There was a charged air between them, something dangerous, something that between them both was understood, but neither was willing to take the time for.
But Isla could still feel his touch and the faded burn of his fingers on her skin. The imprint of his lips.
Her heart thundered.
She should step away.
He should let her go.
Instead, Damien raised a hand and dragged his thumb along the side of her face, his touch was rough but slow, as though he meant to memorize her.
“You shouldn’t have let me do that,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
Isla swallowed. “You should not have kissed me back.”
Something unreadable flickered in his gaze.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, restraint razor-thin.
“Isla….”
A sharp knock on the door.
She jolted.
Damien forcibly exhaled, taking a step back
