Chapter NineThe Fire and the FallHe kissed me like it was the last time.That’s how it started.No pretense. No warm-up. Just his mouth on mine—desperate, all-consuming, like the truth behind it was too big to breathe.And maybe it was.Because when we broke apart, the air crackled with the weight of what was coming.“I told her,” Damon said.I blinked. “Told who?”“Lila.”The blood drained from my face.“You what?”He ran a hand down his face. “I couldn’t keep lying. She asked. I told her.”My knees went weak.“What did she say?”He looked at me.And that look told me everything.“Oh my god,” I whispered. “She hates me.”“She’s angry,” he admitted. “But it’s not just that.”“She feels betrayed,” I said, throat tight. “Because I was her best friend.”“You still are,” he said sharply. “This doesn’t erase what you meant to her. Or what she meant to you.”“You don’t know that.”“I do.”I pulle
Chapter EightShe Was Here First“You’re not the first girl I’ve done this with.”That’s how he started.No warning. No softening of the blow.Just those words conveniently wrapped in steel and stabbed ruthlessly into my chest like a knife. I didn’t speak, I couldn’t. My throat felt tight, my skin flushed, but not with heat this time.With shame and jealousy.“She followed you,” Damon said. “Because she’s been waiting and watching me ever since I ended it.”I stared at him.“You… ended it?”He nodded once. “Two years ago. She didn’t take it well.”“What was her name?”“Elena.”My stomach flipped.“Elena,” I repeated. “And what was she to you?”He exhaled through his nose. “My daughter’s best friend.”I went cold. It was like being doused in ice water.“You—” My voice broke. “You fucked Lila’s best friend before me?”“Yes.”“And you thought I wouldn’t care?”“I didn’t plan on caring either,” he said, eyes dark. “But then I met you.”I laughed—it sounded sharp, bitter and ugly.“So this
Chapter SevenHis World, His RulesI didn’t sleep.Not because Damon kept touching me—though he did.It was how he touched me. Like he didn’t know where I ended and he began. Like he was mapping me into memory, studying the way I breathed, the way I sighed, the way my thigh twitched when he dragged his fingertips over my skin.He didn’t speak much. Just watched me.And kissed my shoulder.And rubbed circles into my hipbone.By morning, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.I sat up in his bed, my hair a mess, my dress discarded somewhere on the floor, his t-shirt stretched over my body.Damon was already awake.He was sitting in the chair by the window, shirtless, wearing only black slacks, a coffee mug balanced in one hand.“You don’t sleep,” I said, rubbing my eyes.“Not well.”“Because of me?”His eyes flicked to mine. “Because I want you more than I should.”I swallowed.The room felt charged again. Like the night had never ended. Like it would never end.“I should go,” I said, though
Chapter SixUnder the Table, Over the EdgeThe restaurant was too nice for my dress.That’s what I thought the moment we walked in—Damon beside me, Lila on his other side, all three of us bathed in soft lighting and surrounded by the quiet murmur of polished diners.He insisted on taking us out to celebrate Lila’s internship offer.And I—fool that I am—agreed.Because I thought I could sit across from him in public and behave.Because I thought he could keep his hands to himself.I was wrong.From the moment I slid into the booth across from him, I saw the heat in his eyes. The tightness in his jaw. The way his hand balled into a fist in his lap when I crossed my legs.It was going to be a problem.Especially when Lila got up to go to the restroom.“You’re going to behave,” I whispered, picking up my wine.He didn’t blink. “No.”“You can’t—Damon—”His foot nudged mine under the table.Then again. Up. Slow. To my calf.I nearly choked on the wine.“You’re insane.”His voice was like a
Chapter FiveClose Calls and Closer BodiesThere was something sinful about sneaking through his house, knowing his daughter was just a wall away. Something that made me wetter before he even touched me.I wasn’t supposed to love it. I wasn’t supposed to crave it.But I did.Every whisper of danger, heavy look across the dinner table and phantom graze of his fingers when he passed behind me in the kitchen. Damon knew how to torture without laying a hand on me.And I was getting addicted to the ache.I came to him before dinner that night just twenty minutes before the lasagna in the oven finished heating. He’d left his study door cracked open and I took it as an invitation and slipped in silently.He didn’t look up from his laptop.“Lock the door.”The command slid down my spine like a caress.I turned the lock.He didn’t say anything else, just pushed back from the desk, spread his knees wide, and patted his thigh.My throat went dry.I walked over slowly, eyes locked on his, pulse s
Chapter FourThe Trouble with MorningsI woke to the sound of the shower running. For a split second, I didn’t remember where I was then I looked around.Gray sheets, hardwood floors, leather armchair in the corner, his scent in the air.Damon’s room.I stretched under his covers, completely bare, sore in the best ways possible.The bathroom door cracked open. Steam spilled out. Then came Damon—damp, towel slung low on his hips, chest glistening with his hair slicked back.He froze when he saw me awake, blinking like he hadn’t expected me to still be there.“You stayed.”“Is that a problem?”He shook his head slowly, eyes dark. “No.”I sat up and the sheet fell around my waist. His gaze dropped instantly.“I didn’t hear you get up,” I said.“You looked too peaceful.”“I was wrecked.”“I remember.”He came closer. Sat on the edge of the bed, hand sliding over my bare thigh. “You always sleep naked?”“No.”He raised a brow. “So just for me?”“You make clothes feel… irrelevant.”He leane