Page 16 of Secrets Of Blackwood

“Until next time, my sweet Lily,” Damien whispers, pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that’s meant to linger, meant to sustain. Our lips part slowly, reluctantly, the taste of him still dancing on my tongue.

“Until next time,” I echo, feeling his presence retreat from around me as we disentangle ourselves from the sanctuary of each other’s embrace.

We stand, adjusting our attire, erasing the evidence of our shared passion. A final glance, a silent vow exchanged without words, and then we’re moving towards the door, each step heavy with the unspoken desire to remain locked away together.

In the hallway, we pause, our hands finding each other one last time before we part ways. The touch is electric, a single point of connection that holds all the intensity of the night within it. Then, with the faintest squeeze, we release.

As I walk away, the memory of Damien’s touch lingers, a phantom caress that promises more, even as the distance between us grows. His presence is imprinted upon my soul, a brand that marks me as irrevocably his, if only in the shadows of our secrets.

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The chill of the corridor seeps through my skin as I step away from the warmth of Damien’s study, but it’s nothing compared to the icy void that expands in my chest. In the hollow silence of night, every soft click of my heels against the marble floor echoes like a countdown, pulling me further from his embrace.

“Stay safe, Lily,” Damien’s voice is a low rumble behind me, thick with unsaid longing.

I glance back, drinking in the sight of him standing there—tall, dark, and devastating. “Always,” I promise, knowing that danger lurks in our every shared breath, in the very air we’ve just defiled with our forbidden caresses.

Stepping into the cool embrace of the night, the garden’s fragrance wraps around me—a stark contrast to the scent of sweat and desire we left behind. My body aches with the memory of his touch; each step is an act of will, forcing myself away from the only source of heat that truly warms me.

Damien

Watching her go is a silent torment, each moment stretched tight as piano wire. The taste of her name lingers on my tongue, a sacred mantra. ‘Lily.’ The shadows whisper it back, mocking me with their fleeting solace.

I close the door to my study, the soft click a dull thud in my chest. Alone now, surrounded by books and the ghosts of my thoughts, I can’t shake the image of her beneath me, the way her blue eyes darkened with pleasure, how her innocence unfurled like a flower in my hands.

My fingers brush over my lips, tracing where hers have just been, and I’m tormented by the need to pull her back, to lose myself in her once more. Instead, I pour myself a drink, the amber liquid doing nothing to quench the thirst she’s ignited within me.

Her fantasies are now etched in my mind, daring visions that I’ll bring to life in due time. The wait is a cruel beast, gnawing at the edges of my restraint. But when darkness falls again, and the world retreats, I’ll claim her once more.

For now, I stare into the flickering flames of the fireplace, allowing the dance of the fire to hypnotize me, to hold me over until our next encounter. The heat is a poor substitute for her touch, but it’s all I have. All I dare to keep.

As the chapter closes, the echo of unfulfilled yearning hangs between us, a bridge across the distance. Our shared anticipation of stolen moments builds, a crescendo that neither time nor space can contain. And though I stand here alone, the blaze of what lies between Lily and me refuses to be dimmed, a single, defiant flame in the encroaching dark.

6

Chapter Six

The door to my dorm room slams open with such force it’s a wonder the hinges don’t buckle. My heart leaps into my throat as Melissa marches in, her fiery red hair a wild, untamed halo around her head, each curl seeming to crackle with the electricity of her mood.

“Melissa? What—” The words catch in my mouth, unfinished, because the look on her face tells me everything I need to know. This is not a social call.

“Cut the crap, Lily,” Melissa snaps, her green eyes blazing with an intensity that pins me against the wall without her laying a finger on me. “I want the truth, and I want it now. What’s going on between you and Damien?”

My breath hitches, and the air in the room feels thick, charged with her anger and laced with the scent of her citrus perfume—a sharp contrast to the musky cologne that lingers on my skin, a remnant of stolen moments with Damien.

“Damien?” I try to feign confusion, but my voice trembles, betraying me. “We’re just friends, Melissa.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Her voice rises, a crescendo of fury and fear that echoes off the walls. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him? The way he looks at you?”

I swallow hard, the weight of her gaze holding me captive. I can’t tell her about the nights Damien and I have spent entwined in each other’s arms, the heat of his body branding itself onto mine, the intensity of our connection something far beyond what words could ever capture.

“Melissa, it’s not like that,” I say, but even to my own ears, the protest sounds weak, hollow.

“Damn it, Lily! You’re playing with fire.” She steps forward, her concern slicing through her anger like a knife. “Damien Blackwood isn’t someone you want to get tangled up with. You know his reputation.”

I do. We all do. But the Damien I’ve come to know isn’t the monster whispered about in hushed tones across campus. He’s tender, complex, with wounds as deep and raw as my own. And yet, I can see the truth in Melissa’s eyes—the genuine worry, the love of a friend trying desperately to protect me from the potential ruin of my own desires.

“Please, just trust me,” I plead, reaching out to her, needing her to understand that this isn’t just some fling, some reckless dalliance. It’s real.

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