Damon
The hallway was too f*****g quiet.
I slipped out of Wren’s room like a thief, closing the door with a silence that felt like a betrayal. Liam’s sleepy voice still echoed from the kitchen, “I want water again”, the universe’s cruel joke. My son, the world’s most effective cockblock.
The reason for sneaking out? How do you explain to a four-year-old what you are doing in his nanny's room?
I made it to my bedroom before slamming a fist against the wall. The pain was sharp, clean, a distraction from the firestorm in my blood.
Her skin. Her mouth. The way she’d arched against me.
I could still feel the heat of her under my hands, the soft gasp she’d made when my thumb brushed the curve of her breast. If Liam hadn’t knocked…
Christ.
I could have had her right there. On her bed.
