Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I know nothing.
There is only this.
This blinding, earth-shattering pleasure, tearing through me and splitting me apart.
Behind it, something even bigger, rising like the fucking sun cresting over the horizon.
I am alive.
I am here.
My body is electric.
I am here.
And Donny is right here with me, his fingers locking with mine, his body wrapped around me, holding me, keeping me tethered in the aftershock.
For one brief second, I believe him.
Maybe I'm not alone anymore.
Maybe we really could be in this together.
I gasp out a ragged cry, wanting to disbelieve it, wanting to pull away from the hope curling warm and soft inside me—
But then Donny cradles me in his arms, and I realize—he came too.
That moment. That crest. That fucking dawn.
We met it together.
FUCK.
Did he just sex-magic me?
My entire body wilts, boneless and ruined.
I think he just sex-magic'd me—
When the fuck can we do it again?
FOURTEEN
The Week Before Christmas
DOMHNALL
The suit is perfect—Armani, tailored within an inch of its life, so black it seems to absorb light from the room. I adjust the cuffs, checking myself in the mirror as I slip gold cufflinks through the holes. The reflection staring back at me is polished and powerful.
The perfect picture of a man who has everything under control.
What a fucking lie.
I hear Anna before I see her, the gentle patter of her feet coming up behind me, followed by the scent of her perfume—jasmine with an undertone of vanilla. She slides her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my back.
"You look so handsome," she murmurs, voice soft. "Everyone's going to be staring at you."
I turn, taking her in. Her hair cascades in loose waves over her shoulders, and she's wearing the emerald dress I bought her last month—fitted at the waist before flowing out in a gentle sweep that ends just above her knees. The color makes her eyes even more vibrant.
As always, the sight of her punches me in the fucking guts.
"No." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "They'll all be looking at you."
Her smile blooms, bright and pure. This is Anna—wholesome, earnest, excited about Christmas and all the trimmings that come with it. For weeks, she's been involved with my company's planning committee for tonight's gala. Every night she'd come home with new ideas, a sparkle in her eyes as she talked about decorations and music and food.
She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, a gentle brush of lips. But then she bounces on her toes, squeezing my hands. "I'm so excited tonight's finally here. I can't wait for you to see all we've planned. It's going to be so pretty. I love Christmas!"
"It's your big night, love," I laugh. Her happiness is infectious. Having her around the house brings a lightness and joy I've never known except in her presence. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
I pull her closer, breathing her in. These moments are easy—just me and Anna, no complications, no shadows.
My phone buzzes on the dresser. When I check it, I see a text from Isaak.
"Everything alright?" Anna asks, adjusting my tie with careful hands.
"Just confirming the security details for tonight." I tuck the phone away. "You ready? Car should be here in ten."
She nods, excitement evident in her eyes, but she pauses, a small frown creasing her brow. "Domhn... I just—I know things have been..." She trails off, searching for words.
"Complicated?" I offer, keeping my tone light.
She smiles, relief softening her features. "Yes. Complicated. But I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you do. How patient you've been."
My chest tightens. Anna doesn't miss much, despite what people might think. She sees the strain of the balancing act I'm performing. The way I'm constantly gauging who I'm with—Anna or Mads—and how to react in response.
"I just want you to be happy," I say, and mean it. "Both of you."
Her fingers trace along my jaw. "I know. But it's okay to admit it's hard sometimes. I know this hasn't been easy on you, and—"
I capture her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm to cut her off. "I've never been afraid of hard work."
The truth might be a little more complicated. I used to be stoic. Emotionless, I thought, apart from my sadism.
But now, long after I thought I knew who I was, color has suddenly returned, and some days I walk around feeling like I'm made of glass, every step a risk of shattering. It's an uncomfortable sensation for a man like me. When I'm with Anna, who's so joyful, I feel a love so full it's like a balloon filling my chest till I'm sure I'll burst. But then Mads—wild, reckless, demanding Mads—reminds me I don't have to deny my darkness, either. Which I'm not sure I ever could, no matter how much I might long to bask in the sunshine forever. There's always still a storm inside me.