"Damian, are you nervous?"

"No. Why would I be nervous?"

"Because we've never done this before."

His eyes flicker with amusement as he replies, "Sweetheart, there are a lot of things we've never done before."

He lifts his elbow, allowing me to wrap my fingers around his bicep. We strut into the gymnasium, where our senior prom awaits.

In all my time at Starkton High, I never envisioned I'd attend a silly rite of passage like prom. Social functions aren't my thing. I prefer cozy evenings in with good books and endless cups of coffee.

But when Damian asked me to go with him, I couldn't say no.

"Would you like a drink?" he offers, nodding toward the refreshment table.

"Please," I answer, already sweating under the fluorescent lights.

He kisses my cheek before squeezing through a group of grinding teenagers. Chuckling, I turn away, only to find myself face to face with Effie.

"Well, aren't you the belle of the ball?" Her dark eyes go wide as she stares me up and down. "I feel like the ugly duckling in comparison to you."

"Don't be dramatic," I toss back. "You're stunning, Effie."

In a body-hugging, bright red dress, she looks beautiful and classy. Her burgundy hair has been curled to perfection, cascading down her back in bouncy ringlets.

I chose a simple ivory gown that cinches my waist and flows out at the hips. Like most of my wardrobe, it was a thrift store find. In another life, I think it might have been a wedding dress.

"Damian is eyeing you like a hungry wolf," Effie comments, glancing at my date, who is balancing three plastic cups of punch in his hand.

"Good." I wink at my friend and then relieve Damian by taking one of the cups.

He furrows his brow, watching us skeptically. "What are you ladies talking about?"

"Nothing," she and I say in unison, and then both giggle like children.

In the past few months, I've grown fond of Effie. I haven't had the best luck with female friends—one died, one was evil, and one betrayed me—but I have faith that Effie and I will remain close. I'm excited to attend Blackwell University with her and Damian in the fall.

I'm excited to finally escape this wretched town.

On the other side of the gymnasium, I spot Jessica with Evan, Janelle, and Diego—her old crowd. I'd be bluffing if I said I wasn't surprised to see her with them. She always told me how exhausting it was to live up to their unrealistic standards, and how she just wanted friends with whom she could be herself around.

But I don't fault her for going back to them. Loneliness is a powerful emotion. It makes us act out of character and do things we're not proud of.

I miss Jessica. A part of me always will. But I know we'll never be friends again.

I could forgive her for her blabbing to my doctor about Hank. That came from a place of love and concern, and I know she meant no malice by it. However, I can't let go of the fact that she snooped through my bedroom while I was in the hospital and stole the letter my grandmother wrote me. Then, to add insult to injury, she showed said letter to her hotshot attorney aunt and ghosted me like a frat boy. I can't just forgive and forget and be her best friend again.

Besides, I doubt she wishes to associate with the new owner of her ex-love's heart.

Damian, Effie, and I chat while we sip our punch. The whole time, his hand never leaves my waist, and his ravenous gaze never drifts from mine. I lean into his hard body, intoxicated by his warmth and his masculine scent. In a pinstripe steel gray suit, he looks like a Calvin Klein model.

And I'm the lucky lady who gets to accompany him home.

The lights dim as a slow song blares through the speakers. His fingers find mine, and he murmurs in my ear, "Dance with me?"

I accept his request, allowing him to pull me toward the dance floor. His hands rest on my hips, my arms loop around his neck, and our bodies sway to the music in perfect rhythm.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his hot breath fanning my cheek.

"It's the dress," I brush him off.

He shakes his head. "I thought you were beautiful when you rolled out of bed this morning with yesterday's makeup all over your face, and I think you're beautiful now. I don't care what you wear, Layla. To me, you'll always be the most breathtaking person in the room."

Blushing, I rest my cheek against his chest and close my eyes, letting him take control and move our bodies to the slow tune.

When the music stops, I open my eyes. Damian is staring down at me, his blue eyes filled with so much adoration that it causes my heart to burst.

"I love you," I breathe out.

"I love you," he repeats, a smile tugging at his lips, which I so badly want to kiss.

"So... we made our prom night appearance," I say in a hushed tone, "but what do you say we get out of here?"

He nods his head eagerly before taking my hand and pulling—yes, pulling—me out of the gymnasium.

"Slow down, zippy!" I inhale, already short of breath from attempting to keep up with his long strides.

Smirking, he lifts me off my feet and carries me bridal style down the empty hallway. I rest my head on his shoulder, smiling up at him like a lovesick fool.

"Take us home, Damian."

Balancing me on one arm, he uses the other to open the door to a janitor's closet. His lips meet mine, and next thing I know, we're standing in his bedroom.

Placing Layla on the bed, I slip off my suit coat and throw my tie on top of it. Dressing up was fun for a few hours. Now, I'm ready to take these itchy layers off.

Layla's green eyes twinkle with mischief. She gets on her knees and begins to undo the buttons of my shirt.

"Layla," I moan, reveling in the way her fingers feel against my bare skin.

She bites her lip and continues to disrobe me. Once my shirt and pants are on the floor, she goes for the hem of my boxers.

"We have all night," I remind her. "We don't need to rush."

Shaking her head, she says, "I know, but haven't we waited long enough?"

Nodding my head in agreement, I allow her to take off my boxers. I damn near lose my mind when she fondles my exposed length.

"Undress me, Damian," she purrs, batting her eyelashes in a way that makes we want to ravish her here and now.

My fingers stroke her soft skin until I find the zipper of her dress. Slowly, I pull the tab down until the fabric falls off of her body.

"You didn't wear a bra," I comment.

She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "The dress was strapless. I didn't need to."

I take her breasts in my hands and massage them. A soft, satisfied moan escapes her lips as I pinch her hard nipples between my fingertips.

I turn her around, placing my lips at the nape of her neck. Working my way down her spine, I kiss every scar, every disfigurement, every bad memory of her life before us. If I kiss her long enough, maybe I can make it all better. Maybe I can chase her demons away.

"I hate that he hurt you," I murmur, spinning her back around. "I hate the thought of anyone hurting you."

She looks up at me, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips. "Hank can't hurt me anymore, Damian. No one can."

I knit my brows together. "What do you mean?"

"I may not be able to teleport across town or lift a car over my head," she says, "but I'm powerful. Growing up, people said I was too smart for my own good. It turns out that my mind really is my greatest weapon."

"Have you used it since the shooting?" I ask, referring to her telepathic ability.

"Yeah, on Hank. That was how I got the DNA sample."

"Did you mean to... or was it another freak accident?"

"I didn't intend to control him," she admits, "but you and Effie were right. It's all about emotion. I was angry with Hank, and the next thing I knew, he was doing exactly what I wanted."

Despite our close proximity and lack of clothing, my arousal wanes. I take a seat on the bed, propping my elbows on my thighs.

"Did I do something wrong?" Layla questions me, hurt washing over her face.

"No, of course not," I assure her. "I just... well, this ability of yours—"

"I would never use it on you!" she blurts out, shaking her head. "God, Damian, I would never take away your free will like that. Hell, I don't plan on using it unless I absolutely have to. I meant what I said before. I know what it's like to have no control, and I don't wish that upon anyone."

"I trust you, Layla," I whisper, taking her hands in mine. She has the kindest heart, and I'm certain she would never hurt anyone—on purpose.

But that's the thing about superpowers. As soon as you think you have them under control, they change ever so slightly, giving you more hoops to jump through and more secrets to hide.

"I didn't mean to spoil the mood," I say, desperate to change the subject. We didn't leave prom early for this. "Come here."

She takes a seat on my lap, resting her forehead against mine. Her eyelids flutter with sleepiness, and I can't help but chuckle.

"Maybe it's a good thing we left early. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I do not."

"If you're tired, then you're tired. I don't want my first time with you to be when you're half-asleep and not all here."

Her eyes shoot open. "I'm awake, I promise."

Laughing, I flip us over so she's lying beneath me. She bites her lip, and all of a sudden, I'm rock hard again.

"You're awake, too," she says in a hushed tone.

"I am," I agree, rubbing my length between her legs.

"Oh, Damian," she hums, arching her hips upward. "I want you. Now."

"I've wanted you for god knows how long." I slip my fingers into her panties, caressing the sleek wetness of her core.

"Fuck," she mumbles. She moves against my strokes, trembling beneath me. "I need you. All of you."

My movements come to a halt as I stare down at her, waiting for her to say more. If we take this next step, there's no turning back. I can't make love to her and pretend she's just a friend.

"I love you," I whisper, "and I want to be yours. Forever. This isn't a one-and-done for me. If we go there—"

"We're already there," she cuts in with a shake of her head. "Damian, do you remember what we said at the cabin? We're both adults, and the physical stuff is irrelevant. What matters is in here." She points to her heart, circling it slowly with her fingertip. "Our love will make the sex ten times better, but the sex won't define our relationship. What defines us is how we feel, and the way I feel right now...."

I watch as she purses her lips together, struggling to find the right words.

What she doesn't realize is she's already said them.

"Are you still on birth control?" I ask.

She nods her head.

"Do you want me to make love to you?"

Again, she nods.

"Say it out loud," I murmur, needing to hear it.

"Make love to me," she pleads. "I want you inside of me, Damian."

With that, I tear—yes, tear—off her panties and position my rock-hard shaft at her opening. Slowly, carefully, I push my way inside.

A/N:
It only took them four years to get here, but I'm so glad they finally are ❤️
Tell me your thoughts. Love you all 💕