He buried his face in the crook of her neck, a guttural, primal roar escaping his throat as he spilled deep inside her, his body shuddering with a violent release.
For a few seconds, the only sound was their ragged, synchronized breathing. Then, the haze cleared.
The warmth was replaced by an icy, suffocating shame. Damien's eyes regained their cold, calculating edge. He didn't look at her. He didn't offer a hand. He simply stepped back, letting her legs drop. Without his support, Sofia's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, her skin flushed and her chest heaving.
He adjusted his clothes and looked down at her—not with the passion of a lover, but with the detached coldness of a man looking at a mess he had made. Without a word, he turned his back on her and walked toward the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.
