Page 19 of California Love Songs (The Davenports, #4)

Chapter Twelve

C rystal pulled away, her lips still tingling from Damien’s unexpected and seriously sexy kiss.

Oh, she’d been kissed, but never anything like this.

For all the years she’d fantasized about Damien kissing her, she now realized how far her fantasies had fallen short.

The guy she’d been dreaming about was actually a way better kisser in real life.

When did that ever happen—that the reality outshone the daydream?

It was as though all her fantasies had suddenly rolled into one burning core of need.

Her head spun and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She gazed at him, still wondering if she’d just imagined that earth-shattering kiss. But as she took in the stunned expression on his face, she knew that it had been real. Damien Davenport had kissed her.

Every part of her was melting for him. It was as if her body had turned to molten gold and she was begging for his hands to shape her.

She yearned for him, to rip off his clothes right here, right now, in the driveway, and enact every fantasy she’d ever had without a thought for what the neighbors would think.

She wanted to invite him in so badly, to finish what they’d so spectacularly begun.

But something stopped her. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Just two tiny words. Come inside . But the words wouldn’t form themselves.

Maybe it was all the years of friendship between them—all the times she’d longed to be the girl in his arms and had been treated once again like a friend.

Or, in the very early days, as though she was a slightly annoying appendage to a slightly annoying kid sister.

Despite the true friendship that had grown between them since, she suddenly felt like a starry-eyed teenager again.

She had to be careful. Had to take care of her heart.

Panic gripped her and she felt torn in two.

There was the voice in her head, trying to sensibly command her body, and then there was her heart, pulling her toward him.

His hands were still looped around her waist as he gazed at her, and they began to caress her back.

Even through her dress, every inch of her that he touched burned with need—need for him, need for everything he could give her.

And yet, she had to be sensible. She had to think about everything at risk should she give in to a wild night of passion.

She shivered as Damien’s lips found her neck.

She blamed the salsa. How could she dance so close to him, move with his body and his spirit in that uniquely connected way, without ending the night feeling like this?

And yet, she danced salsa with men all the time.

Sure, it was always fun, but she had to be honest with herself—dancing with Damien was not like dancing with anybody else.

They weren’t just two bodies moving together in a shared rhythm.

They were perfecting a dance that they’d been rehearsing for fifteen years.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on Damien’s soft lips as he teased her earlobe, murmuring her name.

It had never sounded so sexy as when he whispered it.

She shivered again, pleasure coursing through her body as she yearned with every cell of her being to have him inside her house, her bed, her body, her heart.

Was she completely out of her mind?

Through the fog of desire, she knew that this was a pivotal moment in her relationship—not only with Damien, but also with the Davenports, who felt like her extended family.

If she took him to her bed tonight, as she so badly wanted to, it would change everything.

Everything. Part of her longed to do that—to give in to the needs that she’d harbored for so long.

But the more sensible part of her realized it could all go terribly, horribly wrong.

His lips left her earlobe and he pulled away, his eyes searching hers.

The raw passion that had been there before was now giving way to something resembling speculation.

He was leaving it to her to take the next step.

On the one hand, she appreciated his being a gentleman.

On the other, she wished he’d take the decision out of her hands and just pick her up and carry her inside.

Instead, he was waiting for her to decide whether they should take this dance to its logical conclusion.

As she held his gaze, her heart beating wildly, she could see he was moved by her, that he was just as dazed and overwhelmed as she by this moment.

And yet, as she opened her mouth to speak, the words that tumbled out revealed her worst fears. “Oh, Damien,” she said, “I’m not going to be one of your groupies.”

And there it was. In the silent seconds that followed, she realized that was what had been bothering her. That was the creeping and undeniable thought that had swirled around her naked desire and curdled it into something far more complicated.

His eyes had widened in shock. “What?”

“I can’t be one of your groupies,” she repeated.

A shudder went through her—and not the good kind.

She suddenly remembered every single occasion she’d watched Damien with another girl—swarmed by hordes of screaming women—a model or actress interrupting their conversation and trying to take Damien backstage or to a bar—the bolder ones suggesting a nightcap at their hotel.

It was like a cruel blooper reel of rejection and she couldn’t make it stop.

She may as well have slapped him. His whole body seemed to recoil, and he let his hands slip from her shoulders as hurt suffused his face. “When have I ever treated you like one of my groupies?”

She didn’t know what to say. “I know you don’t treat me like one of them, but you’ve never kissed me before either.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Damien, what am I to you?”

He looked as confused as she felt, as though pondering the question for the first time. And it was pretty clear he didn’t have an instant answer. She felt like a fool.

He took a step back and did his trademark running-his-hand-through-his-already-messy-hair thing.

Oh, it melted her, just like it always did.

But still, she had to hold firm. She had to make sure she didn’t do something she might regret for the rest of her life…

in addition to throwing the groupie comment at him. That already felt like a huge mistake.

Her heart thudded as the silence grew, but this time it was in fear. Would Damien say the words she was longing to hear, or would this beautiful evening come crashing down around her?

Finally, he said, “We’re friends…” And then, obviously seeing that wasn’t the greatest response, he amended it. “More than friends. Obviously. Hell, Crystal, I didn’t intend for this to happen. I’m as confused as you are.”

She very much doubted that. She could hear the light breeze whispering through the trees, and the air smelled like pine drifting down from the forest. Overhead, the stars twinkled, the moon a perfect sliver of silver. The night could not have been more romantic.

And yet, a cold feeling was beginning to take over where she had been so very hot before. Her reality had asserted itself, and not a moment too soon. She took a step back.

“Good night, Damien,” she said. “Thanks for a lovely evening.” And then she turned and walked up the driveway toward her house.

Behind her, she heard him say, “Crys, wait!”

But she didn’t turn around. She didn’t stop.

If she went back and stood within touching distance, he would look at her with that steamy expression on his face, and all her resolve would disappear into the moonlit night. She only had so much self-control, and she was exerting all of it now as she took her keys from her bag and kept walking.

She could feel him watching her, could feel his eyes on her back, on the sway of her hips.

She could feel him wanting her as much as she could feel his confusion and his pain.

She knew him so well. How many women had taken that step—had fallen for his charm, his beautiful singing voice, and his crazy good looks?

And, if she was honest, his genuine niceness.

Despite his rock ’n’ roll persona, Damien was not one of the bad guys.

For somebody who was so famous and had pretty much everything—from looks to talent to wealth, even a nice family—she had to give him credit.

In fact, it was probably because of the Davenport clan that he was still so grounded.

Part of the reason she had to be so careful with her heart was knowing that if things went wrong with them because of this, it would crush her.

Damien was a nice man who also enjoyed women, and he’d had plenty of them over the years.

She couldn’t be one more. Just another notch on his belt.

She had managed to walk that fine line, managed to stay friends with a heartthrob, only because she never let her feelings get the better of her, never let herself believe there could be anything more than friendship between them.

Okay, she couldn’t help her fantasies, couldn’t help her daydreams, but she was too smart to give in to fantasy and believe it could be reality.

By the time she put her key in the lock, she felt sure she was doing the right thing, even as every fiber of her being wanted to turn around, run back, throw her arms around him, plaster her lips to his, and give him what he so very clearly wanted. What she also wanted.

It was pretty obvious from that kiss that she was giving up a night of insanely great sex.

Perhaps she could have his body for a night, maybe a few, maybe weeks, even for as long as he stayed in town. But that was never going to be enough.

All she’d do was fall even deeper than she already was… and she would end up hurt, alone, and worst of all, without her best and longest friend.