The house was too quiet without Damian’s parents in it. Too big, too warm, too dangerous.
I didn’t know if it was the absence of watchful eyes or the way his scent seemed to fill every corner, but the air between us had been… different these past few days.
Damian was everywhere.
He was in the kitchen when I went to get water, standing behind me and reaching for a glass—except instead of letting go, his arms stayed around my waist, lips brushing my ear as if he couldn’t stop himself. He was in the hallway, leaning against the wall, eyes dark as though he’d been waiting just for me. He was on the staircase, pulling me back down when I tried to go upstairs, kissing me until I forgot where I’d been heading in the first place.
It wasn’t just the physical pull—it was that deep, tethered heat
