“You knowexactlywhat we are.” Contempt grips his features. “And if you think thatQuintoncan replace me…” He stalks toward me. “Make you feel the way I do…”
We’re back where we started. His hand snakes around the base of my throat, the pressure just the way I like it.
He dips his head, lips growling against my ear. “You’re only fooling yourself, Miss Jones.”
I gasp, catching my breath as my insides twist and turn. “He’s not a replacement.”
“No?” His expert grip tightens, my airways at his mercy. “Did you fuck him, Miss Jones?” His teeth nip at my earlobe, and I whimper from the sensation. His gravely, villainous tone pricks me. “Did he stroke your hair while he was inside you? Did he call you beautiful? Gorgeous? Did he whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Did he touch you like you were a fragile little flower?” I swallow as he spills a devious laugh. “We both know you’re notfragile, Miss Jones.” He pulls away from me, his livid black eyes unwavering. “Did you fuck him?”
He doesn’t think I’m fragile, but what if I am? What if I’m weaker than he thinks?
Quin… He’s soft. He’s gentle. His touch is honest and vulnerable and stable—a safe harbor, a haven for my wickedness.
There is nothing stable about Damon. He’s a storm.
But so am I.
“Yes.”
And then, just like that, I’m in the eye of the storm.
Helpless.
Lurching forward, Damon’s lips devour mine, a kiss so raw and pained and historic that it would be studied for centuries to come. Our mouths collide like a shipwreck in the night, under the stars, so beautiful yet so fucking deadly. I give in to the beauty, the familiar ache of parallel pasts, but then he pulls away, his breath rapid and hot against my ear.
“You broke my fucking heart, Emery,” he rasps. “And now I’m going to break yours.” Breathlessly, I stare at him as he pulls away and takes a couple of steps back. His jaw clenches. “I hope you’re ready for the next seven days, Miss Jones. I’m going to show you exactly what you’ll be missing.”
I stare at him in complete confusion. What is he doing? What does that even mean?
“I don’t?—”
He cocks his head, and I can’t decipher the cunning smirk he’s sporting. “Aren’t you curious how I found you?” He releases a clipped laugh. “I’ll see you back at the resort, Miss Jones. Tell Sophie I say thanks for the invite.”
My mouth gapes open with disbelief as he turns around and disappears down the hall toward the party. I damn near jog after him, needing an explanation, needing more details.
But it’s too late.
His plan is already in motion.
As the musky, hot air hits me, I find him across the room, staring down at a gorgeous brunette. He says something. One word. That’s all it takes and she’s on her knees, my own shaking. But with what? Fear? Jealousy?
He grabs the base of her slicked-back ponytail and surges inside her mouth, his treacherous gaze finding mine, and then he smiles. A fluttering rage burns inside me, my hands hot and sweating at the vulgar sight of his revenge. But then a voice floats into my ear, and I’m immediately extinguished.
“Emery.” I crane my neck to find Quin hovering beside me, his features tense. “Is everything all right?”
“No. It’s not.” Swallowing, I turn away from Damon and look up at Quinton. “He’s staying at the resort. Apparently, your sister invited him.”
Quin’s lip twitches at the information. “Is that so?” He shakes his head, disappointed. “I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t think she?—”
I hold up a surrendering hand. “It’s fine. I just…” I look down at my body, and even though I’ve been naked all evening, at this moment, I’ve never felt more exposed. “I think I want to leave. Can we leave?”
Quinton tilts his head, recognizing the defeat swimming in my features. He cups my cheek, stroking my hairline as he whispers, “We can do whatever you want, darling.”
Quin’s touch acts like a momentary magnet, keeping my eyes forward, refusing to let me look back. But it doesn’t last long. As we leave, I can’t help but look back into the past. And the past smirks at me, cunning and devious.
He doesn’t say it.
But I can hear it.
