Isabelle’s POV
The air between us was thick—suffocating.
Damion stood so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body, his eyes locked onto mine like I was something he was about to devour. His breathing was rough, his fists clenched at his sides as if he was restraining himself from doing something reckless.
“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his voice low, controlled—but barely.
I wanted to. I needed to.
But the words wouldn’t come.
I hated him for what he did to me—for tearing my life apart, for betraying me in ways I still wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from.
And yet, my body remembered him in ways I wished it didn’t.
The way his touch had once been my solace. The way he could ignite something deep inside me with just a glance.
I hated him for that, too.
So I did the only t
