Amara lay with her head on Damian's chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. His hand slid down the curve of her back, pressing her closer until there was no space left between them. When he lifted her face, his lips found hers in a slow, searching kiss that deepened with every second, pulling her into the warmth of him.
A soft sigh escaped her when his mouth trailed lower, brushing across her neck and down to the swell of her breast. His touch was gentle, reverent, yet filled with hunger. She arched toward him, a moan slipping past her lips as his mouth closed around her, teasing her until her body trembled.
"Damian..." she whispered breathlessly, her voice breaking. "We're going to be late for work."
But he silenced her protest with another deep kiss, his hand sliding lower, exploring her with a slow, deliberate tenderness that made her body ache for more. Her legs trembled as he touched her, drawing her into a haze of pleasure until she was whispering his name like a prayer.
When he finally entered her, she gasped softly at the depth, the way he filled her completely. The rhythm of his movements was slow at first, savoring every moment, but soon the urgency grew. Their breaths tangled, their bodies moving together in perfect sync, each wave of pleasure drawing them closer to the edge.
Amara clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as her moans filled the room. The intensity built higher and higher until she shattered in his arms, her body quivering against his. Damian followed her release, holding her tight as he buried himself deep within her, his own groan of release muffled against her lips.
For a moment, the world stood still. They lay together, chests heaving, skin damp, their hearts racing in unison. Damian pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, brushing strands of hair from her face as she rested against him, still catching her breath.
Neither wanted to move, but eventually he chuckled softly, his voice husky. "If we don't get up now, Amara, we'll never make it to the office."
She laughed weakly, still flushed from their intimacy, and let him scoop her into his arms. Together, they carried the tenderness into the bathroom, where the shower turned into playful laughter, teasing touches, and stolen kisses. By the time they dressed and sat for breakfast, there was a new glow between them-intimate, unspoken, but impossible to hide.
Hand in hand, they stepped out to the car, ready to face the world, still carrying the secret sweetness of the morning they had shared.
The car hummed softly as it cruised down the road. Amara leaned into the seat, laughing at something Damian had just said, the kind of laughter that made her cheeks ache and her chest feel light. For a brief moment, everything felt normal-just the two of them, teasing and enjoying the quiet morning together.
But the laughter faded from her lips as a troubling thought crossed her mind. Her smile slipped, and she stared out the window, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.
Damian noticed immediately. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his tone gentle but alert.
Amara hesitated before turning to him, her voice softer now, weighed down with worry. "Damian... I'm scared. I feel like I'm the cause of all this mess."
His brows knitted together. "Cause of what?"
"The whole situation with Clara," she whispered, guilt tightening her throat. "I shouldn't have interfered the way I did. I slapped her, and then yesterday I stood by you... I must have made things worse. Now I don't know what she's plotting. What if she comes to the office and claims you as her fiancé? What am I supposed to do?"
Her words tumbled out in a rush, and when she finally stopped, silence filled the car again.
Damian glanced at her briefly, then back at the road, his jaw firm but his tone calm and steady. "Amara, listen to me," he said, his voice carrying the kind of certainty that cut through her fear. "You are not the cause of anything. Clara would have tried to push her way into my life regardless of what you did. Don't ever blame yourself for standing by me."
"But-" she began, her voice trembling.
He reached across the console and took her hand, his grip warm and unyielding. "No buts. If Clara shows up at the office, you don't need to say a word. You don't need to defend yourself, and you don't need to fight for me. Leave it for me to handle."
Amara's chest tightened as she looked at him. "Are you sure?"
Damian finally turned, locking his gaze with hers, his eyes dark with conviction. "Absolutely. You're mine, Amara. And I won't let anyone-even Clara-come between us. Trust me."
Her lips parted, the fear in her chest loosening as his words settled over her like a shield. She nodded slowly, squeezing his hand back, though worry still lingered faintly in her eyes.
By the time they pulled up to the company, the atmosphere had shifted. Employees milling around the lobby suddenly stilled, their attention fixed on the sight waiting at the front entrance.
Clara.
She stood there in a sleek outfit, arms crossed and a confident smirk playing at her lips as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.
Amara's heart sank. Damian's grip on her hand only tightened.
"Stay calm," he murmured under his breath as the driver opened the door. "I told you-I'll handle this."
The driver had barely opened the car door when Clara stepped forward with bold confidence, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She moved directly toward Damian, her eyes flashing with determination.
But the moment Damian turned to look at her, the sharp glare in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. His expression was cold, almost dangerous, and though Clara had come forward ready to cause a scene, she faltered instantly under his gaze.
Without saying a word to her, Damian reached for Amara's hand, threading his fingers through hers, and walked straight into the building. The message was clear-Amara was the woman by his side.
Clara trailed after them, unwilling to give up. She followed them up to the office floor, her heels echoing in the hallways like an unwelcome announcement.
Amara quietly slipped to her desk, trying to ignore the stares from colleagues who were already whispering. Damian entered his office, but before he could close the door, Clara stepped inside, shutting it behind her.
"Damian!" Clara's voice was sharp, tinged with desperation. "Why are you pushing me away? Why would you choose that low-class, good-for-nothing girl over me? Huh?"
Damian's eyes darkened, his tone clipped and icy. "Clara, leave my office. Now. Or you won't like what I will do next."
His words struck like a whip, silencing her. For a moment, Clara just stared at him, stunned by the harshness in his voice. Then she let out a bitter laugh, masking her bruised pride.
"Fine," she hissed, straightening her dress. "But don't think this is over. I'll be back tomorrow."
With that, she stormed out, her heels stabbing the floor as she left.