To everything.
The words echoed in the opulent silence of the penthouse, a command wrapped in a seductive growl. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. Damien’s thumb still pressed against the hollow of my throat, not hard, not painful, but possessive. A brand. Heat radiated from his body, from his gaze, from the very air between us. It swamped my senses, a heady mix of fear and a dark, pulsing excitement that throbbed low in my belly.
My mind raced, a chaotic blur of panic and a shameful, undeniable arousal. He wanted me to say yes. Yes to what? Yes to him? To this luxurious prison? To a night of things I’d only ever read about in forbidden novels, things that made my cheeks burn even as a traitorous wetness pooled between my thighs. He was so close, his lips a breath from mine, the scent of expensive whiskey and pure, undiluted male animalism filling my nostrils.
I tried to speak, to form a word, any word. But my throat was tight, my tongue thick. What could I possibly say? Yes? No? Maybe? Every option felt like a leap into an abyss. The man before me exuded power, control, and a dangerous allure that threatened to shatter my carefully constructed world.
