Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I sucked in a breath as it flung open, the wood splintering,
the handle crashing to the floor, and I heard my chair tip over
and hit the wood.
I shot up in bed, shaking my head against the heat rushing
my belly and the warmth between my legs. “Don’t,” I begged.
But I wasn’t sure if I was telling myself or him.
I didn’t hear him move, but I knew it was Damon. The
cloves drifted off his clothes, and the security would’ve
stopped him if it wasn’t.
A light sweat made the silk pajamas stick to my skin, and I
pulled off the sheet, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered. “I can’t think straight.”
His footsteps approached, he stopped in front of me, and I
heard ice clink in a glass as he took a drink and cupped my
chin.
He ran his fingers over my jaw, possessive.
“You don’t want to want it,” he said in a low, deep voice,
“but you do.”
“Please.” Just leave. “Please.”
Don’t touch me. Don’t hold me. Don’t take me in your
arms.
He set the glass down on my nightstand, and I heard him
remove clothes, his jacket maybe, and throw it off somewhere.
“Lie down,” he told me.
“No,” I mumbled.
I heard buttons go flying as he tore off his shirt and then
the jingle of a buckle as he unfastened his belt.
“Lie down, Winter,” he said sternly.
He’s not him. He’s not who I fell in love with.
He was my sister’s husband, and he wanted to make sure I
was never happy again.