Damian did not return to the library.
He left it behind with deliberate steps, each one measured, controlled, as though distance alone could restore the composure that had slipped through his fingers the moment his hand had touched Ava's waist.
It did not.
The sensation lingered far longer than it should have. The warmth. The softness. The way she had gone still beneath his touch, startled but not afraid. That was the part that unsettled him the most.
She hadn't pulled away.
Damian moved through the corridor with his jaw clenched, his thoughts uncharacteristically disordered. He prided himself on control, on foresight, on discipline like he had been trained to.
Desire had never been something that dictated his actions. It was something he acknowledged, managed, buried when necessary.
This was different.
