But she didn’t stop. If anything, the thought of him hearing, of him knowing, made her even wetter. Her hips lifted subtly, her hand moving faster, and she bit her lip to silence the moans threatening to spill out.
On the other end, Damien’s grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles whitened. He could hear it, the faint shift of fabric, the shallow, shaky breaths. His mind painted the image so vividly it was unbearable.
“Vulnerability,” he repeated, his voice husky, strained. “Yes… that’s exactly it.”
They lingered on the line longer than they should have, neither willing to hang up, both caught in a silent, dangerous game. Finally, Damien forced himself to end the call. His voice was clipped. “We’ll… talk tomorrow.”
He hung up before she could respond.
But the moment the line we
