Damon did not immediately release my hand, and that was the first thing that set my heart off-beat.
For a man who treated every human interaction like an aggressive corporate hostile takeover, he held my palm against his bare chest with a strange, heavy patience. His fingers remained wrapped around my wrist—warm, steady, and immovable—yet his eyes had already locked back into that formidable, unreadable calm I had witnessed in a hundred boardrooms.
That was precisely the problem.
I tilted my head, looking up at him through my glasses. "You're doing it again."
His dark eyes shifted downward, locking onto mine. "Doing what?"
"Looking at me like you're analyzing a pitch deck for an offshore acquisition."
Damon's expression didn't flinch. "I am listening."
"Listening isn't the same as f
