He steps closer, his eyes darkening. “I believe I explained how much privacy a thousand euros can buy.”
“You explained very well,” I concede. “But we have a lot of celebrating to do. And you deserve more than a fast fuck in a dressing room.”
“As it happens, it’s not a fast fuck that I want.”
“Oh?” I ask innocently hooking my arms around his neck. I press my hips against him and move in a lazy grinding motion. “What exactly do you want?”
His hands slide slowly down over my ass, stilling me, but also pressing me up hard against him. I feel his erection straining against his jeans, hot and demanding. “You,” he says simply. “I want you naked, Nikki. Naked and hot and wet for me. I want to hear you moan. Hell, I want to hear you beg. And I promise you, baby, there will be nothing fast about it.”
Chapter Six
“There,” he says, as soon as we are back in our suite. He is pointing to the area in front of the window, and I go without hesitation. The drapes are open, and the window of our fifth floor suite overlooks the Maximilianstrasse. “That’s it,” he says. “I want to watch as the sky darkens and the city lights rise behind you. I want to see the sunset reflected on your skin and the glitter of the nightlife shining in your hair.”
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.