Exclusive Bonus Scene
Thank you for reading Vertical Integration! Here’s your exclusive bonus scene.
BONUS SCENE: The Thermostat War
Six Months After the Epilogue
WARNING: This scene contains explicit sexual content intended for mature readers only.
Chloe woke at 2 AM, eight months pregnant and absolutely freezing.
She reached blindly for the thermostat controls on Damon’s side of the bed, only to find his hand already there, blocking her access.
“Don’t even think about it,” his voice rumbled in the darkness.
“It’s sixty-two degrees. I’m pregnant and cold.”
“You’re always cold. That’s why I bought you those cashmere blankets.”
“The blankets aren’t enough. I need warmth. Real warmth.” She tried to reach past him. “Just let me turn it up to sixty-eight—”
“Absolutely not. We agreed on sixty-five.”
“That was before I was carrying an extra twenty-five pounds and running a personal furnace that somehow still leaves me freezing.” She glared at him in the dim light from the city below. “Move your hand, Steele.”
“Make me, Mrs. Steele.”
Oh, it was like that, was it?
Chloe rolled—well, maneuvered with significant effort given her size—on top of him, straddling his hips. Her very pregnant belly pressed against his abs. “Move. Your. Hand.”
His hands settled on her hips instead, thumbs tracing circles on her skin through her nightgown. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll use the tactics available to me.”
“Which are?”
She rolled her hips, grinding against him. Even through her nightgown and his boxer briefs, she could feel him already half-hard. “Persuasion.”
His grip on her hips tightened. “That’s playing dirty.”
“All’s fair in thermostat wars.” She did it again, slower this time, and was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath. “What’s it going to be? Sixty-eight degrees, or I’m stopping right now and going to sleep in the guest room where I control the temperature.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
They stared at each other in the darkness. Chloe could see the exact moment Damon made his decision—his eyes went dark, his jaw set, and his hands slid up to cup her breasts.
“Counter-offer,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll let you set it to sixty-seven—”
“Sixty-eight.”
“Sixty-seven and a half, and that’s my final offer. But—” His thumbs found her nipples through the silk, circling until she gasped. “You have to earn it.”
“Earn it how?”
“Let me show you.”
He flipped them with surprising gentleness, rolling her onto her back and settling between her spread thighs. The position was more awkward now with her belly between them, but Damon had become an expert at pregnancy sex over the past eight months.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, pushing her nightgown up over her hips. “Round with my baby. Glowing. All mine.”
“Less talking, more earning me my thermostat victory.”
His laugh was dark. “So demanding. I love it when you’re bossy.”
He kissed his way down her body—her neck, her breasts, the swell of her belly. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he looked up at her with wicked intent.
“Here’s the deal. I’m going to make you come. Multiple times. And for every orgasm, you get one degree added to the thermostat.”
Chloe’s breath caught. “That’s—”
“Fair? Generous? The best offer you’re going to get?” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. “You wanted sixty-eight. That’s six orgasms, Mrs. Steele. Think you can handle it?”
Challenge flickered in his eyes. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing—turning the thermostat war into foreplay.
“I can handle anything you give me,” she said.
“We’ll see.” He pulled her panties aside. “That’s one degree right there for being confident.”
Then his mouth was on her, and strategic thinking became impossible.
He started slow, almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world. Long, languid strokes of his tongue that made her hips lift off the bed. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, where to apply just enough pressure to make her see stars.
The first orgasm built slowly, waves rolling through her until she was gasping his name. He worked her through it, then pulled back with a satisfied smile.
“That’s sixty-three degrees,” he announced. “Five more to go.”
“Damon—”
“Shh. I’m not done with you yet.”
The second one he gave her with his fingers, two of them curling inside her while his thumb circled her clit. This one hit faster, harder, and she had to bite her lip to keep from waking Maya in the nursery down the hall.
“Sixty-four,” Damon said, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Halfway there.”
“This is torture.”
“This is negotiation.” He kissed her swollen belly. “Our daughter is lucky. She’s going to grow up knowing her parents believe in healthy compromise.”
“Our daughter is going to grow up thinking her father is insane.”
“Probably true.” He moved up her body, positioned himself at her entrance. “Ready for number three?”
“Please.”
He pushed inside her slowly, carefully, mindful of her pregnancy. The angle was different now, but somehow even better—he hit places that made her breath catch and her toes curl.
“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, setting a slow, deep rhythm. “So tight. So perfect. So mine.”
“Yours,” she gasped. “Always yours.”
He made love to her with focused intensity, one hand between them to stimulate her clit, the other braced beside her head. When the third orgasm hit, it rolled through her in waves, pulling him over the edge with her.
“Sixty-five,” he panted against her neck. “Three more, baby. You can do it.”
“I need a break.”
“No breaks. We’re on a thermostat deadline here.” But he was gentle as he pulled out, as he rearranged them so she was on her side and he was spooned behind her. “This position better?”
“Much.” She could feel him still hard against her ass. “You didn’t finish.”
“I did. But you know I have excellent recovery time when properly motivated.” His hand slid around to cup her breast. “And watching my very pregnant wife come apart for me is extremely motivating.”
He entered her from behind, slow and easy, his hand working between her legs. This position let him go deeper, hit different angles, and Chloe could feel number four building already.
“That’s it,” Damon encouraged, his voice rough in her ear. “Give me another one. Show me how much you want that thermostat control.”
“I want it,” she moaned. “God, I want it.”
“Then take it. Come for me.”
She did, crying out into the pillow, her whole body clenching around him. He groaned and followed her over, spilling inside her with a muttered curse.
“Sixty-six,” he gasped. “Two more.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” He pulled out carefully, turned her onto her back again. “Two more and you win. Two more and you get your sixty-eight degrees.”
He went down on her again, and Chloe thought she might actually die from overstimulation. But Damon was relentless, using his mouth and fingers in combination until she was writhing and begging.
The fifth orgasm was almost painful in its intensity. She had to cover her own mouth to muffle the scream, her body arching off the bed as pleasure crashed through her.
“Sixty-seven,” Damon said, looking enormously pleased with himself. “One more, sweetheart. Give me one more and you win the war.”
“I can’t. It’s too much.”
“Yes, you can. Because you’re brilliant and stubborn and you never back down from a challenge.” He kissed her softly. “One more. For me.”
He made love to her one last time, slow and sweet and almost unbearably tender. His hand worked between them, his mouth swallowed her moans, and when the sixth orgasm finally hit—smaller than the others but somehow more intimate—she felt tears leak from the corners of her eyes.
“Sixty-eight,” Damon whispered, kissing them away. “You win, baby. You win.”
He pulled out, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and adjusted the thermostat app. Immediately, she heard the HVAC system kick on.
“Sixty-eight degrees,” he confirmed, showing her the screen. “As promised.”
Chloe lay there, thoroughly wrecked, watching her husband with wonder. “You’re insane.”
“I’m in love. There’s a difference.” He climbed back into bed, pulled her into his arms. “Besides, you enjoyed that.”
“I’m not admitting anything.”
“You just came six times in forty-five minutes. I think that’s an admission.”
She swatted his chest weakly. “You’re very pleased with yourself.”
“I am. I just made my very pregnant wife scream my name multiple times and gave her exactly what she wanted. I’d say that’s winning.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Even if I did lose the thermostat war.”
“You didn’t lose. You negotiated a mutually satisfying compromise.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what I’m calling it in my head so I don’t have to admit you turned me into a puddle of orgasmic bliss.”
His laugh rumbled through his chest. “I love you. So fucking much.”
“I love you too.” She yawned, suddenly exhausted. “Even though you’re controlling and impossible and you weaponize foreplay.”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“True.” She was already drifting off, warm finally, satisfied, happy. “Next time I want sixty-nine degrees though.”
“That’s going to require a very specific position.”
Even half-asleep, she managed to laugh. “You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
She did. God help her, she really did.
Chloe fell asleep in her husband’s arms, at exactly sixty-eight degrees, thoroughly loved and completely satisfied.
And in the morning, when she woke to find the thermostat mysteriously back at sixty-five, she didn’t even complain.
Because she knew exactly how to win it back.
And she was very much looking forward to the negotiation.
THE END
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