Ophelia’s POV:
He was kissing me.
The world stopped. My lungs seized, the oxygen in the small, curtained cubicle suddenly replaced by the intoxicating scent of him—cedar and caramel.
He. Was. Kissing. Me.
The friction of his lips against mine was a violent reminder of everything I had lost. But before my heart could decide whether to shatter or soar, reality crashed back in. A sharp, muffled curse hissed from the other side of the fabric, followed by the aggressive rustle of the curtains being jerked shut.
"Get a f*****g room!" a man shouted, his voice gravelly and impatient.
The heavy thud of boots echoed down the hallway, retreating into the distance. The sound acted like a bucket of ice water. Like we had both been suffocating, Damon suddenly pushed off me. On pure instinct, I sho
