The coffee dripped from his glove, steam curling in the winter air. Damian’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he muttered darkly, “Watch where you’re going.” But then his gaze locked on you—frozen, sharp, disbelieving. “…You?” His voice was low, dangerous, almost broken. “Of all people… why is it you standing here in front of me?”
Comments
0No comments yet.