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I feel guilty, knowing Gia’s trying to stop me, but even she can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with Damon.
It’s not too late; I can send Joey on his merry way.
But I don’t.
My feet can’t help walking one foot in front of the other, going after what I want.
Who I want.
“Hi Joey,” I say when I step into the backseat, and I’m robbed of all senses when I find Damon sitting at the opposite end. I shut the door.
“He can’t hear you.” Damon points to his ear, and when I eye Joey, I understand why. He has AirPods in.
Privacy. Privacy for our talk.
“Buckle up, beautiful.” I put on my seatbelt—thrown off my game. I thought I’d have a little while before I had to see him. To answer his questions, to feel his stare.
With him here—over six feet of lusty brown eyes enough to hypnotize anyone—it’s hard to think straight. He even looks good, really good, in a winter coat.
“What’re you doing here?” Stupid question, considering this is another one of his cars—a Lexus.
I push my hair back behind my ear, placing my purse on the side.
He shrugs, with an edge to the stare he gives me. Butterflies—they’re multiplying by the million in my stomach right now. “I wanted to ride back with you.”
Our eyes lock, yet we remain in complete silence. My hands are on the cool leather of the middle seat.
“What’s wrong?” He takes my hand in his when he asks, eyeing my simple rose tattoo with one brow lifted.
“Does it matter? If you don’t care about my feelings... you don’t want my heart, remember?” I throw back his words in his face, slipping my hand away from his, but he catches my wrist anyway.
It’s the guilt talking—the guilt. If I’m hurting Harvey, I need a purpose for doing so.
“I do care.” I mustn’t look convinced because he continues, “I shouldn’t... I can’t give you more, Gemma. But that doesn’t mean I’m not reconsideringthings.”
I want to ask him what he means. He swallows, and I’ve never seen Damon look even the tiniest bit affected, other than sexually, of course. So I don’t push him. I push Harvey all the time, and look where that has gotten us.
Not with him. Not with Damon.
I let him be.
We ride in peace, holding hands, his thumb grazing mine, sending sparks and slivers of heat and fire down my spine.
Damon brings me comfort. He makes me feel safe. Happy. Alive.
The reckless girl in me burns at the fuel he provides.
I want more and more.
That’s how it’s always been for me though, hasn’t it? The things that are wrong for me feel the most right deep inside my soul. Because it’s tainted, its tarnished, it’s a little bit pink and a little bit black.
Damon hands me a small glass of bourbon and takes a sip of his own.
“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, sitting next to me.
I sip on the hard liquor, hoping to gain some reinforcement. He pulls a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch like a lightning bolt. I don’t want to tell him about Harv.
“Does he know you’re here?” I don’t know how he isn’t jealous. If Damon were to have a girlfriend, it’d kill me.
