The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 41

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane**

**Chapter 41**

**Gemma**

Cassian stands over me, an imposing figure, his dark hair cascading like a raven’s wing across his piercing midnight blue eyes. The intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down my spine.

“What are you doing?” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes flicker nervously to the swinging kitchen doors, each one adorned with small, round windows that seem to mock my fear. “Someone could come in. Someone might see.”

“Might they?” he replies, his voice low and dangerous, a growl that resonates deep within me, like a predator savoring the thrill of the hunt.

I find myself ensnared between him and the countertop, the cool surface pressing against my back. There’s no retreating from him, and strangely, I don’t want to.

“God, you smell so damn good,” he murmurs, his breath warm as he buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. “Like a summer night filled with blooming flowers.”

A shiver races through me, and I almost moan with delight. My heart pounds fiercely in my chest, a wild drum echoing the thrill of his words. He’s never spoken to me like this before, and it sends my senses into a frenzy.

“Yes, they might see,” I whisper again, though I can’t deny the way my body leans into his, arching against him as if drawn by an invisible force. I nearly lose my balance, my hands instinctively clutching at his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady myself.

He leans closer, his entire body pressing against mine, his hips shifting slightly. I gasp, feeling the undeniable heat radiating from him. He’s so solid, so perfectly aligned with me in this moment.

“So what?” he replies, his lips brushing against my cheek, sending sparks of electricity coursing through my skin. “You’re my wife.”

“Your secret wife. No one can know,” I remind him, a hint of urgency creeping into my voice.

“Who said that?” he challenges, his expression playful yet intense.

I frown, genuinely pulling back slightly, searching his face for clarity. “You did!”

“Did I? Maybe I should reconsider,” he says, a teasing smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. It’s so devastatingly alluring that I feel my breath hitch in my throat, as if the very air has been stolen from me.

Is he… teasing me? This playful side of him is new, and it leaves me dizzy with confusion and excitement.

My heart races, and I can hardly think straight. The proximity of his body is intoxicating; my panties are already damp with desire. If he continues this playful banter, I might just faint from the overwhelming sensations.

Why does he suddenly want me like this?

“Re-reconsider?” I manage to gasp as he shifts his hips again, pressing his hardness against me in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body.

“Yes. I can’t have you going around telling people I’m a dead drunk who’s bad in bed, can I?” he retorts, his mouth lowering to my ear, where he playfully nips at my earlobe. I gasp, feeling a rush of heat pooling between my legs.

I ache for his touch, a craving unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s as if my very soul is yearning for him.

“Take it back,” he whispers, his voice rough and enticing, sending shivers racing down my spine.

I cry out, my body instinctively bucking against his hand, seeking more, yearning for his touch on my bare skin. I need him closer, need his mouth on my breasts, need him inside me, driving me wild.

As if he can read my thoughts, he deftly catches the fabric of my panties with one finger and moves it aside, exposing me to his touch.

He slides his first finger through my wet heat, teasingly dragging it up to my clit. With deliberate slowness, he begins to make smooth, tantalizing circles.

I brace myself against the counter, my mind racing with the knowledge that we are breaking all kinds of health codes, but I can’t bring myself to care. Cassian is touching me again, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s how I’ve dreamt of him touching me every night, just before waking up tangled in my sheets, breathless and longing.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice dripping with possessiveness. “All worked up for me. Already so close to coming just from this.”

A whimper escapes my lips as I arch my back, completely at a loss for words.

He’s right; I’m teetering on the edge, so close to shattering into a million pieces right here, right now.

I feel as if every fiber of my being is twisted tightly, and all it would take is one more move, one fleeting glance, one whispered word, and I would unravel completely.

In the back of my mind, a rational voice screams at me.

Am I really about to do this?

Am I truly going to let Cassian Blackwell take me in a commercial kitchen where anyone could walk in at any moment?