The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 78

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

**Chapter 78**

**Gemma**

It’s the soft caress of his lips against mine that completely unravels me.

His touch is so incredibly tender, so achingly gentle, that it feels as if he’s peeling back layers of my very soul. I can feel myself breaking open, and the only way to stitch myself back together is to rise onto my tiptoes, leaning in to press my lips to his with a desperate urgency.

“I’ll stay,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, aware that I’m teetering on the edge of a monumental mistake. “But only for tonight.”

He doesn’t reply with words; instead, he simply lowers himself, claiming my mouth with a kiss that is both fierce and greedy, igniting a fire within me that I can’t ignore.

Cassian has me pinned against the door, his body pressing into mine as he explores my mouth with a fervor that leaves me breathless.

Desire courses through me like wildfire in a parched field, and I can’t suppress the small, involuntary sounds escaping my lips as he thrusts his hips against me. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt this kind of raw, unbridled need before.

With one hand, he captures both of my wrists, holding them firmly yet possessively.

The other hand trails down my arm, lingering on the sensitive skin of my wrist, tracing the delicate curve of my elbow, and then gliding along the underside of my upper arm.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, he brings his hand lower, hooking his thumb into the neckline of my dress, dragging both the fabric and my bra down to reveal my breast.

“There has never been anything in the world as perfect as you,” he breathes against my ear, his voice a low, reverent whisper.

His teeth graze my earlobe just as the rough pad of his thumb brushes over my peaked nipple, sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

I gasp, a sound of surprise and longing escaping me, arching against him instinctively.

“This is going to be so much better than the first time,” he murmurs, his voice thick with promise. “I didn’t appreciate you then. But now, I’m going to take my time with you.”

“Cassian…” My voice is a mix of protest and desire, a plea for him to slow down, yet I know I don’t truly want him to stop.

He dips his head, pressing kisses along my jawline, then trailing down to my neck. I tilt my head back, surrendering to the sensations, my instincts urging me to yield to him, to open myself up to this powerful mafia boss.

Tonight, for once, he is going to shield me from the world.

Tonight, for the very first time, he is going to cherish me.

A deep-seated knowledge wells up within me, a certainty that I can’t quite place. It feels like it’s emerging from a hidden part of my soul that I’ve never dared to explore before. Lately, I’ve sensed something deeper within me, something that flares to life in brief, vivid flashes that feel almost surreal.

But all those thoughts dissipate as Cassian lowers his mouth to my nipple, swirling his tongue around it before closing his lips and sucking gently.

A bolt of pleasure strikes through me, and I can’t help but cry out, the sound echoing in the charged air between us.

Cassian stands tall, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, never breaking eye contact as the fabric peels back to reveal his chiseled chest and the smooth muscles of his abdomen.

I must be watching him with as much hunger as he’s watching me, because when our eyes lock, it feels as if actual sparks ignite in the air between us.

“You like what you see?” he asks, his voice a slow, sultry caress.

“Yes,” I whisper, barely able to contain the rush of excitement flooding through me.

He takes my hands, pulling me into a sitting position, then places my palms against his warm skin. As he shrugs off his shirt, it falls to the floor, forgotten.

I’ve always admired his physique, but I’ve never had the urge to explore his body in this way before.

I let my hands glide down his chest and abdomen, savoring the hot, silky texture of him beneath my fingertips.

When my fingers reach the waistband of his pants, I don’t hesitate. I undo the buckle, then the button, and slowly pull down the zipper of his fly.

“Gemma…” he breathes, his voice strained and thick with desire.

Just then, a sharp knock sounds at the door. “Mr. Blackwell!”

The moment hangs in the air, charged and electric, as reality intrudes upon our intimate world.