But this wasn’t just s*x.
And that was the most dangerous part.
This wasn’t just relief or distraction or pleasure.
This was need.
This was obsession.
This was something I couldn’t name anymore without tasting her on my tongue.
“She’s in your bed, isn’t she?” Camilla whispered now, her voice hollow. Empty. “She’s curled up in your sheets like she belongs there. You let her touch the life you promised me.”
“Stop it,” I growled, finally breaking.
“No,” she said, her voice turning sharp again. “You don’t get to shut me down. You don’t get to f**k a w***e and lie to my face like I don’t still know you. Who is she, Damon? What does she look like? Does she call you Daddy? Do you pull her hair and make her cry and pretend she’s not just a hole you’re using to forget me?”
That broke me.
