She kisses me again. Heat flashes between us instantly, cleaner than before. Less anger. More want.
I pull her flush against me. The fabric warms under my palms. She inhales sharply when I tighten my grip just slightly. “You’re sure you want to take it slow?” I murmur against her mouth. “There are so many other things we could do.”
She smiles into the kiss. “Define slow.”
I laugh quietly and tilt my head, deepening the kiss. The suite door remains closed. The music outside swells and dips. The world continues to spin in champagne and curated joy. But here, in this overlit room that has witnessed more than it was meant to, something real is forming.
Her fingers curl at the back of my neck, tugging me closer. “If we’re doing this,” she whispers, “we’re doing it fully.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Her mouth curves against mine. And when the kiss turns heated again, it doesn’t feel like chaos. It feels like alignment.
The music outside crescendos again.
Inside, the heat rises. And this time, neither of us pulls away.
29
PERRY
Damian’s handsdrift all over me, searching for a zipper while we kiss each other raw. There’s no bed in this room, but we’ll make do with the counter at the vanity. Just gotta be careful of the lightbulbs down the sides of the mirrors. They stick out, and they’re hot.
Damian reaches beneath my dress for my underwear, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, he cups his hand over the underwear, mashing his palm against my clit while his fingers search for skin beneath the edges of lace.
I can’t believe he wants to stay with me after everything I did. Some loudmouth in my brain doesn’t believe it, thinks this is all a trick so he can make me fall harder for him, only to dump me in a month. It’s the kind of bullshit I used to pull when a man hurt me, so of course I think one would do that to me.
But that’s not Damian’s style. He’s nothing if not honest.
I’m lost to his touch, and when his fingers find their target, I gasp in his mouth. Two dip into me, just the tips at first. “Mm, yes!”
“That feel good, baby?”
I bob my head. “Don’t stop?—”
His mouth is still on mine when the door handle rattles.
We freeze.
For half a second, we just stare at each other, breath tangled, hands still busy. My dress is slightly hitched up my thighs, his jacket hangs open, and the suite lights are far too honest.
The door swings open, and Damian jerks away, turning to face our intruder, while also blocking their view of me so I can straighten up.
It’s Faith.
She stands there, bouquet gone, veil removed, hair slightly loosened from dancing. She takes in the scene in one sweep. Not scandalized. Not shocked. “Well,” she says calmly. “That answers that.”
I jerk backward, heat rushing to my face. “Faith?—”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m not here to yell.”
Damian straightens, smoothing his jacket automatically. “We weren’t?—”
“You were,” she interrupts lightly. “I have eyes, Damian.” There’s no accusation in her tone. Just mild impatience while I get myself together.
When I do, she says, “The car is ready. We’re heading off for the airport.”
It takes me a second to process. “Are you serious?”
