I knew it was wrong the second his lips crashed against mine, hungry, demanding, like I was the last breath he needed to stay alive. "Tell me to stop, Elena," Damian whispered, his mouth trailing fire down my throat. His hand gripped my hip like he could brand me as his. I should have pushed him away. I should have thought about my husband, about the lies and betrayal and the life I was supposed to protect. But instead, I moaned his name. “Damian…” His laugh was low, dangerous, the kind that made my body tremble. “That’s right. You don’t belong to him anymore. You belong to me. And I’ll spend every night proving it until you can’t breathe without me.” I hated that he was right. I hated that every ruthless touch made me forget the world outside his arms. But most of all, I hated how much I wanted him to never stop. Because Damian wasn’t just my weakness. He was my obsession. And God help me, I was his.