LILY'S POV
I could still feel his touch. The way Damien's fingers had tightened around my wrist, the heat of his body so close to mine, it was like my skin was on fire. Every step I took away from him felt heavier, as if the very air in the room had clung to me, refusing to let go. I shouldn't have stayed. I shouldn't have let him push me, tempt me, make me feel things I knew I shouldn't.
But I had.
And now, walking down the hallway of Damien's penthouse, my legs felt like they were made of lead. I told myself I had done the right thing—pulling away, making an excuse to leave before it went any further. But the truth was, I was scared. Scared of Damien. Scared of the way he made me feel. Scared of the fact that I was starting to crave that darkness in him, something I'd never felt with Caleb.
As I reached the elevator, I pressed the button with shaky fingers. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the adrenaline from the encounter still buzzing through my veins. The door slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the lobby. My reflection stared back at me in the polished metal, and I barely recognized myself. My face was flushed, my hair disheveled, but it wasn't just the physical signs of distress that unsettled me. It was the look in my eyes—the desire, the conflict, the awareness that something in me was waking up.
The elevator descended, and I wished for a moment that I could just disappear into the floor, that I could erase the last hour from my mind. But it was too late. Damien's words had already taken root, and no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I knew I was far from untouched by him.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and I stepped out, my footsteps echoing in the quiet lobby. I didn't look back. I didn't dare.
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I was barely through the door of my apartment when Caleb's voice cut through the silence. "Lily?"
I froze, my hand still on the doorknob, the sudden rush of emotion nearly choking me. The anger, the fear, the guilt—they all seemed to flood in at once, and I struggled to keep my breathing even, to keep the mask intact.
"I'm here," I called back, my voice tight, but I managed to make it sound casual.
Caleb appeared in the living room, his face lighting up when he saw me. He was wearing a crisp button-up shirt, the top buttons undone in that casual way he always did when he got home from work. He looked like the perfect boyfriend—the charming, successful man I'd fallen for. But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw the cracks in that façade. The cracks I had been ignoring for far too long.
"Did you have a good time?" he asked, his voice soft, almost affectionate. He was trying to act like everything was normal. But I could see the faint tension in his jaw, the tightness in his posture. Caleb knew something was off.
"Yeah," I replied, forcing a smile, "I was just about to take a shower." I needed to clear my head. To wash away the lingering touch of Damien. "How was your night?"
"Long," Caleb said, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it across the couch. "Had a few drinks with some of the clients." He didn't elaborate, didn't offer any more details. And I didn't ask. I didn't want to know.
I stepped around him, moving toward the bathroom, but before I could reach the door, Caleb's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His touch was familiar—comforting, almost—but tonight it felt foreign. His fingers were rough against my skin, and it made me cringe inside, though I hid it behind a calm expression.
"Wait," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a step closer. "You sure everything's alright? You seem… off."
I shrugged, trying to brush him off. "I'm fine, Caleb. Just tired."
But he wasn't fooled. He pulled me closer, his grip tightening, his eyes scanning my face for any hint of something more. "No, you're not. What's going on?"
I bit my lip, torn between the urge to lie, to protect him from whatever was spinning in my head, and the temptation to tell him the truth. But I knew the truth would tear everything apart. I couldn't risk it—not yet.
"Nothing," I said again, this time with more force. "I'm just… trying to figure things out."
His eyes softened, though I didn't miss the hint of suspicion in them. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."
I wanted to scream, to tell him everything—about Damien, about the way I was feeling, about the way Caleb's lies were starting to unravel in front of me. But I kept my mouth shut, swallowing the words before they could escape. It was easier this way. Easier to keep pretending that everything was fine when it was so clearly not.
"Yeah," I muttered, "I know."
Caleb let go of my wrist, but his gaze lingered on me, searching, questioning. It was almost like he could see the cracks forming around me, like he knew something had changed.
"Okay," he said after a moment, finally backing away. "I'll make us something to eat. You want anything?"
I shook my head, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I leaned against it, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to get away. I had to clear my head, or I was going to lose myself completely.
I turned the shower on, the hot water hitting my skin, but it did nothing to wash away the thoughts swirling in my mind. Damien's face, his voice, his touch—they were everywhere. And I hated myself for it. Hated the fact that I was even tempted by someone like him.
But there was a darker, deeper part of me—something I didn't want to acknowledge—that wanted him. That wanted what he could give me. I wasn't just afraid of Damien. I was afraid of myself. Afraid of the fact that I might not be as innocent as I liked to think.
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The rest of the evening passed in a blur of forced normalcy. Caleb and I ate dinner together, small talk filling the silence between us, but my mind was elsewhere. I kept hearing Damien's words echoing in my head, taunting me, tempting me. The pull was undeniable, and the guilt was suffocating. I had to get out. I had to stop this before it consumed me.
But the question lingered—could I?