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Chapter 43 – Ours At Last
Arya's POV
For the first time in a long while, life felt soft.
There were no harsh edges, no sharp disappointments waiting to cut me in the dark. Just warmth. Peace. And Damon. It still surprised me how much he'd changed — not just for me, but for us. The coldness I once feared in his eyes had melted, replaced with something patient and tender. Love.
We were falling back into rhythm — but this time, it was real.
He'd insisted on cooking dinner tonight, and despite my teasing, I let him. When I walked into the dining room and saw what he'd prepared, my heart stuttered.
Candles flickered gently across the table, their golden glow bathing the room in romance. A soft playlist played in the background — some classic soul songs, warm and slow. The smell of grilled chicken in creamy sauce filled the air, and two glasses of red wine stood waiting.
"You didn't have to go all out," I murmured, stunned.
"I wanted to." Damon stepped forward, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "You deserve more than just flowers and apologies. I want to give you memories."
He pulled out a chair for me. My chest fluttered. This wasn't just dinner — this was love in every detail.
As we ate, we talked about everything and nothing. Work. Art. The weather. The gallery. His company. He kept reaching across the table, brushing my fingers, laughing at my sarcasm, complimenting everything from my dress to my eyes like it was the first time he was seeing me.
And in a way, it was. This was a new beginning.
After dinner, he stood and offered his hand. "Come with me."
I hesitated, my breath catching. But I placed my hand in his.
He led me upstairs.
The room was dimly lit, soft fairy lights glowing across the headboard. The bed was freshly made, and the air smelled like vanilla and something masculine — Damon's cologne.
"Damon..." I began, nerves rushing in like a tide.
He turned to face me, his hand gently cupping my cheek. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
I looked into his eyes and saw it — the sincerity, the softness. Not pressure. Not expectation. Just love.
"I'm ready," I whispered.
His lips brushed mine — slow, patient, reverent.
It wasn't rushed, not like those first kisses we'd shared when emotions ran too high. This kiss was deliberate, tender. He held me like I was precious. Like I was art.
Clothes came off piece by piece, each layer shed like old pain, until we stood bare in front of each other — not just physically, but emotionally too. Vulnerable. Exposed. Free.
His hands moved across my skin like he was memorizing every inch of me. My scars. My curves. My stretch marks. He kissed them like they were sacred.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "Every inch of you."
I'd waited so long for this moment. Not just for the act itself, but for what it meant. Intimacy. Trust. Letting someone all the way in — not just into my body, but my soul.
We laid down together, and he hovered over me, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?"
I nodded, pulling him closer. "Make me yours."
And he did.
Every movement was slow and intentional, like we had all the time in the world. He whispered my name like a prayer, touching me with devotion. Our bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, as if we'd been made for this moment.
It wasn't just sex. It was healing.
It was me finally letting go of the pain Damon had once caused. It was him showing me through every kiss and every caress that he was no longer that man. It was us — creating something new out of the broken pieces we'd once scattered.
When it was over, we laid tangled in the sheets, his arms wrapped tightly around me, my head resting on his chest. His heartbeat was steady and calming.
"I love you," he whispered, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back.
I smiled against his skin. "I love you too."
He tilted my chin up and kissed me again. "Thank you for giving me another chance."
"Thank you for becoming the man I prayed for."
He held me tighter, as if he never wanted to let go. And honestly, neither did I.
That night, I drifted to sleep in his arms — no nightmares, no doubts. Just Damon, just love. And for once, I didn't feel like I was holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For once, I felt safe. Whole. Loved.
And maybe... finally, this was the beginning of forever.
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