When Damon pulled away from me in that car, leaving me trembling and unsatisfied, I thought I'd hate him.
I thought I'd bury the memory, smother the heat, pretend none of it had happened.
But I didn't.
I replayed every second of it.
The roughness of his hands, the hunger in his kiss, the way his tongue had circled my nipple until I nearly screamed.
And most of all, his warning.
If you tempt me again, Aria, I won't stop next time.
Those words burned hotter than his touch.
Because I didn't want him to stop.
So the next morning, I decided to test him.
⸻
Breakfast at the Kingsley mansion was never a quiet affair. Staff moved like clockwork, silver trays clinking, fresh juice pouring. My father sat at the head of the long mahogany table, scrolling through stock reports with the intensity of a man who thought the world spun only because he told it to.
I was supposed to sit beside him. Silent. Perfect. Decorative.
Instead, my eyes went straight to Damon.
He stood against the wall, dressed in black, broad arms crossed over his chest. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed the memory of last night. The way they flicked to me, then away again, sharp and fast, as though one more second would undo him.
So I gave him something to look at.
Instead of my usual conservative breakfast dress, I wore silk. Thin straps. Low neckline. No bra. Every step I took to my chair was a deliberate sway, every brush of fabric against my skin a whisper of last night's sin.
I sat slowly, leaning forward just enough that the silk dipped and teased.
Damon's jaw tightened.
Got you.
⸻
My father barely glanced up. "You'll be escorted to the university this morning. Damon will take you."
Of course he would. My father trusted Damon with my safety. If only he knew Damon was the very reason I needed protecting—from myself.
I smiled sweetly. "Perfect."
I felt Damon's stare like heat on my skin. Controlled. Hard. Warning me without a word.
But I wanted to see how far I could push before he broke.
⸻
The drive to campus was silent at first. Damon sat behind the wheel, jaw set, hands gripping the steering wheel like it had offended him. I leaned back, crossing my legs, letting my dress slide higher up my thigh.
His eyes flicked down for half a second. Just half a second. But I caught it.
"Something wrong, Damon?" My voice dripped with false innocence.
"Sit properly, Aria." His tone was clipped, harsh.
I tilted my head, feigning confusion. "Why? Am I distracting you?"
His hands flexed on the wheel. "You're testing me."
I smirked. "Maybe I am."
His gaze cut to mine in the rearview mirror—dark, furious, dangerously close to snapping. The same eyes that had kissed me last night without mercy.
For a moment, the car felt too small, too hot, every inch of space filled with what he wasn't saying.
⸻
At the university gates, reporters swarmed like vultures. Cameras flashed. Questions fired.
"Aria, are you dating the CEO's son?"
"Aria, rumors say you're engaged—can you confirm?"
"Who's the new bodyguard?"
I froze, blinking under the assault of cameras. But Damon didn't. He was out of the car in seconds, his hand gripping mine as he pulled me through the chaos.
And just like last night, his touch was rough, commanding, impossible to ignore. His chest shielded me, his jaw hard as he shoved reporters aside.
But this time—this time I squeezed his hand back.
Not for safety.
But to remind him of last night.
To remind him I wasn't going to let him bury it.
He felt it. I knew he did. His fingers tightened around mine, not protectively this time—possessively.
Then, as quickly as it came, he dropped my hand the moment we reached the steps. His face was stone again. His body distance. His eyes cold.
But the heat was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
And I realized something dangerous.
If Damon Cross could lose control once, he could do it again.
And I was going to make sure he did.
⸻
That night, I found him in the hallway outside my bedroom. He was stationed there as usual, silent and unshakable.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, silk robe clinging to me like a second skin. "Are you going to guard me all night?"
His eyes flicked over me once, sharp, then away. "That's my job."
"Or is your job to keep your hands off me?" I whispered.
For the first time, he froze. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides.
Slowly, his gaze lifted to mine, and what I saw in his eyes made my breath catch. Hunger. War. A man one step away from breaking.
He stepped closer. Too close. His voice was low, dangerous, vibrating through the air between us.
"Keep pushing me, Aria. Just keep pushing…"
He stopped inches from my lips, his breath hot, his body radiating heat I craved.
"…and you'll find out exactly what happens when I stop caring about rules."
My pulse thundered. My throat went dry. Every cell in my body screamed for him to close the distance.
But he didn't. He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me trembling in my doorway.
And for the first time, I realized—
I wasn't just playing with temptation.
I was playing with fire.