Damien tilted his head, eyes dark and full of something that wasn't just lust. "You're breathtaking when you're angry," he whispered.
"You're infuriating when you're smug," she fired back.
"Fair trade."
And then, with the self-control of a saint, Damien did the most unexpected thing of all.
He stepped back.
The space between them was immediate and jarring. Luna blinked, breathless and confused.
Damien reached down and picked up her scarf, folding it neatly before placing it gently on the counter. "Take your time," he said. "I won't pressure you."
"Thank you," Luna said softly, her fingers curled around the warm teacup. She didn't look back, just picked the cup and walked away.
Damien stood there long after she left, watching the space she had occupied His fists flexed at his sides. His entire body buzzed with the ache of everything left unsaid and everything denied.
Gods help him, he was in a fix.
