The kiss was brief—barely more than a press of lips—but it shattered something between us.
I pulled back, suddenly aware of what I'd just done. I'd kissed Damien Blackwood. In his foyer. With broken crystal and bloodstains still on the floor. With Edgar and two guards pretending very hard not to notice.
"I—" I started, my face burning.
Damien's hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my lower lip with a possessiveness that made my breath catch. His golden eyes were molten, burning with something that looked like hunger and wonder and barely restrained control.
"Don't," he said softly. "Don't apologize. Don't take it back. Don't—"
"I wasn't going to," I interrupted, surprising myself. "I was going to say… I should have done that sooner."
A slow, devastating smile spread across his face. "Yes. You should have."
Then he kissed me back.
