THE PROFESSOR'S DIRTY CLAIM
“But I am him, in a way. Better. Stronger. And I will make you see.”
She stiffened. “Stop. This isn’t Damian.”
“Oh, but I am,” he said softly, leaning in so that his lips almost touched hers. “I’ve inherited his memories, his desires. And I know what you want. What you need.”
His hand slid down her side, fingertips grazing her waist, pulling her closer. Her pulse quickened, heart pounding a wild rhythm of fear and curiosity. The clone’s lips descended onto hers, firm, insistent, mimicking Damian’s familiar touch but with an underlying hunger that felt almost predatory.