DAMIEN

Her breath hitched the moment my fingers grazed the curve of her hip through the fabric. I didn't rush, didn't speak. I only looked at her—fully, reverently—as if she were something sacred and breakable.

“Damien…” she whispered again, her voice trembling like her hands.

“Shh,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re safe. With me, you’re always safe.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, her gaze dropped, lashes lowering, breath shallow.

I lowered myself to my knees before her—slowly, deliberately—keeping my hands gently on her thighs. My eyes locked with hers, never straying, letting her see everything I felt but hadn’t said. The ache. The need...