In His Sheets

Chloe’s head pounded like a drum as she slowly opened her eyes. Her mouth felt dry and her eyelids were heavy.

“Shit.” She whispered, trying to remember what happened but everything seemed like a blurred memory.

As she twisted under the covers, her body opposed each movement. The sheets felt smooth beneath her bare skin.

Wait — Bare skin?

Chloe looked under the covers, only to find herself naked. She groaned as she sat up holding the sheet to her chest as she buried her face in it and her heart began to race.

What happened? This wasn’t her bed or her room and the faint scent of cologne on the pillows made her very much aware that she hadn’t been alone all night.

“What have you done, Chloe?” She scolded herself. As she tried to move, her head pounded again, her hangover still very fresh.

Chloe scanned the room. Her clothes. Where were her clothes?

She turned and spotted her black stilettos placed by the door and her silk blouse and skirt draped over an armchair.

She scrambled out of bed, nearly tipping over something — an empty bottle of scotch. “Seriously?” she groaned in frustration, snatching up her clothes. She slipped into her blouse, cursing under her breath as she fumbled with the zipper on her skirt.

Chloe didn’t wait another second.

She yanked the door open, only to slam into a wall of heat and muscle. A strong scent of cedar and something darker washed over her before firm hands steadied her waist.

“Whoa!,” came a deep and intoxicating voice. “Easy there.”

Chloe froze, slowly looking up.

Her eyes locked onto him. Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp jawline, piercing brown eyes, tousled dark hair. And that smirk? Her stomach flipped. She swallowed, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

“You,” she breathed.

His smirk deepened. “Yes. Me.”

Chloe shoved against his chest but he didn’t budge. “MOVE.” she snapped.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, his voice low and raspy, “I was wondering when you’d finally wake up.” He tilted his head, scanning her quietly.

Chloe’s cheek burned with embarrassment. She yanked herself free, desperate to escape. “I… I need to go.” She stuttered. Her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Running off so soon?” His smirk widened, as if this was all some game to him.

She squinted, frustrated with herself. “Didn’t you hear what I said…I need to go.” She repeated, pushing past him.

He grabbed her wrist lightly, pulling her back. “Don’t be like that. We had a good time last night,” he said, a mischievous grin curling his lips.

Chloe’s steps paused. She slowly looked down. “I don’t even remember much of it,” she admitted, as if disappointed.

His expression shifted, as if being challenged. “Would you like me to remind you?” His voice dropped low and seductive.

The air thickened between them as his fingers found her chin, tilting her face just enough to catch the uncertainty in her face.

He was close. Too close.

His thumb traced her jaw, a light touch that sent chills racing down her spine. He leaned in, his breath warmed against her neck, teasing the sensitive skin just below her ear.

His hands slid down her back, gliding over her silk blouse, pulling her closer.

Oh God. No.

Chloe’s pulse skipped, stuttered, then raced.

For a second, she hated how effortlessly he made this feel. How her body betrayed her, despite her brain screaming at her to GET OUT.

There was a pull, an undeniable pull she didn’t want to admit. Yet here she was, wrestling herself.

Snapping back to reality, she jerked away, slapping his hand off.

“Get your hands off me.” She snapped. “I need to leave, now.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, you said that,” he grunted, stepping back.

He was enjoying this.

Chloe scowled, grabbing her heels. “Get out of my way.”

His smile didn’t waver. “I’m not stopping you, sweetheart.”

She shot him a final glare, hot enough to burn through anything. She was upset, more at herself than him.

He gave a slow nod, as he stepped aside. Without wasting a second, Chloe ran past him, her heels clicking against each other in her hands.

Damien's POV

Damien Cross leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, as he watched Chloe storm out of his penthouse like the room was on fire.

DAMN!!. She was a feisty one. He thought to himself.

He smirked, shaking his head as the door swung shut behind her. That was fun.

Women didn't usually run from him. They lingered, stretched in his sheets, teased for another round. Chloe? She bolted like she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life!!

But this wasn’t a mistake to Damien. It wasn’t some random fling. He’d known exactly what he was doing the moment he invited her in.

His gaze shifted to the rumpled sheets where her skin had pressed to his, soft, warm and pleasurable.

He smirked.

“She doesn’t remember much, huh?” He muttered to himself, running a hand over his jaw.

That’s a pity. Because last night had been unforgettable.

He reached for the bottle of scotch she’d nearly tripped over, her red lipstick still visible on the lid, before taking a slow sip.

His mind flickered back to last night, the way she arched beneath his hands, the way her breath hitched when his lips trailed down her neck.

The desperate softness of her hands gripping his arms, fighting the pull, yet surrendering anyway. The image of her — naked, breathless, grinding against him with desperation. The way she bit her lips trying to stifle her moans.

“Fuck!” Damien chuckled low, shaking off the sudden ache rising in his chest.

Maybe it was better she forgot. If she remembered, she wouldn’t have run so fast.

But something about her had hooked him.

The fire in her eyes when she fought him. The trembling just before she gave in.

That fight made it all the more addictive. Made her more addictive.

He drained the last of his drink and set the glass down with a quiet clink.

He had meetings and deals to close. As a billionaire and CEO of one of he most successful companies in the world, he shouldn’t be thinking about women now.

But this wasn’t just any woman, and Damien knew that well.

His reached for his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen before he slid it open.

Then with a flick of his thumb, he dialled a number he hadn’t saved.

“Hello?” A breathless, soft voice answered.

Damien inhaled sharply, the sound of her voice slicing through his composure like a blade wrapped in pleasure.

Even over the phone, she stirred something deep, something he had no business feeling.

He didn’t speak. He just sat there for a moment, letting the tension wrap around him.

“Hello?” she said again, this time firmer and more annoyed.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the image of her in his head.

“Hello, Chloe.” He grinned like a devil. “How much have you thought about me.”