“f**k therapy,” Damon said darkly, and then he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck, right where my pulse was hammering like it was trying to warn me he was about to do something reckless.
His lips dragged slowly up my skin, hot and possessive and perfect, and then he murmured, “You need something better than talking, kitten. You need a run.”
I froze.
Like actually froze, because what the hell did he just say?
“A run?” I repeated, pulling back to look at him like he’d just suggested we go join a yoga class in the middle of a war zone. “As in… outside? With legs?”
He smirked. That smug, dangerous, Alpha smirk that made me want to slap him and suck him at the same time.
“Yes. A run,” he said calmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Through the woods. Fa
