CINDY’S POV
His fingers toyed with the edge of my dress, dragging the soaked fabric higher in lazy increments as if time itself bent for him.
My breath felt too loud in my own ears.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I said, my voice thinner than I liked.
“Correction,” Damian murmured, his eyes fixed on mine.
“I’m winning a dangerous game.”
The hem reached the very top of my thighs. Beneath, my panties—thin lace in a shade I now regretted— clung like they’d been painted on.
The heat in his gaze told me he saw every detail.
My pulse slammed against my throat.
“Stop.”
He tilted his head like a wolf amused by its prey.
“You’re saying ‘stop,’ but you’re not moving away. You’re still here, dripping, flushed, breathing like you’re dying to be fuckked.”
“You’re…”
“Right?” H
