Contracted sin
And yet, despite the guilt clawing at her chest, a dark, shameful part of her loved every second of it.
Damien sat up beside her, his breathing just as ragged. His black shirt hung open, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the fresh scratch marks she had left across his shoulders and back during their intense encounter. His dark hair was messy, his lips swollen, and his eyes held a chaotic mix of lust, anger, regret, and something much deeper that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
For several long minutes, silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with everything they refused to say.
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