The weekend slipped past in fragments—Candace check-ins, Sebastian updates, and my miserable attempt at the mandatory one-hour relaxation Damien insisted I needed.
And the result of my failure?
I was tired.
Bone-tired.
Andgod,I wanted Damien. Just him. Just us.
But that wasn't in the cards today.
Because today was Sunday, the day that belonged to carbs and a woman named Rosie.
Damien leaned against the doorway in dark jeans and a Nothing More T-shirt—soft, worn, unfairly attractive. His favorite band. Now mine too.
"You look great."
"Thanks," I mumbled, swiping on a burgundy lipstick.
Damien had laid out a sweet little sweater dress—one I'd felt awkward in at first, until his gaze traced up and down my body so many times it burned confidence into my skin.
It paired perfectly with the collar resting in the hollow of my throat.
I barely noticed it anymore.
Forgot it was there.
Until his teeth caught on the chain when he kissed my neck…
Or the chain pressed into my skin when his hand tightened around my throat.
He appeared behind me in the mirror, hands sliding around my waist and squeezing the soft flesh there.
"You really are beautiful."
His voice was warm, velvet-soft, as he pressed slow kisses up the curve of my neck to my ear, tugging the lobe gently between his teeth.
"Stop," I scolded—weakly, hopelessly. "If you keep going, we'll be late."
"It's only my mom," he said, nipping again. "She'll understand."
I twisted in his arms, facing him.
"New rule. No bringing up your mom when you're trying to do—" I waved vaguely at him, at my neck. "Whatever that is."
His brows shot sky-high. "You seem to have forgotten how this works."
My heart skipped—but I challenged him anyway. Held his gaze.
His expression darkened, fire sparking in his eyes.
Before I could blink, he spun me around and bent me over.
A sharp smack cracked against my backside, the sound ricocheting off the bathroom tiles.
"Ow!" I yelped, rubbing my ass dramatically.
It hadn't been hard—not even close to the type of hit I'd begged for before.
