. . . SLOANE The room was warm, the air thick with steam from my recent shower, but the heat that filled the space now had nothing to do with the humidity clinging to the air. It was something else entirely—something raw, something electric. He kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant. It was fire. A desperate, consuming fire that crashed over me, swallowing me whole. His lips crushed against mine, demanding, possessive, like he had been starving for this. For me. I gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed by the heat of his kiss. My hands moved instinctively, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more. Damon growled low in his throat, his hands sliding over my bare skin, his fingers tracing every curve, every dip, every inch of me like he ha

