Damien's finger moved inside her, but the heat he expected to find began to vanish. Usually, her body betrayed her with moisture, but now, she was turning cold. Her arching back went limp, and her eyes, once filled with a mix of fear and fire, became dull. She was no longer fighting him; she was simply waiting for him to finish.
The sudden dryness of her body was like a slap to his face. It told him louder than words that she was no longer there with him; her spirit had checked out. Damien pulled his finger out abruptly. He didn't say a word. He couldn't even look at her as he turned on his heel and walked out of the small room.
When he reached his own suite, he slammed the door and paced like a caged animal. He was angry—furious—but he didn't know why. Was he mad that she didn't want him, or was he mad that he couldn't stop thinking about her? He looked at his hand, still feeling the ghost of her skin, and cursed under his breath.
