Novel & Cerita Damien Priest Height

Dad's friend. I stare back at Damian, stunned. I’d read him wrong. How come I didn't know about this? Dad didn't mention anything about Arclight. But then, pride is a stubborn thing. I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and meet his stare head-on. And that’s when I really saw him. He stands at least 6'2, a towering figure of handsomeness. His dark, sleek hair framed a symmetrical face — cheekbones sharp enough to cut, a strong jawline, and full lips pressed into a frown. His fitted suit barely contains the muscles beneath: broad shoulders and toned arms. And for a moment… I forget how to breathe.

I couldn't breathe. Standing at the altar, I couldn't get enough air. The suit was too tight. The cologne is too strong. The sun is too bright. And Damien Cross was right there. Two feet away. Staring at me with those eyes. Blue. Ice blue. The kind of blue that could freeze you solid. He was taller than I'd expected. At least 6'2". Broad shoulders filling out a black suit that probably cost more than our house. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. Dark hair perfectly styled. Every inch of him screamed power.

Before I could knock, the door swung open. And Jesus Christ. Damien Cross stood there like a walking threat. Tall as hell, broad shoulders, dark intense eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, giving me a dangerous little peek at his chest. He looked expensive. Powerful. And way too fucking hot for a man in his forties. His eyes slowly dragged down my body, taking his sweet time before coming back up to my face. I felt completely naked under that stare.

Lexie Damian was a decent human being. He was an older and more experienced version of the boys I'd dated throughout my time in high school and college. He was a little bit older than I was. Sincere, charitable, and possessing a warm and welcoming demeanor, this man gave off the impression that you could put your faith in anything he had to say. I used to fall for phrases like that all the time. He helped me by holding doors open and carrying my lunch tray. I was very grateful. He told me that he was from the Midwest in the United States. He entertained the notion that he might return there one day. He didn't belong here; it just wasn't his thing. If I hadn't lost my virginity to a forty-yea

We where both naked now and I tired my best not to look down at his member but I couldn't help it. I slowly looked in between his legs and nearly gasped as the sight before me. I heard about the sizes and how they are supposed to look like well thank Ash for that. Damian was no doubt an eight inched guy. He was red full and all at attention and I was more than glad I was the cause of that. "Move up" he said and I did as I was told. I moved up till I felt my head against the soft pillows. He climbed over me and I swear I could hear my heart beat.

I could take risks with anything but I couldn't take risks with Lily, I'd hear what he had to say first I decided internally, moving forward to follow him. Damien led me down a flight of stairs before leading me into a brightly lit office. My heart skipped a beat when I caught sight of a huge towering man who was already waiting in the office. “Were we followed Priest?” Damien asked, taking a seat behind the desk. “No,” the man called Priest shook his head, “No tails.” “What's going on?” I asked, my heart fluttering with alarm as I glanced between the two of them. “It's—” Damien paused for a moment before he glanced at Priest. He took the cue and walked out, closing the door behind him, I sl

Damien She stares back at me from her cell. Samara had been staring at us both for a while. But since her grey eyes had shifted to me, I seemed to be all she could focus on. ‘Rogue?’ Dane asks through mindlink ‘No. Brax would have scented it a mile off and so would I.’ I look in the cell. All the claw marks at the top made sense when she was probably over eight feet tall, though it was hard to tell while she was still sitting. The rest of us were probably around the seven foot mark once shifted.

Damien Black stepped into my apartment and suddenly the cramped space felt even smaller. His dark eyes swept over the peeling walls and scattered bills with detached assessment before settling on me. I stumbled backward, my back hitting the kitchen counter. My pulse hammered so violently I was sure he could hear it. Up close, he was devastating in a way the magazines hadn't captured. Six-foot-five of controlled danger wrapped in a suit that probably cost more than I made in a year. Every line of his body radiated money and power and the kind of authority that had never been questioned.

“My office. Now. Bring the Q3 campaign files.” My heart slammed against my ribs. “Of course.” I gathered the folders with slightly trembling hands and followed him across the floor. Every woman in the office watched him. Hell, half the men did too. Damien was six-foot-three of pure muscle and raw power — sharp jawline, thick black hair, and a body that filled out suits like they were made for sin Sadly he was married to my sister, Claire. The moment his office door clicked shut behind us, the air changed. “Lock it,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

His voice was shaking violently, ragged and frantic, completely stripped of all its usual corporate authority and composure. I slowly turned my head and looked at him over my shoulder. Damien stood ten feet away on the wet asphalt, his high-end tailored jacket completely soaked through and clinging to his broad shoulders. His dark hair was plastered messy across his forehead by the storm, and his face was entirely pale, drained of every last drop of color. Heavy rain ran down his cheeks, mixing with the tears streaming from his wide, bloodshot eyes. He looked completely unspooled, his chest heaving under his wet shirt as he stared at my bare, bruised feet hanging over the ledge.