Page 250 of Terms of Exposure
Maybe tonight, after dinner, after whatever Damien had planned, I'd ask him for a scene.
Let him take me apart and put me back together again.
Let the world go quiet for a little while.
The terrace doors stood open, a warm breeze drifting through, carrying the scent of roses.
You've got to be kidding me.
I smiled as I took in the soft glow of the setting sun.
Then I froze.
The air went solid in my lungs, suspended in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
The terrace had been transformed.
Roses—hundreds of them—cascaded along the railings in waves of deep crimson. Fairy lights threaded through the blooms, just beginning to pulse as the sky deepened its blues.
A table for two sat at the center, draped in white linen.
And Damien.
Standing at the edge of it all, hands in his pockets, watching me like nothing else on that terrace existed.
He crossed the terrace toward me, each step unhurried, deliberate—like he was savoring the moment.
"Hi," he murmured, voice low and warm.
"Hi yourself." I tilted my head, letting a smile tug at my mouth. "Two dates in a row, Mr. Holt? I'm going to start expecting this every time."
"Good," he said. "You should."
"You've set the bar dangerously high, you know."
His mouth curved, that familiar confident edge sliding into place. "I've always liked a challenge."
I laughed, leaning into him. His arms wrapped around me, but they were—
Shaking.
"Damien?" I searched his face. "What's going on?"
He didn't answer.
I looked up at him through my lashes.
His face had gone ashen. Sweat beading his hairline.
"What—"
"Come with me," he said at last, taking my hand.
He laced his fingers through mine and led me across the terrace. Toward the balcony, where the skyline glowed amber against the deepening night.
Damien stopped at the edge, the city spread out behind him like a promise.
The breeze caught a strand of my hair, and he reached up, tucking it behind my ear. His touch lingered at my jaw, reverent.
