My reflection stared back at me..hair mussed, chest scratched, eyes wild. I looked like a man who’d just ruined something sacred and liked it. No shirt. No guilt. Just raw, feral satisfaction.
“You’re a grown-ass man, Damon,” I muttered to myself, half-laughing. “Sniffing panties. Talking to lace like it’s alive. What the f**k is wrong with you?”
“You run an empire. You’ve buried men in rivers, paid off governments, built your fortune with blood and backbone…”
I raised them back to my nose, breathed deep.
“And now look at you. Losing your f*****g mind over a girl’s underwear.”
My laugh was low.
Bitter.
But not ashamed.
“I should be locked up,” I murmured, shaking my head slowly. “I should be f*****g institutionalized. Because this? This ain’t normal. This ain’t healthy. This ain’t
