Chapter 25-Losing Control

Damon barely heard the sounds of the gala as Phoebe walked away.

His blood was still hot, his mind racing, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

She had touched him.

A single, featherlight brush of her fingers along his jaw—and it had shattered every ounce of control he'd been clinging to.

And then she had left.

Just like that.

Just like before.

---

Phoebe downed her glass of champagne in one gulp, ignoring the questioning glance from Daniel.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Of course," she said smoothly.

Liar.

Because she felt Damon's stare from across the room, burning into her skin like a brand.

Because her heart was still racing, her breath still uneven.

Because when she had walked away, part of her had wanted him to stop her.

To pull her back.

To kiss her senseless.

She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second. Get a grip, Phoebe.

She turned to Daniel, forcing another smile. "Tell me about your next investment project."

He seemed pleased by her interest, launching into an explanation.

And yet—

She barely heard a word.

Because Damon was moving again.

---

He wasn't subtle this time.

Didn't bother with pretense.

One second, Phoebe was nodding at something Daniel said. The next, Damon was there—his hand firm on her lower back as he leaned down, his breath warm against her ear.

"Dance with me."

It wasn't a request.

Phoebe stiffened. "I'm busy."

"Not anymore."

Before she could protest, he was guiding her onto the dance floor, his grip unyielding, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

The music was slow. Intimate.

She swallowed. "You're being dramatic."

Damon's hand slid to her waist, pulling her close. "Am I?"

"Yes."

His gaze darkened. "Then why are you shaking?"

Phoebe cursed inwardly.

Because she was.

Because his touch still made her weak.

Because this—he—was still her greatest mistake.

And yet, she couldn't move away.

Couldn't stop herself from falling into the dangerous rhythm of their past.

"I saw the way you looked at me," he murmured.

She tilted her chin up. "And I saw the way you looked at her."

His grip tightened.

"That wasn't real," he said.

She exhaled shakily. "Then what is this?"

Damon stared at her for a long moment.

Then, without warning—

He pulled her flush against him.

So close she could feel his heartbeat.

So close she could barely breathe.

"This," he said lowly, "is real."

Phoebe's chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

"Damon…"

But before she could finish—before she could say something she'd regret—

The song ended.

And just like that, he let her go.

Stepped back.

Leaving her reeling.

And then, with a devastating smirk, he murmured—

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

And walked away.