Damian lay in the dark, wide awake as she slept. She’d fallen asleep snuggled next to him and now one slender arm was wrapped around his waist and her head was buried in his shoulder as she breathed softly.The scent of her soap—that smell that he associated only with her—slid into his brain and blurred his thinking.He wanted to extract himself from her grip but he didn’t want to risk waking her.The night was warm but he was cold with panic.He shouldn’t have brought her here. He’d sent out all the wrong messages and then compounded it by not even waiting for her to undress before having sex with her in the pool.The intensity of it made him uncomfortable. He was used to being in control, not losing control. He was used to walking away. Used to keeping himself separate. And yet here he was, his limbs tangled with hers,anything but separate.Tomorrow, he promised himself as he stared into the darkness, when she woke he’d make some excuse. Take her back to Athens and explain he couldn’
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