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I gasp against his mouth, tasting the whiskey on his breath instantly—rich, smoky, heady. His tongue sweeps past my lips, and I melt so fast it’s embarrassing. My hands fist his shirt, and I’m already wet between my legs and ready to forget every angry thought I had two seconds ago.
Damien groans into the kiss, deep and low, his grip tightening like he’s trying to hold back but failing.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “Come inside.”
His forehead presses against mine, his breathing ragged. “No.”
I blink up at him, lips tingling. “Why?”
His jaw flexes. “I need to keep my head straight…for your sake.”
And then, just like that—he pulls away.
I’m left standing there, breathing hard, tasting whiskey, and wondering what the hell just happened as he disappears down the hall like he wasn’t two seconds from ruining me.
What the hell is this man doing to me?
21
DAMIEN
The morning sunis barely creeping through the tall windows when I step into the dining room, finding my mother already seated.
She looks up, smiling warmly. “There he is. I half thought you’d sneak out before breakfast.”
I grunt, sinking into the chair across from her. “Not this time.”
Truth is, I barely slept. Not with Sasha in the same house. And definitely not after tasting her lips, whiskey still burning on my tongue, only to walk away like an idiot.
My mother sets her cup down delicately. “It’s good to have you here, Damien. Really.” There’s something softer in her voice, something that pulls at a part of me I don’t let many people touch.
I nod once, clearing my throat. “Yeah…it’s been a while.”
She studies me over the rim of her teacup, that knowing glint in her eyes she’s always had. “I have to admit, though,” she starts, tilting her head, “I never imagined you going for someone like her.”
I freeze. My jaw clenches. “Yeah, Mom. I get it. She’s young.”
She chuckles, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “That’s not what I meant, sweetheart.” Her eyes twinkle, like she’s enjoying watching me squirm. “I meant she’s…bright. There’s something about her. Doesn’t look at you like the world does. That’s rare for a man like you.”
Before I can respond—before I can even process that—there’s a faint sound behind me.
A soft throat clearing.
Shit.
I turn just as Sasha steps in, her eyes wide but polite, face unreadable. She gives my mother a small smile. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Fuck. How much did she hear?
My mother, ever the graceful one, smiles warmly. “Nonsense, dear. Come. Sit.”
Sasha moves toward the table, glancing at the absurd spread—eggs, bacon, pastries, fruit, things no one has time to cook on a regular morning. Her eyes go wide.
“Woah,” she mutters, blinking at the sheer volume of it. “That’s…a lot of food.”
“Feel free to have whatever you like,” I say.
“Damien!” my mother reprimands me before turning to Sasha, laughing. “Sit down, dear. We don’t do things halfway around here, and I’m definitely not letting you out of here till we’ve fed you.”