We’re getting close to more Damien Stark, and I’m so excited!

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“I’ll see you at home,” he says, taking another step back, and this time I don’t mourn the distance. On the contrary, I need it. Distance and time if I’m going to pull myself together by the time I get to Santa Monica.

I turn, taking his hands as I look into his face. It’s the first time I’ve looked straight at him in days, and I revel in his beauty. The raven-dark hair. His dual-colored eyes, one black and one amber. That lean, muscled body that seems to have been designed for a tailored suit, but looks damn perfect without one.

But it’s not his looks that make him so compelling. It’s his bearing. His confidence. As if there’s nothing in the world that he wants that he can’t have. Including me.

The thought makes me smile, and as always, I’m struck as much by the beauty of this man as by the love for me reflected in his eyes. “I’m glad you came.”

“But I didn’t,” he says, managing to keep a straight face.

I bite back a laugh, then flash him a stern look. “Mind out of the gutter. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he says. “And we’ll take care of my interpretation later.”

I flash a coy smile. “Is that a promise?”

He hooks a finger under my chin, his eyes locked on mine. “Baby, it’s a demand.”