By the time the four men finally broke off, it was well past 2 a.m. The suite had quieted, the dark island sky pressing against the glass walls. Beyond, the horizon was an inky blur—the sea and stars swallowed by night.
But Damien’s mind hadn’t.
When he stepped back into his room, the first thing he noticed was the bed.
The sheets were still rumpled—creased and marked by her. His eyes locked on the space where she’d lain not long ago, and the image hit him like a punch to the gut.
And just like that—he was right back in it.
Maya, breathless beneath him. Skin flushed. Lips parted. Her eyes—those wide, wanting eyes—glassy with need and trust. Her voice trembling as she whispered she wanted him. Only him.
God, he could still feel her.
The way her body arched under his mouth… how her n*
