Over the weeks, Damon had done exactly what he had set out to do, and he had done it with the kind of precision that came from a man who never allowed emotions to outrun strategy.
He had built something steady with Daisy, something that looked harmless on the surface and even felt warm at times, but beneath it all he kept a clear, deliberate line drawn in his mind, bold and unshakable, a boundary he refused to cross no matter how tempting or convenient the moment became.
There were times she tested that boundary without even realizing she was doing it. Like the afternoon she had appeared at his door in a fitted dress that hugged her curves a little too well, her back turned to him as she asked in a soft, almost shy tone if he could help zip her up because she could not quite reach.
He had stepped forward, careful not to let his fingers linger longer than necessary, the scent of her perfume brushing against his senses while his wolf stirred with awareness.
