The second he stepped into the laundry room and shut the door behind him, I knew I wasn’t walking out the same girl.

Damon’s eyes dropped to my tank top - no bra. My nipples were already stiff, and I didn’t bother hiding it. His gaze lingered, dropped lower. He took in the cotton shorts clinging to my thighs, the damp spot I hadn’t even tried to hide.

He held my panties like a weapon, red lace curled in his calloused fingers.

"Lose something?"

I reached for them. He didn’t let go.

“These yours?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

His hand didn’t move. His eyes didn’t blink. That jaw clenched, and something...