Page 56 of Sticks & Serpents

The realization both thrilled and terrified me. It was a risk—a dangerous game—but it felt so damn good to have her here like this again. I smirked at her, unable to hide my satisfaction.

“You’re thinking too much,” I teased, watching as her gaze flickered away from mine.

She exhaled shakily, the sound barely above a whisper. “Fuck. We shouldn’t have done this.”

I rolled onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow as I brushed my fingers down her arm, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my touch.

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice lazy and teasing, but I could see the truth lurking in her eyes—dark and knowing.

Holly swallowed hard, a small movement that spoke volumes. She knew this was the moment—the point of no return. She had walked right into it, and I could practically feel the tension radiating off her.

“What are we doing, Damien?” Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the confidence she tried to project.

I smirked, leaning closer until our faces were mere inches apart. “We’re having a little fun,” I said softly, watching as her expression shifted from uncertainty to something deeper—a spark of defiance mixed with desire.

“Fun?” she echoed incredulously, but there was a hint of intrigue dancing in her gaze. It stirred something primal within me.

“Yeah,” I replied, letting my fingers trail further down her arm until they grazed over her collarbone. “You think this is just a mistake? That you can forget what we had?”

Her breath hitched at my words. I could see the conflict playing out on her face—wanting to push me away while simultaneously craving everything I offered. The vulnerability was exhilarating; it made me want to take control even more.

“I’m not sure if I can go back to how things were,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip as if trying to hold back the truth bubbling beneath the surface.

I leaned in closer, letting my lips hover near hers. “Why would you want to? This is different.” My voice dropped to a low murmur, laden with promise. “This is us.”

Her eyes flickered between hesitation and longing, and I felt the urge to bridge that gap—to pull her closer into this chaotic whirlwind we had created together. But Holly wasn’t ready yet; she still fought against whatever demons held her back.

“Damien…” she whispered again, and just like that, every part of me came alive with possibility—the need to show her just how good this could be if she let go of all those fears.

I chuckled softly; it was a dark sound laced with something deeper than mere amusement. “Just admit it—you want this as much as I do.”

Chapter17

Holly

Iwoke up to the cold emptiness of the bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, still holding onto the warmth of a night I couldn’t believe had happened. My heart raced as I took in the room—the way the morning light poured through the curtains, illuminating every corner with an almost cruel clarity.

Damien’s scent lingered in the air, intoxicating and familiar, but he was gone. I pushed myself up on my elbows, scanning the room for any sign of him.

Nothing. Just silence, thick and suffocating.

Last night hit me all at once, a wave crashing over me that pulled me under before I could catch my breath. The anger bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, mixing with shame and confusion. How could I have let it happen? The way he’d touched me—his hands rough and possessive—flashed through my mind like a strobe light, reminding me of every moment that had led to that point.

I could still feel his fingers digging into my skin, how he’d held me as if I were both precious and disposable at once. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs as memories flooded back: his low voice whispering things meant to shatter my resolve, his lips claiming mine like he owned them. And part of me craved it—the dominance, the rawness—but another part recoiled in horror at what it meant.

Jealousy surged through me when I remembered how he’d been with that other girl earlier at the estate—his hand on her hip while she laughed up at him like she belonged there. Rage burned hotter than any fire as I replayed it all: how effortlessly he’d commanded attention without even trying.

I buried my face in the pillow, willing away the tears that threatened to spill over. I hated him for how easy it was for him to pull me back into this chaos—a chaos I had fought so hard to escape.

But most of all? I hated myself for letting him take me apart again.

I should have felt relieved he was gone, grateful for the silence that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Time to think, to process what had just happened. But the truth? It felt like he’d abandoned me, left me in this swirl of emotions and memories.

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the paint with my eyes. What the fuck did I do? My heart raced with every thought that flashed through my mind. The weight of it all pressed down on me—heavy and suffocating.

My body ached in ways I couldn’t explain, a mixture of pleasure and pain that reminded me of every moment we shared. This should feel like regret. It should feel like a mistake. But it didn’t.

It just felt like Damien.

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