“I don’t need a distraction right now, but my self-control is hanging on by a fucking thread,” he says, dragging his lips over my cheek. “If I see someone else’s hands on you, I’ll break them. If you come to the party, the only person who’ll touch you will be me.” It feels like someone’s dripping hot lava into my bloodstream. I’m burning up. “I don’t even know your first name,” I mumble like an idiot, still in shock at his revelation. “Damiano,” he says. “But don’t you dare say it back to me. If I hear my name just once on your lips, I know I’ll become addicted.”
