TRINITY.
I wake up to morning light and an empty bed.
Then I hear movement from somewhere in the apartment.
I sit up, wincing at the pleasant soreness between my legs. We f****d three more times last night, each one more intense than the last, and I can still feel him.
There's a silk robe laid out at the foot of the bed. I put it on and follow the sound of movement to the kitchen.
Damien's there, wearing just pajama pants, making coffee. He looks up when I enter and smiles.
"Morning."
"Hi."
He pours me a cup and I take it gratefully, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.
"We need to talk," he says.
My stomach clenches. "Okay."
"Come sit."
We sit at his dining table, which probably costs more than my car, and he studies me for a moment.
"I have a proposition for you."
"I'm li
