Damien

EVEN THOUGH IT'S been a week since our date, I can still see the look my brother gave me at dinner when I close my eyes. The copious amounts of alcohol he ingested that night couldn't hide the rage on his face. Couldn’t conceal the jealousy in its purest form when he realized what I'd done, how I'd corrupted Hannah.

But although I can't stop replaying the night in my head—the way she offered herself up to me, melted in my hands like chocolate—one nagging thought refuses to leave my brain.

Did she do it because she wanted it? Because she wanted me?

Sterling's words slither about in my brain, the ones he threw at me during our family gathering. If she's messing around with you, it's only to get my attention.

Maybe he was right. Maybe the notorious playboy broke her heart, and I'm a stepping-stone to get back to who she really wants.

John appraises me through the rearview mirror of the car, clearly reading my torment. I avoid his eyes, trying not to think about how good Hannah looks sitt