The Morning Aftermath

Chloe woke up, her head pounding like a bass drum as she slowly opened her eyes. Her mouth felt dry and her eyelids were very heavy. "Shit" she whispered trying to recall events of the night before, but everything still seemed like a blurred out memory. She inhaled deeply thinking it was for the best.

As she twisted under the covers, her body opposed each movement. The sheets were luxurious, far too nice compared to the night she vaguely remembered.

She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest as she buried her face in it and her heart began to race. What was she doing? this wasn't her bed, this wasn't 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 muttered. Losing her balance as she sat up too quickly, the hangover punishing her for it. Her dress - where was her dress?. She scanned the room, spotting her stillettos discarded near the door, her black silk dress draping over an armchair.

Scrambling out of bed, she nearly tripped over on something - an empty bottle of macallan scotch. "seriously" she groaned in frustration, snatching up her clothes. She slipped into her dress, cursing under her breath as she fumbled with her zipper.

Chloe headed for the door, yanking it open only to be slammed straight into a solid wall of muscle. Large arms gripped her waist - steadying her. A deep amused voice followed. "Whoa, easy there!"

Chloe froze, slowly looking up.

Her eyes met him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. Piercing blue eyes. Touseled dark hair. And that smirk? Her stomach flipped. Chloe swallowed, loud enough to be heard.

"YOU" she breathed.

His smirk deepened. "Yes, me."

She pushed againt his chest. He didn't budge. "Move".

"Well, good morning to you too," he said,

his voice raspy and drawling. "I was wondering when you'd finally wake up."

Chloe's cheek burned with embarrassment, and she forcefully pulled away, ready to escape. "I....I need to go." She stuttered, barely audible.

"Running off so soon?" The smirk on his face widening as if this were all a joke to him.

She squinted in disappointment, scolding herself in her head. "I said i need to go". She repeated, charging past him.

"Don't be like that, we had a good time last night" he said, a mischievous smile creeping along his face.

Chloe's steps paused, slowly turning around, "I don't even remember much of it." She said sounding disappointed.

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

The air between them thickened as his fingers found her chin, tilting her face up - just enough.

He was close. Too close.

His thumb traced her jaw, a featherlight touch that sent chills down her spine. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, teasing the sensitive spot just below her ear.

His hands slowly gliding down the back, complementing her silk dress, enveloping her into an uncertain feeling.

Oh God No.

Chloe's pulse skipped, stuttered then raced.

For a split second, she hated how effortless he made this feel. How easily her body reacted, despite her brain screaming at her to GET OUT!

There was something - a pull she didn't want to acknowledge. But here she was fighting her own self.

As if drawn back to her senses.

She jerked back, slapping his hand away. "I said I need to go."

He let out a light chuckle. "So you've said" he grunted while taking a few steps back.

He was enjoying this.

Chloe scowled, snatching up her heels. "I'm leaving."

His smile didn't falter, "I won't stop you sweetheart."

She shot him one last glare, hot enough to have burned through steel. She was upset, more with herself than with him.

He gave her a nod as if approving of her walking away from him, and so she did.

Damien's POV

Damien Cross leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching as Chloe stormed 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.

Damien exhaled through his mouth, pushing off the doorframe. He should leave it at that. A one-night stand was a one-night stand. No names, no attachments.

But for some reason, he found himself walking back to the bed, his gaze flicking to the rumpled sheets where her body had been just minutes ago.

His smirk deepened.

"She doesn't remember much, huh?" he muttered to himself, running a hand over his jaw.

That's a pity.

Because last night? Last night had been unforgettable.

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

His mind replayed the way her body had fit against his. The way she'd melted into his touch, the little sounds she made when—

Damien stopped himself, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

Maybe it was a good thing she didn't remember. Because if she had, she wouldn't have left so easily.

But still, Something about her stuck.

Not just the way she looked—golden skin against his white sheets, wild hair, lips slightly swollen from his kisses. It was the way she'd pushed him, defied him.

After months of observing, he hadn't expected her to be this way.

The way she'd fought against her own reaction when he'd touched her again.

That fight made things… fun.

Damien downed the rest of his drink and set the glass aside. He had meetings, deals to close. He should be thinking about work, not some woman who ran out on him.

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

He reached for his phone, his fingers hesitated over the screen but only for a second.

Then with a flick of his thumb, he pulled up a contact.

A dial tone hummed in his ear. Once. Twice.

"Hello" a breathless annoyed voice answered.

Damien smirked. Leaning back in his chair.

Bingo.!