Eena’s POV

I barely noticed the soft sound of fabric slipping until a cool draft brushed my shoulder.

My cheongsam had come undone at the zipper, the silk sliding lower without my awareness. Heat rushed up my spine in a furious wave.

I tried to tug it back up, but Damien caught both of my wrists in one hand and lifted them easily above my head, pinning me to the door as if he’d been waiting for an excuse to do exactly that.

“Elena,” he murmured, his breath feathering across my ...