Complete Me(33)

He strides toward me, all strength and power and a confidence that borders on arrogance. This is not the man who spent weeks at the mercy of the German court system only to have his freedom lobbed at him by a stranger. No, this is the man who built an empire. A man with strength enough to beat back the demons I saw this afternoon.

I look at him and feel no chill lingering from the nightmarish shadows that obscured him from me. There is only Damien now. The man that I know—the man that I crave.

This is the Damien who takes charge—who simply takes.

Tonight, all I want is for him to take me.

My body trembles as he approaches, his eyes never leaving mine. He reaches out, and his fingertips brush my neck, flicking lightly over the pearl necklace that I still wear. It is the slightest of contact, but it reverberates through me like an explosion.

I suck in air and tilt my head to the side, elongating my neck for him. My breath is ragged, my skin on fire. He leaves a trail of goose bumps on my neck before his fingertips gently graze the weave of my dress along my shoulder, and then once again stroke my sensitive skin to travel down my bare arm.

He breaks contact and steps away, and I want to weep from the loss.

“Yes,” he says, as if in answer to some question of his own. “This is how I want to see you, standing naked before the world. I want to look at you and know that you are mine.”

“You know I am.” My words are soft, barely a whisper.

“Say it,” he says.

“I’m yours,” I say, because I mean it. More than that, I understand why he wants to hear it. He’s taking back the control that had been wrenched from him—and he’s taking it back through me.

He moves his hand to the zipper at the back of my dress, then slowly tugs it down. Slowly, he brushes the dress off my shoulders. It falls to the floor, the circle of yellow like the petals of a flower. I am left in my newly purchased underwear. A demi-cup bra in a deep purple and matching thong panties. Damien looks me up and down, and there is no mistaking the heat in his eyes.

“Come with me.” He takes my hand and leads me a few steps farther to the window. It’s not floor to ceiling, but it’s close. We are right up against it. Another step and the window ledge would hit me just above the knees. Damien is behind me, his hands on my shoulders and the denim of his jeans rough and cool against my bare ass. In front of us, Munich is spread wide.

Slowly, Damien reaches around and unfastens the front clasp of my bra then eases the straps off my arms. He drops the garment to the floor as I instinctively try to cover myself. “No,” he says simply as he slides his arms down along mine, then holds me firmly at the wrists, my arms now at my sides.

“But the window,” I say, looking out at the stores and offices that rise around us. “The other buildings.”

“No one is watching. The glass is tinted, and there are no lights in here. No one can see.”

I relax infinitesimally.

“But even if they could . . . ” His voice trails off as he releases my wrists. His hands stroke my body, one trailing up until he finds my breast and the tight, puckered skin of my areola. The pad of his thumb flicks roughly over my nipple, and I gasp from the deep, decadent pleasure. His other hand slides down until his fingers sneak under the band of the thong to brush over my damp, trimmed pubic hair. He teases me, his fingers forming a V as he glides over my folds, coming so tantalizingly close to my clit that I want to cry out in frustration and beg him to please, just touch me.




“What if that’s what I wanted?” he whispers. He presses his lips to the back of my neck then lowers himself to trail kisses down my spine, leaving me shivering in the wake of his touch. The sun has dipped below the horizon, and the world outside is fast darkening, turning our window into a mirror. I meet my own eyes in reflection, and see my features soft with desire.