–Damon–
I love watching my wife's eyes roll back as she comes—utterly consumed, entirely mine. I love it when she dominates me, when her body commands and my soul obeys. But what I love most is when her gaze locks with mine. I don't know if she can see or not—honestly, I don't care. I meet her gaze anyway, holding it, pretending we're staring deep into each other's eyes.
She has the most unique eyes—violet, deep, haunting. Like stormy amethyst stones. I could get lost in them. I want to get lost in them. Forever.
"Wow," I chuckled when I caught her getting dressed. Right on schedule. Same time. Same date. For four years now. Yesterday was her father's anniversary with his second wife. And today? We're back in the same hotel room where we first made love.
Coincidence?
No. I made the reservation myself.
But the day and time?
8:30 a.m.—the exact minute she walked out after our one-night stand.
The same day she was attacked.
I remember every detail.
Every second.
