10
Damien.
There’s a kind of peace that comes right after s*x. Not the romantic, pillow-talk kind. I’m talking about the deep, animalistic silence when your body’s wrecked, your mind’s blank, and your chest is still rising like you’ve just fought a war and barely made it out. That’s the kind of peace I had, wrapped around Lila in my bed, sweat drying on our skin, her leg hooked lazily over my hip. The sun hadn’t even fully risen. My blackout curtains made sure of that.
And then the door opened.
Not knocked. Not creaked. Opened. Like the universe had waited for the exact second my guard dropped to swing a wrecking ball through my chest.
Vivian.
She stood in the doorway like a ghost with a blowtorch. She wasn’t supposed to be back for another four days. Her suitcase was still in her h
