Aria's head was spinning. This was probably a terrible idea. Definitely a terrible idea. They were supposed to be keeping this arrangement simple, and this was the opposite of simple.
But she couldn't bring herself to care. Not when his mouth was doing wicked things to hers, not when her entire body was alive with sensation, not when every logical thought was burning away in the heat between them.
Damien pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with desire. "We should stop."
She raised an eyebrow in question.
"Because if we don't stop now, I'm going to carry you to that bedroom and we're going to cross a line we can't uncross."
"Maybe I want to cross that line," she typed one-handed, not letting go of his shirt.
"Aria." Her name was half warning, half plea. "You said you needed time. To know me better before"
"I changed my mind."
"People don't just change their minds about something like this in a day."
"I'm not most people. You said that yourself."
He laughed again, and this time it was tinged with frustration and desire. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Is that a yes?"
Instead of answering, he lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her legs, his hands framing her face as he kissed her again. Slower this time, deeper, thorough. Like he was memorizing the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she responded to his touch.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
"Yes," he said roughly. "That's a yes. But Aria" He waited until she met his eyes. "If we do this, it changes things. This stops being just business. I need you to understand that."
She understood. Understood that they were about to make this complicated, messy, real. Understood that she was taking a risk with a man who'd explicitly told her he wasn't capable of love.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe she didn't need love. Maybe mutual respect and chemistry and honesty were enough for now.
"I understand," she typed. "I still want this."
The last of his restraint snapped. He lifted her off the counter, his hands under her thighs, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He carried her through the penthouse toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers.
They were both about to cross that line. About to turn their business arrangement into something infinitely more complicated.
And Aria didn't regret it for a second.
Whatever happened next whether this was a terrible mistake or the beginning of something unexpected at least it would be her choice.
Her choice to take the risk.
Her choice to be reckless for once in her carefully controlled life.
Her choice to discover what fire felt like before it burned her.
Aria woke to the feeling of being watched.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Damien propped on one elbow beside her, his gray eyes studying her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. Early morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting him in shades of gold and shadow.
He was beautiful like this hair mussed from her fingers, the hard edges of his face softened by the dawn light, bare-chested with the sheet pooled at his waist. Beautiful and dangerous and hers, at least for the moment.
"You're awake," he said quietly, his voice still rough with sleep.
She nodded, suddenly aware of how intimate this was. They were tangled together under expensive sheets, the heat of last night still lingering between them, and she had no idea what the protocol was for the morning after with a husband who'd explicitly told her he didn't do emotions.
"I should" He stopped, seeming uncertain. Damien Blackwell, uncertain. It was almost endearing. "I have an early meeting. I need to get ready."
Aria felt a sting of disappointment. Of course. Back to business as usual. Last night had been an aberration, a momentary lapse in his carefully controlled existence.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand, typed: "Okay. I'll get up too."
But when she moved to slide out of bed, his hand caught her wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop her.
"Wait." He looked like he was fighting an internal battle. "Last night was…"
She raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"Unexpected," he finally said. "I don't regret it. But I need you to understand this doesn't change the fundamental nature of our arrangement. We're still operating on a three-year timeline. This is still ultimately a business contract."
There it was. The emotional retreat she'd been bracing for.
"You're trying to convince yourself or me?" she typed.
His jaw tightened. "Both, probably."
"For someone who claims not to do emotions, you seem pretty conflicted about this."
"I'm not conflicted," he said, but his grip on her wrist loosened, his thumb absently stroking the inside of her wrist in direct contradiction to his words. "I'm being realistic. Physical chemistry is one thing. It doesn't have to mean"
"Love?" she finished for him. "Don't worry, Damien. I'm not naive enough to think one night together means you're suddenly going to fall for me. You've made your limitations very clear."
Something flickered in his eyes relief? Disappointment? She couldn't tell.
"Good," he said. "As long as we understand each other."
"Crystal clear."
He released her wrist and rolled out of bed, unselfconscious in his nakedness as he headed toward the bathroom. Aria watched him go, feeling a complicated tangle of satisfaction and frustration and something that might have been hurt if she let herself examine it too closely.
She'd known what she was getting into. He'd warned her. She had no right to feel stung by his morning-after retreat.
But she felt it anyway.
By the time she showered and dressed, Damien was already in the kitchen, immaculate in a charcoal suit, his armor back in place. He was on his phone, of course, firing off emails while he drank what looked like his third cup of coffee.
Margaret had arrived and was preparing breakfast, her knowing eyes taking in the scene with what Aria suspected was satisfaction. The older woman had probably heard them come home last night, probably knew exactly what had transpired between the newlyweds.
The thought made Aria's cheeks heat.