Isabella POV
Damien's hands were everywhere, claiming and possessing with a desperation that matched my own. He pressed me against my bedroom wall, his mouth hot and demanding against my throat, and all I could think was finally.
Finally, no more doubts. No more questions. No more Marcus Blackwood poison seeping into what we'd built.
"Seven years," Damien growled against my ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Seven fucking years I've wanted to do this."
"Then stop talking and do it," I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bed. The silk sheets were cool against my overheated skin when he laid me down, but his gaze was pure fire as he stared down at me.
"You're so goddamn beautiful," he said, his voice rough with need. "Every fantasy I've had, every dream that kept me awake... none of it compared to this."
