Control
857 Words
I barely made it back to the kitchen before he made it out of the shower.
My pulse was still racing as I grabbed the whiskey glass again, leaning hard against the counter while trying to steady my breathing.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Sneaking into his room.
Watching him.
Wanting more.
The sound of footsteps hit the hallway behind me.
Slow.
Measured.
I turned—
And completely forgot how to breathe.
Damon stood there wearing only a towel low around his waist, dark hair damp, water still tracing down the sharp lines of his chest and stomach.
God.
He looked unreal.
But it wasn’t his body that froze me in place.
It was his face.
Because this time there was nothing restrained in his expression anymore.
He knew.
Every bit of heat rushed straight between my legs.
His gaze dropped to the whiskey in my hand before lifting slowly back to my face.
“You enjoy watching?”
The question came low and calm.
Which somehow made it infinitely worse.
“I wasn’t—”
“A lie is a bad idea right now.”
My mouth shut immediately.
Damon walked toward me slowly, barefoot against the marble floor, eyes locked on mine the entire time.
Predatory.
That was the only word for it.
He stopped directly in front of me before taking the whiskey glass from my hand and setting it aside.
Then his fingers wrapped around my jaw gently.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to hold my attention exactly where he wanted it.
“You walked into my room,” he said quietly.
My pulse thundered beneath his touch.
“You watched me shower.”
Heat flooded my face.
“And then,” he continued softly, “you ran.”
Something dangerous flickered through his expression when I couldn’t answer.
“You know what the problem is, Alina?”
His thumb brushed slowly across my bottom lip.
“You have no idea what you’re tempting.”
The words hit low.
Hard.
I should’ve stepped back.
Instead, I leaned closer.
Bad decision.
His breathing changed instantly.
That tiny reaction gave me just enough confidence to destroy myself with it.
“I think I do,” I whispered.
The silence snapped tight between us.
His eyes darkened immediately.
“Careful.”
Warning.
Again.
But this time I was tired of warnings.
Tired of restraint.
Tired of pretending I didn’t spend every second thinking about him.
My fingers curled lightly around the front of his towel, barely touching him.
His entire body tensed.
“Alina.”
Rougher now.
I looked up at him slowly.
Then kissed him.
For one terrifying second—
Nothing happened.
Then Damon broke.
Completely.
His hand slid into my hair hard enough to pull a gasp from me as he kissed me back with sudden brutal intensity.
Not gentle.
Not careful.
Like he’d spent months holding himself back and finally snapped.
My back hit the counter sharply and his body pressed against mine immediately after, large hand gripping my waist hard enough to make my head spin.
The kiss turned deeper fast.
Hungry.
Possessive.
Every bit of control he carried shattered inside it.
My hands moved over his chest desperately, feeling hard muscle tense beneath damp skin while his mouth devoured mine like he was angry about wanting me this much.
God.
I couldn’t think.
His hand slid down my thigh suddenly and then—
He lifted me onto the counter effortlessly.
A shocked sound left me as he stepped between my legs immediately, forcing them apart with his body.
The towel hung lower now.
Dangerously low.
My pulse nearly stopped.
Damon’s forehead pressed briefly against mine as he tried to breathe.
Tried and failed.
“You should’ve stayed out of my room,” he said roughly against my mouth.
Then kissed me again before I could answer.
Harder this time.
One hand tangled in my hair while the other gripped my thigh tightly enough to leave marks tomorrow.
The thought alone made heat flood through me.
I felt him against me now.
Hot.
Hard.
And very real.
My entire body reacted instantly.
A low curse left him when he realized that.
“Jesus Christ.”
His mouth dragged along my jaw, down my throat, teeth grazing lightly against sensitive skin before his lips soothed over it.
Every touch felt dangerous.
Like falling deeper into something we wouldn’t come back from.
My fingers dug into his shoulders as his hand slid slowly higher beneath my oversized shirt.
Then stopped.
Because reality hit him again.
I felt it happen.
The hesitation.
The sudden return of thought.
Damon pulled back abruptly, breathing hard.
His eyes searched my face like he was trying to remember why this was wrong.
And maybe hating that he couldn’t stop.
My lips were swollen.
My body still pressed beneath his.
His hand still gripping my thigh.
“Tell me to stop,” he said roughly.
The words shocked me.
Because he sounded like he needed me to.
Like stopping on his own was no longer possible.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want him to stop at all.
- Writer
