Page 19

EIGHTEEN

Damon

Christ, I’ve been delusional.

Thinking I could stay away.

Thinking I could somehow fix all this shit for her and keep my distance.

Could stay just friends.

When I dream about her most every night. When I think about her far too often during the day. When I?—

“Damon,” she whispers then asks when my eyes come to hers, “What changed?”

“You gave me you.”

Her eyes go wide. “No, I didn’t. I shared some shit that happened to me because you’re a pushy asshole?—”

I shake my head. “That’s not the right story, Red.”

Her eyes go even wider. “Damon?—”

“You’re scared.”

“Damn right, I am.” She waves a hand down her front. “I’m a mess inside and nobody needs to?—”

I lean in, press my forehead to hers. “You’re not a mess. You’re strong and beautiful and smart and talented and?—”

“Stop,” she whispers.

“No,” I tell her. “You’re a good person and you’ve been through so much and you’re still here, baby. You’re still fighting and thriving and?—”

“Stop.”

“I couldn’t protect my sister and went off half-cocked, beating up that guy, paying the price for it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t protect her in the first place.”

“Damon—”

“But you, baby, you tried to save them even though you were fighting for your own life?—”

“I didn’t, and I didn’t protect the women on the team.” Her voice breaks and she leans back. “If I had, things would have been different and Ivy and the others wouldn’t have?—”

“You were scared and hurt, baby. You did what you could.”

She shakes her head, pushes away from me, shoulders slumping as she whispers, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to talk about the past anymore. It’s over and there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

I can give her that play.

If we keep digging at the wounds of our pasts they’ll never heal.

And I don’t want her to hurt anymore.

“Okay, baby,” I say softly. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

“What if I said that I didn’t want to talk at all?” She leans in, hand settling on my chest, drifting lower.

My dick goes hard in an instant, but I catch her hand before it can get there.

“Red”—I press a kiss to her palm—“I didn’t bring you here for this.”

“I know.” Her mouth curves. “But I’ve dreamed about it for a long time. Will you…” Her lips press flat then release, reddening those plump lips of hers. “Will you give that to me?” she whispers. “Will you fill me up?”

Christ, this is dangerous as fuck.

All of it.

From showing up on her porch to hanging out with Beth and John to bringing her to my room, all of it is dumb as hell. But the constant push-pull of want and doing what’s right is?—

It’s all empty.

How are you going to make it better for her?

I can’t keep it up any longer—the distance, the keeping my needs in check, doing the right thing because it’s the right thing.

So I finally…just give in.

Weaving my fingers into her hair, I tilt her head back. Wide green eyes. Pink cheeks. Kissable lips.

Gorgeous heart.

I lower my mouth to hers and the first touch of her lips against mine is electric.

Damn.

That’s not good for my control, not at fucking all.

And when, a moment later, she moans softly, lips parting to allow me in to taste her, it’s even worse for my fragile hold on it.

My dick is aching. Sweat has broken out on my spine. My nose is full of the soft scent of her, the silk of her hair settles over my hand. I need to feel her body against mine, need to stroke the curves of her, need to taste them.

But she’s two steps ahead of me.

She places both of her hands against my chest and shoves hard enough that I’m almost dumped out of my chair. The next second, she’s on her feet, grabbing my hand, dragging me up too.

I snag her bag and then we’re inside the room, bag on the ground, slider closed, my hands all over that gorgeous body. It feels like everything I’ve dreamed of—soft and feminine and mine .

“Damon,” she whispers, her hands kneading at my shoulders, drawing me closer, lips parting.

And I can’t resist the invitation.

I bend, take her mouth, meeting the thrusts of her tongue, driving my hand into her hair again, tilting her head back and tasting her exactly how I’ve dreamed of.

“Bed,” she murmurs. “Hurry.”

“No.”

She jerks, eyes going wide, the haze of pleasure fading, concern and embarrassment weaving through expression.

I gently tuck her hair behind her ear. “We’re not going to hurry, Red.”

Those eyes go wider.

“We’re going to take it slow, going to squeeze every bit of pleasure out of tonight we can.”

Lips parting, emerald eyes going somehow wider.

“I’m going to learn every inch of your body, learn what makes you squirm and what makes you blush and what makes you”—I slide my hand down her belly, slipping one finger into the waistband of her slacks, brushing it lightly over the silken skin there—“ wet .”

Her inhale is sharp.

“And if you don’t like something, if we go too far or too fast or you just change your mind”—I cup her jaw—“all you have to do is just say the word, baby. We’ll stop, no matter how far we’ve gone and there will be no questions asked.”

She goes still, not breathing for so long that I say, “Breathe, baby.”

She exhales.

And I see it, that look that used to bring terror to every part of me—because I couldn’t risk falling for someone, because if something bad happened and I wasn’t there to stop it, because if my hold on my temper snapped and I was the one to inflict hurt…

How could I fucking live with myself.

But right now it’s not fear I’m feeling.

Right now, it makes me feel a hundred feet tall.

“Damon,” she whispers and her next question hits me hard, “Are you sure? This— Us—” Her eyes close for a moment then reopen. “You made it pretty clear before that you didn’t want?—”

“I’ve always wanted.”

Her fingers flex on my shoulders.

“Always,” I repeat. “I’m not convinced I’m good for you. I’m not convinced that I can give you what you need. I’m not convinced I can trust myself with you?—”

She frowns.

“But”—I swipe my thumb lightly along her cheek, tracing the edge of the flush there—“I’m also not convinced that knowing all I do about you, knowing how beautiful and smart and funny and sweet you are…I’m not convinced I can stay away any longer, baby.”