Page 48 of Watch Me Burn
He climbs into the helicopter behind me, and we settle in for the ride. I lean back in my seat as Denver falls away beneath us, the city lights blurring through the falling snow. My body still hums from Damien’s touch, and my mind races with questions I’m afraid to ask.
As the helicopter turns toward the mountains, toward my sanctuary, I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the cabin’s heating. Tonight has set something in motion that I can’t stop, a collision course between my two worlds.
My mind drifts to what’s coming when I get home. Despite my best intentions, I’m caught between two powerful men.
One who’s made it clear he wants to possess me.
And one who already does.
Chapter thirteen
Luna
The helicopter ride back to my sanctuary is quiet. Damien sits across from me now, no longer pressed against my side as he was on the journey into the city. The distance between us feels deliberate, calculated, but his gaze rarely leaves me.
We land on his property, and he drives me the short distance to my house, dropping me at my door with the gentleman’s manners he wears like his expensive tux. But there was nothing gentlemanly about the way he had me against his window less than an hour ago, dress hiked up around my waist, his mouth between my thighs, coaxing sounds from me that I only make for my wolf.
The soft glow from behind the living room curtains suggests Maren is still awake.
I turn to look at him. “Thank you for tonight.”
His mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “My pleasure.”
“Damien—”
“Next time…” He steps closer, the faint scent of my arousal still clinging to him. “I’ll have you in my bed, Luna. And you won’t leave it until morning.”
It’s not a question. There’s no room for negotiation. It’s just pure, unwavering certainty delivered by a man who’s used to getting what he wants. The worst part is how my body once again betrays me, responding to his dominance with a fresh surge of want.
“Goodnight, Damien.” I force the words past the knot in my throat.
He leans closer, and my breath catches. For one moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, going to make me taste myself on his tongue again. Instead, he stops just shy of contact, his breath ghosting across my lips like a promise.
“Goodnight, Luna,” he whispers, then steps back and strides to his SUV.
I stay frozen on my porch until his taillights disappear into the swirling snow. Only then do my lungs remember how to work, releasing the breath I’ve been holding in a shaky exhale as I fumble for my keys.
The living room is lit only by the light of the TV. Maren is asleep on the couch with Ricky curled up on her chest, his fingers wrapped around her left breast. The sight makes me chuckle despite the turmoil inside me. I grab the throw blanket from the back of the armchair and drape it over both of them. Ricky stirs, his eyes opening to slits, but he just snuggles closer to Maren and drifts back to sleep.
I make my way into the dining room, pulling a bottle of Jameson out of the hutch before pouring myself a glass, needing some liquid courage for what I know is coming. I swallow it down in one gulp, coughing as it burns my throat.
I don’t know how long I stand there before I head upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The guilt comes in waves as I strip off my dress and step into the shower. The warm water beats down on my shoulders as I scrub every inch of my skin, as if I could wash away what happened. As if I could wash away Damien’s scent, his touch, the evidence of my betrayal.
Because that’s what it feels like more and more. Betrayal. Kissing Damien wasn’t a betrayal of my wolf. Not really. But letting Damien make me come with his tongue is.
Why didn’t I stop it?
But even as the regret washes over me, there’s something else. Excitement. Exhilaration. The image of Damien on his knees before me, his eyes burning with hunger as he looked up at me, makes my heart race all over again.
And beneath it all, confusion.
Because I’m falling for him. How is that even possible when I have such strong feelings for my wolf? How can I have such intense feelings for two different men?
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, wiping the steam from the mirror. My reflection stares back at me, flushed and bright-eyed despite the late hour. I look different. Changed.
With a sigh, I pull on a silk robe and run a brush through my hair before walking into my bedroom. The room is dark, but I don’t bother with the lights, my eyes already adjusting to the dim glow filtering through the curtains.
My skin erupts in goosebumps from my scalp to my toes, and the tiny hairs on my neck rise as fear ripples through me.
