I brushed at the sand on my feet, wondering if we would have a life together. Since arriving on the island, Damien had been wonderful. Caring, sweet, protective, and patient. He held my hand, kissed my cheek or forehead, stayed close. At night, he was beside me, holding me, helping keep the nightmares at bay.
But he hadn’t touched me sexually. Hadn’t kissed my mouth or made love to me. I feared something had changed, and I wasn’t sure how to get past it. Missy had noticed me watching Damien earlier and must have seen something in my expression because she leaned over and patted my arm, her eyes sympathetic and filled with understanding.
“Give him time, Raven. He is trying to come to terms with things too. Marcus and I struggled a little as well, but we got through it.” Evie and Tally had nodded in agreement, offering me their silent support.
I appreciated it, but I was still unsure how to bridge the gap I felt growing between Damien and me.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I startled when Damien sat on the sand behind me, his powerful legs caging me in and his strong arms wrapping around my waist.
“Raven,” he murmured into my ear. “What are you doing out here alone in the dark?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “Enjoying the peace.”
“I thought you’d gone for a bath while I talked to Leo. I couldn’t find you in the house. I was worried.”
I stroked along his forearm, his muscles contracting under my touch. “Sorry to concern you.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he tightened his arm, drawing me close to his chest. His hard, chiseled chest I missed so much. “My married friends inform me if their woman says she’s fine, she is anything but. Talk to me, Raven. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I looked at the dark water, watching the waves break on the sand, the gentle, pulling rhythm soothing. “Did what happened with Andy—him kidnapping me—change how you see me, Damien?”
He didn’t respond right away. Then his answer broke my heart. “Yes.”
Tears welled in my eyes at the pain the simple word caused me. Then he spoke again.
“I always thought you were brave and amazing before. That you fought to stay that way and came out of that room even stronger made me realize just how incredible you are. I am in awe of you, Raven. And more in love with you than I ever was.”
His declaration shocked me. I turned in his arms, resting my head back on his shoulder and meeting his gaze. I touched the side of my face that was still healing. “I thought maybe my scars might change your mind.”
He covered my hand. “These will fade, Raven. We all have scars. They show we survived something. A mark on your face doesn’t change anything for me.”
“But you haven’t touched me. Kissed me. You haven’t made love to me since then.”
He lifted my hand to his mouth and nuzzled it. “I didn’t want to rush you, baby. I wanted you to heal. I worry about hurting you. Is that what’s upsetting you? You think I don’t want you anymore?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth. I want you as much now as before. More.”
“I thought maybe you only saw me as a victim now.”
“You aren’t a victim. You’re a survivor. Fierce. Strong. And you’re mine. You always will be.”
“Then make me yours again, Damien. I want—”
I never finished my sentence. He crashed his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding in and taking control. He banded his arms around me tight, holding me close. He deepened the kiss, moaning into my mouth. It became carnal, wet, intoxicating. My head swirled, my body lighting up for him. With him. Everything else faded away. Except him. Us. The need growing between us. He stood, lifting me with him, his mouth never leaving mine. I clung to his neck, not wanting our mouths to separate. He carried me into our room, setting me on my feet, plucking at the bows on my shoulders that held up my dress. I yanked down his shorts, feeling his cock, hard and hot between us. He tore his muscle shirt down the middle, our lips still locked together. He lifted me again, and I wrapped my legs around him, groaning at the sensation of him nudging at my entrance. He lowered us to the mattress, his body pressing into mine, and he slid into me, slowly stretching me, filling me until we were flush.
He dragged his mouth to my ear. “Now I’m home,” he whispered. “Inside you.”
“Damien,” I pleaded. “Please. I need you.”
He began to move, long, leisurely thrusts of his hips. Taking his time. Not wanting to hurt me. I gripped his neck. “More. I’m not made of glass. Show me how much you want me.”
He covered my mouth with his again and began to move. Faster. Harder. Lifting my ass and sliding in deeper. He kissed my mouth, neck, ears, and chest. Sucked at my nipples until they were wet and glistening. Swiveled his hips and hit me exactly where I needed. Mumbled words of praise and love. Groaned and hissed in pleasure as I licked and bit at his chest and neck, clutched his shoulders, pulled on his hair. I arched my back, taking him as deep as I could, crying out in the pleasure of it.