RHEA
I’m beyond stunned when Damien kisses me.
One second I’m laughing—actually laughing—at something stupid he said, head turned away from him while I’m curled in his arms on the couch. The next, his hand slides up my throat, fingers firm under my jaw, tilting my head back to him.
His eyes lock on mine—dark, feral, no trace of humor left.
Then his mouth crashes down on mine.
No soft start. No gentle press.
He kisses me like he’s starving—like he’s been holding back for weeks and just snapped.
His tongue pushes past my lips instantly, deep and demanding, claiming every inch of my mouth. I moan into him, the sound swallowed as he angles my head exactly how he wants it, controlling the kiss completely.
He tastes like sin—whiskey and heat and pure possession.
One hand fists in my hai
