The drive back from campus was quiet, too quiet. Damien's hand rested on my thigh the whole way. I kept my legs pressed together, trying to ignore the lingering ache between them, the faint wetness that hadn't quite dried. Every bump in the road made me clench, and I hated how my body reacted like it was already trained to him.
He didn't speak until we pulled into the garage. “You're quiet,” he said, turning off the ignition.
“I'm tired,” I lied. “You wore me out.
He chuckled low. “Good.”
I shot him a look. “Not funny.”
He unbuckled, leaned over, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Come on, shower then we talk.”
“Talk?” I raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you talk?”
“Since you started living here.” He got out, came around, opened my door and I took his hand.
We walked in together
