Lydia wasn’t sure what woke her—his absence or her craving for him. Damian’s side of the bed was cold, empty, like he’d never been there at all. But his scent still clung to her skin, a mix of smoke, musk, and the kind of sin no amount of showering could ever cleanse.She slipped into one of his black silk shirts—barely buttoned—and padded through the penthouse. Moonlight pooled on marble floors. Silence stretched long and taut.Until she found him.Damian stood in the kitchen, shirtless, sipping whiskey, bathed in silver light. Shadows danced across the hard lines of his body, his tattoos curling like secrets across his chest. His eyes snapped to hers as if he felt her watching.“You couldn’t sleep either,” he said, voice rough.“I could’ve,” Lydia said, stepping closer, “but my body was still aching for you.”His jaw tightened.“Power doesn’t fade when the lights go out, Damian,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over his abs, then lower. “It lingers.”He caught her wrist. “And co
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