Maya’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Her fingers clutched the sheets tighter, white-knuckled.
“Mr. Blackwood… I… I don’t….”
Damien’s jaw flexed. “Understand? You will..”
He stepped even closer now, stopping at the edge of her bed. His voice turned to a murmur. A warning.
“But if you think I can let you walk away now… after this? You’re wrong.”
He bent down slightly, not touching her, just close enough for his scent to reach her—clean skin, expensive cologne, something darker beneath.
“I should stay away. I should keep you safe from everything I am. But I can’t. Not anymore.”
He’s too close.
Too composed. Too in control. And yet every inch of her skin prickled with awareness. She could feel him without being touched.. his breath, his scent, the heat of him pouring into her like liqui
