"W-what's wrong?" she asked softly, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her lips parted as she nervously bit down on the lower one.
"Fuck," he growled.
His hand slid into her wet hair, wrapping the strands around his fist and tugging gently so her head tilted back, exposing her throat.
He loomed over her, rain cascading between them.
"Forgive me," he rasped.
And then he closed the distance, capturing her soft lips with his own.
Damien returned late that night, shaking the rain from his umbrella before placing it beside the door. The house was quiet.
He checked on Mathieu first. The boy was asleep.
A restless part of him urged him to check on Jacqueline too.
He climbed the stairs and headed toward the last room at the far end of the hallway. When he found the door slightly open, a frown creased his forehead. He stepped inside.
Empty.
The bathroom was empty too.
