His fingers trailed across my waist, warm and deliberate, pausing just at the edge of my abdomen. My breath hitched.

He leaned closer, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear, and whispered, “Call me what you used to.”

My knees nearly buckled.

His hand slipped lower, firm against the curve of my ass. I gasped as his lips grazed my throat, teeth catching gently on skin.

I didn’t think. I just reacted.

I turned, pressed my body against his, and whispered, “Damian…”

But he didn’t kiss me.

He froze.

Then slowly, his hand moved not to hold me but to grip my jaw, just enough pressure to still my...