His mouth was everywhere.
The moment the door shut behind us, Damon shoved me against the wall, his chest crushing into mine, his breath hot and ragged like he'd been holding it back all night. I barely had a chance to gasp before his lips devoured mine, hungry, desperate, like he needed this kiss to survive.
My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space between us. His tongue slid against mine, teasing, claiming, and I let him, I begged for it. Every kiss felt like fire, like we were burning alive but too addicted to stop.
Then his hands moved.
One cupped the side of my face, keeping me trapped in his kiss. The other slid down, brushing over my waist before boldly rising higher. My breath hitched when his palm covered my breast through the thin silk of my dress. He groaned into my mouth, the sound low and dangerous, as his thumb flicked over my hardened nipple.
I gasped against his lips, the sensation sharp and sweet, leaving me trembling. "Damon—"
"Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice thick with restraint. His lips left mine, trailing hot kisses down my neck, his tongue grazing the sensitive skin just below my ear. "You'll drive me insane."
He squeezed gently, then teased with a maddening patience that had my knees buckling. Every brush of his hand sent shivers spiraling through me, a storm I couldn't contain.
I should have stopped him.
I should have reminded him who I was, who my father was.
But instead, I arched into his touch, offering myself to the danger.
The warmth of his tongue traced lower, across my collarbone, down to the swell of my breast where the neckline dipped just enough for temptation. His teeth grazed the curve, pulling a sharp gasp from me. When his mouth closed over fabric, sucking, I nearly screamed at the wave of sensation.
"Damon," I whispered again, but this time it was a plea, not a warning.
He pulled back, his breathing wild, his forehead pressing against mine. His hand was still on my breast, his thumb lazily circling. His eyes burned into mine, a storm of desire and torment.
"You're playing with fire, Aria." His voice cracked with hunger. "And if I touch you any more, I won't be able to stop."
My chest heaved against his hand. "Then don't stop."
The words tumbled out before I could swallow them back. A confession. A surrender.
His jaw clenched, and for a moment I thought he'd pull away. But instead, he kissed me again—rougher, deeper, his teeth tugging at my lip. His hand squeezed harder, his touch more demanding now, as though something inside him had finally snapped.
I was drowning in him. In his heat, his strength, his absolute obsession. Every forbidden second made me ache for more, even as I knew how dangerous it was.
And then—
A sharp sound cut through the air. A knock. Firm. Loud. Right outside the door.
We froze. Our breaths mingling. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Damon's eyes locked on mine, wide, wild, and filled with a fury I didn't understand. He stepped back, dragging his hand away, leaving me aching, cold, desperate.
"Stay quiet," he hissed, his voice deadly calm now, a perfect mask snapping back into place.
Another knock. "Miss Kingsley?" A man's voice, clipped and professional. "Your father is looking for you."
My stomach plummeted. Father. He couldn't find us like this. If he even suspected…
I met Damon's gaze, panic swirling in my eyes. He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear.
"This isn't over," he whispered, his tone dark, promising. "Not even close."
And just like that, he yanked open the door, his face unreadable, his body once again the perfect soldier at my side.
But my lips were still swollen.
My dress was still wrinkled.
And my heart… my heart was still begging for the man who was forbidden to touch me.