Without a word, she reached for the belt at her waist and tugged. Her robe slipped free, pooling at her feet. She stood bare before him. Her breasts rose and fell with shallow breaths, her curves trembling under his hungry, tortured gaze.
She was offering herself, her body, her love, her trust—everything she was—to remind him that he was hers. That he had always been hers.
Damien's gaze swept over her. It lingered only a moment. With a guttural sound, half-growl and half-broken sigh, he let the shirt slip from his hand and fall to the floor. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, his hands finding her waist with the desperation of a drowning man clutching for air.
His mouth crashed onto hers, crushing, claiming. This was a man starved, a king torn in half by curse and fate, finally taking back the one thing that anchored him to sanity.
