Damien
Lena kissed me first.
That should not have felt as dangerous as it did.
But it did.
Because Lena never did anything halfway.
Not her anger.
Not her loyalty.
And definitely not her affection.
The second her mouth met mine, every coherent thought I had left disappeared completely.
Rain battered the penthouse windows while thunder rolled across Ashbourne, but all I could focus on was her.
Her hands in my hair.
The warmth of her body against mine.
The way she looked at me like I was something worth wanting.
God.
That last part still destroyed me.
I pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her cheeks were flushed.
Her breathing uneven.
My shirt hanging from one shoulder.
Beautiful.
The word wasn’t strong enough.
Nothing was.
“You keep staring,” she murmured.
I slid
