Chapter 101 I’ll come back tonight
Aria’s POV
"Shit..." He collapsed partially on top of me, both of us panting. "Sorry honey... you just felt too good... I couldn’t hold back..."
I could barely process his words, still floating in post-orgasm bliss. My body felt used, thoroughly claimed, marked inside and out as his.
Perfect.
When he finally pulled out, I whimpered at the loss. I could feel his cum starting to leak out, mixing with my own arousal.
"Stay still," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my spine. "Let me clean you up."
I was too boneless to argue, letting him care for me with surprising gentleness given how rough he’d just been.
After several minutes of comfortable silence, he broke it with a question that seemed almost absurdly normal after what we’d just done.
"Mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Of course. There are fresh towels in the cabinet."
He stood, stretching slightly, and I caught myself staring again at the way his muscles shifted under his skin. Down, girl.
"I’ll make breakfast," I said quickly, needing an excuse to escape before I did something embarrassing. Like climb him like a tree. Again.
"I’d like that."
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. Get it together, Aria.
I threw on a robe and padded to the kitchen, trying to focus on the mundane task of making breakfast instead of the fact that Damian Blackwood—the Alpha King—was currently naked and wet in my shower.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t—
I busied myself with pulling out ingredients. Something simple—French toast, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit. Nothing fancy, but comfort food always felt right in the morning.
The shower shut off. I heard the bathroom door open, then his footsteps approaching.
"Smells good," he said from behind me.
I turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, hair still damp, wearing yesterday’s clothes. He looked rumpled and relaxed in a way I’d never seen before—like he actually belonged in my little apartment instead of some penthouse suite.
"It’s nothing special. Just breakfast." I plated everything quickly, suddenly self-conscious about my limited cooking skills.
"It’s perfect."
We sat across from each other at my tiny kitchen table, morning light streaming through the window and painting everything in shades of gold. It felt surreal—domestically intimate in a way that made my chest ache.
This could be our life. Mornings together. Quiet breakfasts. Simple moments that meant everything.
"When we’re bonded," Damian said quietly, as if reading my thoughts, "I want this. Every morning. Waking up with you. Eating breakfast together. All of it."
My heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "Deal."
The word came out before I could stop it, but I didn’t regret it. I wanted this too. Wanted him. Wanted the life we could build together.
We ate in comfortable silence, but I couldn’t help sneaking glances at him. He caught me once and smiled—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his entire face.
His phone rang, shattering the peaceful bubble we’d created. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "I have to take this."
"It’s okay."
He stood, answering with a curt "What?" that told me it was Pack business. I started clearing the dishes, trying to give him privacy, but couldn’t help overhearing snippets of conversation about territory disputes and supply chain issues.
When he hung up, he looked almost regretful. "I need to go handle something at the Pack house."
"I understand." I walked toward him, noticing his collar was slightly askew. Without thinking, I reached up and straightened it, my fingers working the buttons into place.
He went very still.
"There," I said softly, smoothing down the fabric. "Perfect."
His hand came up to cover mine, holding it against his chest. "About last night—the movie. I enjoyed it."
I blinked up at him. "Really? You actually paid attention?"
"Of course I did." His eyes crinkled slightly. "The cinematography was interesting. And that plot twist in the middle—I didn’t see it coming."
Joy bubbled up in my chest. He’d actually watched it. Really watched it, not just sat there humoring me.
"We should finish it sometime," I said. "When I’m not falling asleep on you."
"I’d like that." He paused, something flickering in his expression. "You’re not scared anymore? Of horror movies?"
"With you there? Nothing scares me." I grinned up at him. "You’re better than any good luck charm."
He laughed—a deep, rich sound that vibrated through his chest and into my palm. "Is that what I am to you? A good luck charm?"
"Among other things."
We walked to the door together. He paused on the threshold, turning back to look at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
"Thank you," he said. "For breakfast. For last night. For everything."
"You don’t have to thank me."
"I want to."
He started to turn away, but I caught his hand without thinking. My fingers traced along his palm, memorizing the warmth of his skin, before reluctantly letting go.
"I’ll come back tonight," he said. Not a question. A promise.
"Okay."
His gaze lingered on my face for another heartbeat, something intense and almost hungry flickering in those storm-gray eyes. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
I leaned against it, pressing my palms to my burning cheeks.
Get it together, Aria. You’re acting like a lovesick teenager.
But I couldn’t stop smiling.
---
"Look who’s glowing this morning," Diana teased the moment I walked into the office. "Someone had a good night."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about," I said primly, but I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.
"Right. And I suppose that’s not a hickey you’re trying to hide with that scarf?"
"Diana!" I hissed, glancing around the office. "Do you want the whole building to hear you?"
She just laughed. "Relax, boss lady. Your secret’s safe with me. But you might want to work on that poker face before the client meeting."
"Speaking of which," I said, grateful for the subject change, "conference room in five. We need to go over the account."
Twenty minutes into our strategy session, my phone buzzed on the table.
When I saw Grandma Rose’s name on the screen, I felt a flicker of concern—she rarely called me unless something was wrong.
What could she possibly need from me?