The apartment was dim, lit only by the flicker of the city lights that poured through the large windows. The air was heavy, saturated with sweat and the raw musk of s*x. But Damon hadn’t had enough of her. Not even close.
Eva followed him on shaky legs, her skin still humming with the sting of his belt, her lips swollen from where he’d used her throat. Damon didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. His presence was a tether that kept her moving, every step dragging her deeper into his world where choice didn’t exist.
He dropped himself into the leather armchair in her living room, legs spread wide, exuding power. His shirt was half-buttoned, his chest dusted with a sheen of sweat. One hand rested lazily on the armrest, but his stare was anything but lazy. It pinned her in place, dissecting
