I never meant to want him.
Damon was the type of man who made women forget where they were. Sharp jaw, deeper voice, eyes like polished steel. He moved like he owned every room he walked into, and unfortunately, one of those rooms was now my house.
He arrived on a rainy Thursday with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a smirk on his lips, like he already knew he was going to wreck me.
“Hey, Elena,” he said, leaning in for a hug.
It wasn’t just a hug. It was a press, a slide. His hand lingered a second too long on the small of my back. I felt the warmth of his breath at my ear. And just like that, I was wet between my thighs.
Damon was my husband’s older brother. Recently divorced. Temporarily homeless. And, apparently, dangerously irresistible.
Jake—my husband—was thrilled to h
