"He touched you."
Three words. They sliced through my stuttered tirade like a blade, severing my train of thought completely.
I blinked. "He didn't."
"Don't tell me he didn't touch you, because I can still smell him on you. I know my brother's scent better than you ever will." Damian stepped closer.
His words hit me like something physical, dragging me back to dinner. The way I'd leaned into Damon's charm. The thrill of flirting with a man who wasn't my husband. I couldn't deny it. I was married, and tonight I'd felt something I had no right to feel.
But I'd also seen through Damon's strategy. The charm, the questions, the calculated warmth. That realization had killed the thrill dead. And hearing Damian lay it out like this didn't shame me.
It pissed me off.
"So what if he touched
