Damon
I didn’t sleep.
I tried. God, I tried.
But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Wren standing in the kitchen, flushed and breathless, with her back pressed to the counter and her mouth inches from mine.
I could still feel the heat of her skin.
Still hear the sound of her breath hitching when I touched her waist.
Still feel the ache of stopping right when everything in me screamed to take.
And now?
Now it’s morning, and I’m standing in the kitchen pretending like I’m calm, like I didn’t spend half the night imagining what might’ve happened if Cam hadn’t called.
Or worse what would’ve happened if I had kissed her.
If I had crossed that line.
Wren walks in wearing one of those oversized sweatshirts she always seems to live in, her wild curls tied up in some half-
