“I should go back. Jenn’s probably worried.”
“That would be wise.”
My body would not move. I stood rooted, caught between two pulls. Everything screamedgo.Something else wanted me to stay. Wanted me at any cost.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“If I told you I recognized you instantly—couldn’t look away from the moment I walked in—would you believe me, Miss Elfhorn?”
I should have laughed. Maybe I should have screamed. Instead, I stood, chest heaving. His words stuck to my skin. My heart hammered, testing if I could run. I could not. The distance between us was a lie—this man was already under my skin. I didn’t know why I let him in.
Slowly—too slowly—he stepped closer, like a shadow swallowing light. I should have moved away, made space, broken the tension. There was nowhere left to retreat. My back hit the door. He kept advancing, step by step, not walking but claiming.
My pulse thundered, slamming against my ribs. My body screamed escape, yet a deeper current pulled me to him. Every cell rang with alarm and desire at once. Beneath that sat a smaller, dangerous wish—that he would touch me.
Then he was there. So close I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I didn’t dare blink. Damian lifted his hand, brushed two fingers along my temple, caught a strand of hair, and tucked it slowly behind my ear—as though he were taking possession of my face. Too tender for the darkness in him. Too precise, too controlled for the hunger in his eyes.
The touch burned like a promise that could never be undone. His hand braced beside my head, a silent command.
“I saw you disappear upstairs with Santares.” His voice dropped, low and dark—ready to drag me under. “And I didn’t hesitate to follow.” He leaned in; his mouth hovered by my ear. His words didn’t whisper. They bit. “Would you believe me?”
My heartbeat dove. I wanted to say something, to carve space with words—anything—but my voice jammed. I was a trembling contradiction of lust, terror, and the wild heat pooling between my thighs.
The air between us thickened, sticky and slow. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to run—but also to have him press me against the door and silence the questions with his touch.
“No,” I whispered at last.
“Then let’s say it was intuition,” he said.
I turned toward the door. His hand stayed firm and unyielding—a wall of flesh and force. My fingers curled on the handle, but I didn’t press it.
“Miss Elfhorn,” he murmured. The sound of my name on his lips froze the blood in my veins. “When you’re this close to me…” He paused long enough for the air between us to hum. “…I wonder how you sound gasping for breath. Beneath me. Begging me to let you come.” His words were a knife, slicing through my defenses.
I cracked the door. Fresh air slammed in like a scream. Before I could slip through, his hand closed over mine on the handle. The door thudded shut.
I froze.
“Not yet” he said—soft, and nowhere near gentle.
“Mr. Miller—I—”
“Shhh.” His breath seeped into me like a touch. “You can’t just walk away. Not now. Not anymore.” His hand left mine only to trail up my arm, each move unraveling my control. “It’s not that simple, Daisy.”
My name fell like a curse. Or a vow. His fingers slid over my hips, then lower, testing the edge of my dress, tugging as though figuring how fast he could strip me. He pulled me into him, hand slipping under fabric—slow, obsessed, memorizing skin. As if to tell me:You belong to me—even if you don’t know it yet.
A low, guttural sound escaped him. My body betrayed me, answering with an ache I couldn’t deny.
Just when I thought I would shatter, he withdrew. Slowly. Deliberately. Torturously.
“Look at me.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t dare.
“Daisy.” His tone snapped, commanding. My body obeyed before my mind could. Slowly, I raised my eyes to his.
His gaze hit like a storm—no softness, only hunger, control, a madness he no longer fought. His hand gripped the back of my neck, firm and unrelenting. His eyes devoured me. “You’re driving me insane.”
Before I could form a sound, he closed the gap. His lips crashed over mine with a force that stole the floor from under me. He tasted like forbidden fruit—dark, deep, impossible to forget.
