Chapter 114

"June," Brandon rasped, his hands possessive as they found my waist, pulling me flush against him. The air in the study was thick, charged with an intensity that made the room feel small. He looked at me with a gaze that was raw and unfiltered, his eyes searching mine until my breath hitched in my throat.

I reached for the buttons of his shirt, my fingers trembling slightly. The world outside—the clock ticking midnight, the distant sound of the waves—all of it faded. There was only the warmth of his skin and the rhythmic thrum of his heart against my palms.

As the silk gave way, I traced the hard planes of his chest, my touch light against his skin. He let out a low sound, a breath of pure, unadulterated longing that sent a fresh wave of heat through me. In the golden glow of the desk lamp, every touch felt amplified, every whisper a spark to a growing fire.

He lifted me effortlessly, settling me on the desk among the scattered papers. The contrast of the cool mahogany against my skin and the searing heat of his presence was overwhelming. We lost ourselves in a whirlwind of shared breath and whispered promises, a desperate, beautiful collision of two people who had spent too long holding back.

The hours blurred into a haze of shadows and light. The study became a sanctuary where the only language we spoke was one of connection and need. It was fierce, unyielding, and completely all-consuming—a private world built just for the two of us.

Finally, as the first hint of pre-dawn light began to touch the windows, Brandon scooped me up. His arms were steady as he carried me toward the bathroom. The warm water felt like a blessing as it cascaded over us, washing away the traces of our long night. He was tender now, his hands soft as he helped me clean up, his eyes never leaving mine. He dried me gently and tucked me into bed, his soft whispers the last thing I heard before sleep finally claimed me.

I woke feeling like I'd spent the night cuddled against a human furnace. Brandon was still asleep beside me—a rare sight. Usually, he was up before dawn, dressed and working before I even opened my eyes.

There was something fascinating about watching him sleep. All that intensity, all that power, temporarily subdued by unconsciousness. Brandon was always gentle with me, but I'd seen glimpses of the ruthless businessman everyone feared—the Wall Street shark who could destroy companies with a single phone call.

But right now? He looked almost at peace. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching his expression with amusement.

His eyelids snapped open suddenly, that predatory alertness instantly present. But when he registered my face, the sharpness in his gaze softened immediately.

"Awake already?" His voice was deliciously rough with sleep, a low rumble that vibrated through me.

I felt a flutter of shyness, like I'd been caught in a private moment. I nodded, about to slide out of bed when his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

"It's the weekend," he said, his chin grazing my cheek as his fingers traced my jawline. "Let's sleep in. You were so exhausted that you fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow last night."

Heat rushed to my face as the memories of the study flooded back. I bit my lip, giving him an accusatory look. "That was your fault!"

I reached back to massage my lower back, wincing slightly at the soreness that radiated through my muscles. Brandon noticed and chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "What are you thinking about?"

I slipped my hand under the hem of his shirt, pinching his waist in retaliation. "I'm thinking about when I should banish you back to the guest room. You seemed perfectly comfortable there before." I tried to look fierce, gritting my teeth for effect.