Page 214 of Damián

I slide my hand into his, squeezing his fingers. “He’d be proud of the man you are, Damián.”

“And he would’ve loved meeting you.” He squeezes back, kissing my forehead before whispering, “Come look at the next room.”

I let him guide me across the hall, and when he opens the door to the second room, my jaw drops.

Did I die and go to tech heaven?

In the room, there is a dual-monitor setup, liquid-cooled towers, ergonomic chairs, and the coolest CPU ever made. Every single piece of hardware is top-of-the-line and so damn beautiful!

I turn to him, completely baffled. “I thought you hated computers.”

“I do. I barely know how to turn the damn things on. But this room isn’t for me, Ollie. It’s for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. You were going to need a place to plan and research your Ethical Smuggling gigs. So I built it for you.”

“I… don’t even know what to say.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. Thank you so much.” I press a kiss to his lips, then turn around to marvel at my new setup.

I check the cooling system, the extra ports, and a box of gadgets; everything is flawless. The amount of thought and love he poured into this place is overwhelming.

I’m leaning over the desk to check behind a monitor when he steps up behind me, pressing his body against my back and pinning me gently against the edge. His large hands slide around my waist, anchoring me to him.

He buries his face in the crook of my neck and shifts his weight, pressing his erection against my ass, leaving absolutely no doubt about what he wants next.

“Damián…” My breath hitches, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re distracting me.”

“You’ve looked long enough,” he licks the nape of my neck, his hands sliding up beneath the hem of my shirt, his thumbs scraping over my ribs. I turn around in his arms, curling my hands behind his neck. “Have I told you you’re the best future hubby in the world?”

“No. And I can’t believe it took this long.”

I lean closer, my lips trailing the curve of his neck. “I am a terrible fiancé.”

“The worst,” he murmurs.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“You can make it up to me after I make love to my fiancé.” He scoops me into his arms and starts walking toward the third room… our bedroom.

I press a kiss to his neck, then bite his earlobe. “Are you making love to me?”

“Yes, but only once,” he promises.

“Only once?”

“Yes, once. Because after that…” Damián fists his fingers in my hair and pulls back. The sharp sting sends a jolt of pleasure straight down my spine. He leans in close, his lips grazing my ear. “I am going to fuck the hell out of you.”

Oh, my God. Yes please!

He crushes his mouth against mine, and I melt against him. Don’t

Our kiss starts romantic, passionate, and worshipful. He holds me like I am the most precious thing in his world, our hands shedding our clothes as if we’re moving through a rehearsed dance, until there is nothing left between us.

He sweeps me to the center of the large bed, following me down to claim his space over me, pinning my wrists to the sheets. His lips trace every inch of my chest and stomach, leaving a trail of shivers that makes my skin come alive.