The kiss started gentle—a soft brush of lips, a tentative exploration.
It lasted maybe three seconds before it exploded into something desperate and consuming.
Damien's hand tangled in her hair, angling her head as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that stole her breath. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, and she gasped at the contact.
He was so warm. So solid. So alive against her.
She'd never been kissed like this. Never knew it was possible to feel like you were drowning and flying and burning all at once.
Her hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, and she felt rather than heard the low groan that rumbled through his chest.
The elevator chimed.
They broke apart, both breathing hard, and she realized they'd reached the top floor. The doors slid open to reveal an empty hallway.
Neither of them moved.
"Aria."
Her name on his lips sent another shiver through her. When had she told him her name? She couldn't remember, couldn't think past the need coursing through her veins.
"Room 3501," she managed, her voice husky and unfamiliar to her own ears.
He stepped out of the elevator, pulling her with him, and she practically stumbled trying to keep up with his long strides. Her hands shook as she fumbled for the key card in her purse.
He took it from her gently, swiped it across the reader, and pushed the door open.
The room was beautiful—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, a massive bed with pristine white linens, soft lighting that cast everything in warm amber.
But she barely registered any of it.
All she could see was him, backlit by the city lights, his eyes glowing in the dimness as he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The door clicked shut behind them.
"I need to tell you something," she said quickly, before she lost her nerve. "Before we... I need you to know that I can't use protection. And I won't ask anything from you after tonight. No contact, no obligations, nothing. I just need—"
"Why?"
The question was soft but intense. He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup her face again in that gentle way that made her want to cry.
"Why do you need this?"
Because my brother is dying. Because his last wish is to meet my baby. Because I'm married to a ghost who doesn't want me and time is running out and I'm so desperate I'm willing to sleep with a stranger just to make Asher smile one more time.
But she couldn't say any of that.
"Does it matter?" she whispered.
His thumb brushed across her cheekbone, and she leaned into the touch without thinking.
"No," he said finally, his voice rough. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except this moment."
Then his mouth was on hers again, and thinking became impossible.