The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 101

Chapter 52: Let Me Hold You-2

She froze.

Her mouth opened.

Closed.

Tried again. “Because I… I… no, I-”

But she didn’t get the chance to finish.

Damien crossed the final inches between them in a single breath-his presence overwhelming, his voice a husky whisper that slid down her spine like silk and smoke.

“I’ll tell you why,” he murmured, his lips so close she could taste the heat of them. “Because it should only ever be me.”

The air around them went still.

Thick with something electric. Breathless.

For one suspended moment, he didn’t move-just watched her.

And then, with a swift, fluid motion-he pulled her into him. Fierce. Full-bodied. Unapologetic.

Her head hit his chest, and the impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

Maya stiffened-caught between shock and something else. Something warmer. Deeper.

Safe.

Because this wasn’t like Ashcroft’s playful embrace earlier.

This was a claim.

Damien’s arms wrapped around her like he couldn’t let go. Like he wouldn’t.

And before she could think, her body responded-arms lifting, curling around him, holding tight.

Her cheek rested against his chest, her heartbeat tripping to match his.

“Just… let me hold you. Okay?” he whispered, voice low and strained.

Maya exhaled shakily, the last of her walls cracking.

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She nodded.

Permission-silent, but sure.

And then… he inhaled against the side of her neck. Slow. Possessive. Like he was memorizing her scent. Like she was air after drowning.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured.

Then, lower… darker…

“And I hate seeing other men hug you.”

Her heart skipped a beat-then two.

Vulnerability. Jealousy. Need. It all tangled in the quiet space between them.

The world outside the suite faded, forgotten.

And in that moment, it was just the two of them-holding on, holding back, and holding something fragile that neither dared to name. – Yet.

Maya felt the weight of Damien’s arms around her-the strength, the warmth, the unspoken promise of his presence.

His scent-clean, dark, undeniably him-wrapped around her like a second skin. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break the spell.

She stayed there, held tight in his arms, letting the silence stretch-too full to speak, too sacred to break.

She knew she should say something. But everything inside her felt fragile.

When she finally found her voice, it was soft. Tentative. Almost afraid to disturb the moment.

“… How was your trip?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

His chin brushed her temple as he exhaled, the sound quiet… but heavy. Like her question touched something deeper than jet lag.

“Exhausting,” he murmured. “But necessary. Things had to be… put in order.”

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