CHAPTER FORTY–NINE
CHAPTER FORTY–NINE
GABRIELLE’S POV
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“What?” I asked, unsure I heard him correctly.
He took my hand and placed it on his chest. I felt his heart beat faster, then steadied again, thumping softly under my palm.
His eyes softened. “Gabrielle… let’s just stay this way for a while.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
“Damon…” I whispered, unsure if I wanted to say more, and unsure if words would ruin this fragile thread between us.
“I need you, Gabrielle,” he said, his eyes still on mine. “Touch me.”
He took my other hand and placed it on my chest, nudging both hands to move. I caressed his chest, feeling his heart beat spike occasionally, and moved down to his abs.
I could feel the tension coiling through him, and the quiet desperation in his gaze urging me on.
“Gabrielle…” he murmured, his voice rough, low, and almost broken. “Don’t stop.”
I let my hands wander a little further, tracing the planes of his body, feeling the warmth beneath my palms.
He turned to his side and wrapped one arm around my waist, his face pressing on my stomach. My hand still ran along his back, caressing him softly.
This was….new.
I wondered what must have happened to make him this exhausted and whatever else he was feeling.
I cleared my throat softly. “Damon, is this about that box?”
He didn’t respond.
I cupped his cheek and turned his face slightly to find him already fast asleep.
He looked so peaceful, his usual intensity softened into something vulnerable and human. The coldness that usually radiated off him like ice was gone, replaced by quiet exhaustion.
I continued caressing his skin softly, afraid that even the slightest sudden movement might wake him.
I felt a strange warmth bloom in my chest against better judgment. It was protective, tender, and ache–inducing.
I leaned back on the bed frame and it didn’t take long for me to fall asleep.
***
I yawned and stretched as I woke up.
It took me a couple of seconds to realize where I was. I was covered with a duvet on Damon’s bed, wearing a white hoodie over my dress.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, and saw that it was snowing through the window. The fireplace was burning and Damon was sitting in front of it.
He was wearing a different pair of pants now but he was still shirtless.
“Why are you shirtless in this weather?” I asked softly.
He turned to me, his eyes dark in the dim light. “Look who’s awake.”
CHAPTER FORTY–NINE
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“You didn’t answer my question.”
He turned back to the fireplace and drank from the glass in his hand. “I’m warm from the fire.”
I got off the bed and walked slowly to him. “Can I have a sip?”
He passed his glass. “Don’t finish it all, drunk.”
I frowned but snatched the glass from his hands anyway. I couldn’t tell what drink it was but I downed everything in one go out of sheer spite.
Avictorious smile formed on my lips as I passed the cup back. A victorious smile that disappeared as soon as it had appeared from the burn in my chest.
“Fuck,” I coughed. “What the hell was that?”
“I told you not to finish it,” he said as he stood up, walked to the table, and poured himself another round.
He didn’t return to the chair in front of the fireplace. He stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection intently.
I suddenly remembered the events that happened before we slept. The heat from the fireplace was making me too warm so I
took the hoodie off.
“How have you been coping with things?” He suddenly asked.
“Coping with that?”
“With your identity crisis,” he answered, taking a sip from his drink.
I froze for a second, the hoodie slipping from my hands as his words hit me.
“My… identity crisis?” I echoed, raising a brow.
“You told me you’ve been dealing with it since your sister’s betrayal.”
I bit my lip, feeling a mixture of defensiveness. “Oh, I remember now,” I responded, still unsure how to answer. “It’s still the
same.”
He finally turned to me. “Come,” he said.
I walked closer until I was standing in front of him. He held my shoulders and turned me to the mirror. I stared back at our reflection, catching his eyes with mine.
He was so close, I could feel the heat emitting from him. “When you look into the mirror what do you see?”
All I could see was him, not even myself. I didn’t want to see myself. It reminded me too much of Emily.
“I see you,” I responded, my voice coming out softer than I’d have liked,
He shook his head. “I’m not talking about me. Look at yourself, Gabrielle. Look at your brown, expressive, doe eyes. Look at your own face.”
I didn’t want to, but I had no other rock to hide under. I stared back at my reflection but swallowed back the emotions that rose to my throat.
“Okay,” I said. “I see myself. That’s nothing new.”
His hand reached for the strap of my dress and pulled it down slowly. The dress fell around my feet, exposing my breasts and
undies.
I should have been embarrassed by how intensely he was staring at me but I wasn’t
CHAPTER FORTY–NINE
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His hand slipped into the band of my lacy underwear, causing a soft gasp to escape my lips as his hand brushed my skin. He tugged off my panties and knelt so I could step out of them.
I was completely naked in front of the mirror with him now standing behind me.
“What do you see now?” He asked.
My confidence melted and I reached out to cover myself but he caught my hands and pulled them down.
Without another word, he reached to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. He took it off and stood there with nothing on but his Calvin Klein briefs.
God… Damon could pass for a model. No, scratch that. He could pass for a fucking Greek god.
His hand reached to take off his shorts and I forced my eyes to his face in the mirror. My breath turned shallow as he stripped
out of them.
Now, we were both naked in front of the mirror. I kept my eyes up, too shy to look down at his cock.
He was close again. “I see a woman who’s been through so much in such a short time. But I also see a survivor, a bold, fierce woman and I see someone who can overcome everything.”
A different kind of warmth spread in my chest.
“Tell me what you see when you look at me,” he whispered, his voice brushing my neck.
I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my spine as my pulse hammered in my ears.
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.

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