Morning light streamed through the dining room windows, golden and too bright for Sierra’s pounding head. She sat at the long wooden table, staring into her untouched bowl of fruit while her mother moved around the kitchen, humming softly as though nothing in the world was amiss.
But everything was amiss. Sierra’s skin still burned from Damien’s hands last night, her lips still tingled from his kisses. Every breath she took felt like stolen air.
Across from her, Damien looked unshaken, as though he hadn’t crept into her room, pressed her against the wall, and silenced her with forbidden lips while her mother walked the halls. He was in his usual suit, crisp and commanding, sipping his coffee without a flicker of unease.
She hated him for that composure.
And she wanted him even more bec
