Damon's POV

Later that morning...

She was in my hoodie. My damn hoodie - sleeves past her wrists, the hem brushing mid-thigh, and those sneakers that made her look like she belonged to no one but me.

My fingers found hers the moment we stepped out of the car. She didn't pull away. In fact, she squeezed back, her thumb brushing mine like a silent hello.

God, I was losing it.

In a good way.

A dangerously good way.

We strolled into the building, her steps light, eyes curious as she looked around ...