Page 6 of Enchant Me

He’d put on a good show, that was for damn sure. But he’d never truly believed he could be anything else. Not really. Not until Nikki.

She was his heart, his soul, his love. And together they’d managed to build the life he’d always craved but never quite imagined. They’d fought for this life, this home, their children. And yet over and over, the horrors of the past had encroached. And despite all his control, all his billions, he couldn’t keep the goddamn gates closed.

Blam, pow!

Another jab, followed by a left hook as he danced around the bag, his bare chest now beaded with sweat. His suit was hanging neatly over the pommel horse. The benefit of having a full gym on the far north side of the house. He was stripped down to boxer briefs and sweating as much as he ever had after a match at Wimbledon. He wanted the ache. Wanted to push himself.

Himself? Hell, he wanted to push the images out of his head. The ones in that goddamn text, and the ones that lived in his memory.

With a gasp, he landed two more punches, then danced back, breathing hard.

“Sofia,” he whispered. “God knows I loved you, but will you ever stop haunting me?”

The words were choked out with a sob, and he hunched over, his hands going to his knees as he sucked in oxygen.

He was a fool. A goddamn idiot. Because he’d truly thought he was past all this. That his decision so many years ago to release the original photos himself and suffer whatever the press threw at him would be the end of it. And for a while, it was. For years, the vultures had backed off the subject. They’d respected his privacy, more or less. They’d celebrated the adoption and birth of his children. They’d sympathized when Anne was kidnapped, and rejoiced when Nikki’s pregnancy with Bradley was announced. The gossip hounds, it seemed, had been tamed.

Except how can you truly tame a wild beast? They fed on scandal and gossip, and while the text Charles had sent Damien as he’d reached the gym confirmed that his attorneys were already on the ball, he also knew that Charles and his team weren’t infallible.

Not that it mattered. It wasn’t the possibility that the video would go public that was eating at him. Not really. Just as it wasn’t the fact that he hadn’t known the video still existed. It hadn’t surfaced, and so he’d foolishly let himself believe it was gone. That Richter had erased it or destroyed it. And that, finally, Damien could close that chapter of his life and start a new one with Nikki.

Now, somebody had yanked that door wide open again.

He landed another five punches in quick succession, then stood up straight, realizing he wasn’t alone. He closed his eyes, his body already burning with awareness of her. “I didn’t want you to follow me here,” he whispered, not sure if he was speaking the truth or a lie.

“The hell you didn’t.” Her voice was soft but strong, and her tone was level, without the slightest hint of recrimination. “You need me, Damien. And you’re a fool if you think I don’t need you, too.”

He drew in a breath, trying to quell the fury that had been fueling him. “I always need you.” The words couldn’t be more true if he tried. He turned to face her, then wished he hadn’t when he saw both the love and the worry in her eyes. “But not like this, Nikki,” he said. “Not right now. Not in the middle of a goddamn celebration.”

“Bullshit. Seriously, Damien, for a man who is so smart, how can you not get it through your head that I understand you. I know you. And you know me. Do you think this is easy on me? No—,” she said, holding up a hand as he started to speak. “I don’t mean that it was hard to see the video. Of course it was, but not because it changes what you are to me. It was hard because the people in that video were children. Because you were one of those kids. And because Richter was a vile and disgusting human and you were at his mercy. That gets inside me, Damien. It makes me feel angry and helpless, and—”

“Helpless?”

“Why not?” She took a step closer. “Aren’t I? After everything we’ve been through, everything we know about each other, it’s not me you come to but the gym? The goddamn gym, Damien? Would you let me get away with that? Going to the blade instead of to you?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yes, it is.” She moved closer still, until he could smell the lavender scent of her body wash and see the beat of her pulse in her neck. Her eyes flashed as she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and tugged him closer.

“Do you remember after we got Anne back? The way you pulled away from me? I thought I’d lost you until that night on the tennis court. More important, I thought that after that night, we were past this, you thinking you have to protect me. You not understanding that I need you, too.”

She was crying now, tears escaping to trickle down her cheeks. “Dammit, Damien. You know how much I need you right now, just like you need me. And you do. I know you do, but, dammit, you’re torturing us both.”

She said the last with a frustrated shove to his chest, but he caught her by the wrists, then yanked her toward him, hating her words, but knowing they were true. He’d done the exact thing he’d chastised her over when she’d cut after Anne’s kidnapping. She’d gone to the blade instead of going to him.

And here he was, pummeling a bag instead of going to her, even though he knew—they both knew—that the only way to find his way again was through Nikki. He needed that control. Needed to feel something good and right. Needed to have her surrender because she wanted him and needed him as much as he needed her.

“Baby,” he said, but it was the only word he could manage before he had to claim her. His mouth closed over hers in a wild, violent kiss, all teeth and tongue and need and desperation. He wanted to get lost in the feel of her, the scent of her. She was his everything. His love, his life.

Most of all, she was his way back home. A tether to keep him grounded. A rope, to pull him out of this dark, black pit.

He kissed her deeper, his hand sliding between them to cup her sex through the thin athletic shorts she’d pulled on this morning. He slid his palm up her thigh, relishing the soft moan as his thumb stroked her tender skin. He deepened the kiss, lifting his hand in time with the way his tongue was fucking her mouth. Aching for the moment when his finger grazed her soft folds, slippery with desire.

He thrust his fingers inside her, then groaned as her body tightened around him. She moaned with pleasure, her body arching back as she silently begged him to go harder, deeper. He complied, wanting to make her wild. Wanting to watch her face as she came, knowing he took her there.

But he wanted so much more right now. Hell, he wanted everything. Wanted to take her. To claim her. Even more, he wanted her desperate for him. Wild and needy, unsatisfied until he decided it was time to let her come. He needed that, craved it. To experience the power and control she so willingly gave him, even when the rest of the world seemed steadfast in its attempt to defy him.

He pulled away, taking a step back and breaking contact. She whimpered in protest, her own hand slipping under the band of those shorts to continue what he’d started. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting back. Her nipples were tight against her tee, tempting him, and she was biting her lower lip as her hand moved beneath the material of her shorts. He heard her soft moan as he stepped closer, craving the feel of her skin against his, her mouth pliant beneath his.