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“Don’t you care?” I know the risk my question entails. We barely know each other. In fact, wedon’tknow each other at all. Yet there’s a chemistry between us that I’ve never had with anyone else in my twenty-four years of life.
Like a silent understanding. A mutual agreement of some kind.
He sighs, as he does that sexy maneuver again, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a left turn.
“It’s not my place to judge. Maybe he doesn’t fulfill your needs.” He shrugs as if it’s that simple, and somehow his reaction infuriates me.
I’m counting on him being respectful enough not to steal small touches anymore. Because I don’t know that I can be strong enough not to let him all on my own. I expected him to get angry and remind us that as boss and employee, this couldn’t happen.
Now it seems I’ll have to be the one to do it.
“He fulfills my needs plenty.”
What does he know about Harvey anyway?
A part of me wants to call him an asshole while the smart, rational part reminds me that he’s my boss despite the wrong turn our working relationship is taking.
“Good. We shouldn’t anyway.”
I’m so busy staring at him, this man that wasn’t in my life not long ago. This man that piques my interest and has turned my dormant feelings into curious, vibrant ones.
“Shouldn’t what?”
“Fuck, Gemma. We shouldn’t fuck.”
That’s exactly what I want isn’t it? I want this man to take me by the throat and pin me against a wall as he passionately kisses me.
Damon is fire and volcanoes and hurricanes.
And I want to be caught living in the center of it. If only to feel. If only to live life to the fullest.
The rest of the ride is silent. I thank him when I get home, and all I get is a nod in response. Then he makes the vehicle switch with his driver who smiles at me as he hands me my keys. They wait for me to get inside before heading off.
I know Harvey’s awake because I saw his light on from outside. I remove my heels and my coat and tiptoe to his bedroom door, softly knocking on it.
“Hi...” I say, extremely happy to find that Claire left.
“Who was that?”
His question takes me aback. I never thought he’d care if someone else drove me home. A part of me is reeling with happiness, hoping that he gets a tiny bit jealous.
“My boss drove me home. I drank.”
The muscles of his jaw tighten, and he picks up his headphones, ready to shut me out again.
“Did you have fun with Claire?”
“I did. She’s fun.” He shrugs, and I want to slap that small smile off his face. My anger tonight surprises me. I’m not an angry person, but perhaps it’s my way of dealing with things without feeling sad and sorry for myself.
I close the door and walk to my room before throwing on a T-shirt to sleep in. As I’m lying in bed, my fingers sliding down my sex, I can’t stop myself from picturing Damon.
My angel. It’s him.
He saved me. He saved me. He saved me.
I swiftly snap out of my dreams, leaving my subconscious behind, as I tightly grip onto my bed covers.
I can’t remember the last time I had this dream—it’s been too long.
