Chapter 26: The Edge of Control

Phoebe didn't sleep that night.

She tried.

She tossed and turned, buried herself under the covers, even turned off her phone to avoid the temptation of texting him.

But none of it worked.

Because all she could think about was him.

The way his hand felt on her waist.

The way his voice had dropped when he said, this is real.

The way he had walked away—knowing damn well he had left her shaken.

And worst of all?

She had let him.

---

The next morning, Phoebe walked into the office with a plan.

Avoid him.

Ignore him.

Pretend last night never happened.

But as soon as she stepped into her office, she knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Because sitting on her desk was a bouquet of white lilies.

And a note.

Don't overthink it, sweetheart. You already know the truth.

Her fingers tightened around the paper.

That arrogant—

"Rough morning?"

She turned sharply.

Damon stood in her doorway, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Phoebe exhaled slowly. Control yourself.

"I don't need flowers from you."

He shrugged. "I know. But you look like you could use them."

She glared. "I don't."

"Right." His lips twitched. "So you haven't been thinking about me all night?"

Her pulse spiked.

But she didn't let it show.

Instead, she crossed her arms, raising a brow. "Are you asking me that? Or trying to distract yourself from whatever you were thinking about?"

For the first time, his expression faltered.

Just a flicker.

But she saw it.

And suddenly, she wasn't the only one on edge.

He stepped further inside, his voice softer now. "What if I said I was thinking about you?"

Phoebe's breath hitched.

Because there it was.

The moment she had been dreading.

The one where she'd have to admit that despite everything—

She still wanted him.

Still felt everything, just as intensely as before.

But she couldn't do that.

So instead, she did what she did best.

She lied.

"That would be a mistake."

Damon tilted his head slightly. "Would it?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then tell me to stop."

She swallowed.

He took another step.

"Tell me to walk away, Phoebe."

She opened her mouth.

Tried to force the words out.

But she couldn't.

Because for all the walls she had built—

For all the times she had convinced herself this was over—

The truth was simple.

She didn't want him to stop.

---

The silence stretched between them, thick with everything she refused to say.

Damon watched her, waiting. Daring her.

Tell me to stop.

Tell me to walk away.

But she couldn't.

Because she didn't want to.

And judging by the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands flexed at his sides, he already knew.

"Phoebe."

His voice was low. Steady.

It shouldn't have made her shiver, but it did.

She took a shaky breath. "This—"

"Don't."

A single word, but it cut through her defenses like a blade.

Damon shook his head, stepping closer until there was nothing but inches between them.

"You can lie to yourself all you want." His eyes darkened. "But don't lie to me."

Phoebe's pulse pounded in her ears.

She hated this.

Hated that no matter how hard she tried to fight him—fight this—he still knew her better than anyone ever had.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Damon knew her.

He saw through the walls she put up, through the perfectly rehearsed words she used to keep people at a distance.

With him, she had no armor.

And she was terrified.

"Damon…" she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

But he wasn't listening anymore.

Because the moment her gaze dropped to his lips, just for a fraction of a second—

It was over.

He reached for her.

Fingers curling around her waist, pulling her close—closer than she should allow.

And she should stop this.

She should push him away.

But when his lips brushed against hers, soft and careful, her breath stuttered—

And she was gone.

Phoebe kissed him back before she could think, before she could stop herself.

It wasn't like last time.

There was no hesitation, no uncertainty.

Only heat.

Only the sharp, aching relief of giving in to something they had both been running from for far too long.

Damon's hands tangled in her hair, and she pressed herself closer, lost in the way he felt. The way he held her.

Like she was the only thing that mattered.

Like he'd never let go.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe even years—

She didn't want him to.