I braced for the usual sharp retort. The infamous Damian Voss, who ran his life on strict schedules and kept his home so spotless he probably had a clinical diagnosis, could not possibly be okay with me spending an entire night in his apartment. But he didn't sneer. Didn't even sigh. He just looked at me, and his voice dropped to a register I would normally interpret as gentle.
"Don't apologize, Kate. You're not a burden to anyone."
I froze. This was so far outside my prediction of Damian's response that my brain short-circuited. Without thinking, I took a step forward and stopped at arm's length from him. And in that moment, the scent hit me again. Stronger. Richer. Fresher. Cedar and cold iron, flooding my senses.
Deep in my chest, something trembled. A tiny spike on an otherwise flat
