Damon POV:
She emerged from the bathroom just as I was about to crawl my way to her.
Every bone in my body felt like it was melting from the inside out, fire licking through my veins, hunger digging its claws deep into my soul. Not just desire. Not just lust. But need. Heat. A primal, all-consuming force that demanded I take, claim, dominate.
And gods, when she stepped out, the soft golden light from the bathroom haloed her figure, and I almost lost my mind.
Her gasp sliced through the haze in my head.
"Damon," she whispered, her voice laced with alarm as she rushed toward me.
I was on the floor—shirt clinging to my damp skin, knees scraped from dragging myself toward the only relief I knew. Her.
Her hands reached me.
"Damon!" she dropped to her knees beside me. Her hands, gods—her hands on my arms, my back, my burning skin—they cooled me like patches of frost on a wildfire. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
