hands.

When he turned and saw me, I froze.

His eyes met mine. Then flicked away.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did I at first.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Finally, I said it. The words I’d spent the whole night running from:

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look surprised.

“I know,” he replied. His voice was calm. Too calm. As if he’d already prepared for this.

I wrapped the sheet tighter around me, suddenly cold. “We weren’t thinking. We were emotional. Grieving. It was… it was a mistake.”

He looked at me then. And for a second, I saw the pain beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It was.”

But something in his tone didn’t match the words.

I nodded. My eyes burned again, but I didn’t let the tears fall.

“I’m going to get dressed,” I muttered, turning away before he could see the tremble in my hands.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

What we’d shared, that chaotic night of tangled bodies and broken hearts, became a secret we’d bury beneath the truth we’d uncovered. The truth that mattered more.

Lucas was dead.

Charlotte and Adrian had killed him.

And now… we had a war to plan.

There was no room for mistakes. No room for feelings.

Not anymore.

“So what are we going to do now?” I asked 

“About what?”

“The pictures, everything Charlotte and Adrian probably killed…”  I can see his eyes darken

“Probably killed Lucas cause he found out about them cause that’s probably the explanation for everything going on right now “I continued and he sighs. 

“You’re right, don’t worry, I’ll think about it. Hum, I need to get ready for work, so do you? “he said and walked away.

I went to the bathroom to take a shower, but I couldn’t stop thinking about last night, the way his hand worked magic on me. 

“Elena”