Wendy's Point of ViewI walked out of Damon's office with my head held high, a satisfied smile playing at my lips.He'd kissed me back.It had only been for a moment—brief, restrained, nothing like what I'd hoped for—but he'd responded. His mouth had moved against mine. He hadn't pushed me away immediately.That was progress. Real, tangible progress.My heart was still racing from the thrill of it. The feel of his lips on mine, the strength of his body beneath my hands, the way he'd tasted—I'd been trying for weeks to get his attention. Weeks of carefully orchestrated encounters, of finding excuses to be near him, of dressing just right and saying just the right things.And finally, finally, I'd gotten through his defenses.Sure, that girl had interrupted. Had walked in at the worst possible moment with those wide, shocked eyes and that devastated expression.But that almost made it better. Now she knew. Now she understood that Damon had options. That she wasn't special, wasn't irrep
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