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But the man often seems to give people something to think about. How does he manage that? When he says so little?
He’s gifted.
He sits beside me. I can’t see him because of the hood. It doesn’t last long, though. Next, he removes it and pulls my hair behind my ear.
“What do you need?” His whispers are so low, the goosebumps start on my arms and end at my legs like a domino effect. “How do I get you in my bed?” He’s touching the soft spot under my ear, and I close my eyes.
“I need... ” God, what do I need?
I don’t even know what I want anymore other than that it includes Damon. Somewhere along the way, my obsession withHarvey meddled with my addiction for Damon. Somewhere along the way, I caught feelings for the man next to me.
“Some sort of reassurance. I don’t know . . . just . . .more.”
He stops touching me.
“You know what, Gemma?” There’s an edge to the way my name leaves his lips this time. “You keep talking about more when you love another man, yet you push and push to find out about my little demons. To see if I could give myself to you... what about you?”
His face is towering over me. “Could you give yourself to me?” He pulls back to set his eyes on my face. He’s eyeing me all over, as if that’ll tell him the truth. “Could you? If I say I want more, that I’ll try, would you leave him?”
“Yes.”
Gemma!
My breath stalls.
Ohmygod—Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
I can’t believe my answer.
I didn’t think. Didn’t think at all; I just responded. No matter whom I hurt, no matter how much, every day I’m falling more and more for Damon.
He pushes me, at work, outside of it. Mentally, physically. He makes me better. He makes me look forward to later on, to tomorrow.
Gia’s right. Iamfalling for him, at a rapid rate, and I don’t think there’s any going back.
What stuns me the most isn’t my answer—it’s the greedy look in his eyes when I tell him I want to be his. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head, so I lean in for a kiss, and he accepts.
It’s phenomenal.
It’s fireworks and candles floating through the night sky.
Our mouths are warm against each other, testing the other, breaking barriers. When he pulls back, his face greeting me isthe stoic, cold, and calculated Damon I’ve come to know, especially at work.
“We should head to bed. The guest room is all set up.” He gets up and offers his hand, but I refuse it.
Is he serious right now? He’s going to send me to his guest bedroom? When all I want is to be in his bed with his arms around me?
“Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea what you want.” And his comment slaps me in the face.
Because he’s right.
My mood, my emotions, are all over the place. When I’m with Harvey, I feel for him, I love him. There’s a lot of guilt there too. Loads of it. I think it’s one of the reasons I push through.
Because I’m okay and he’s not. He could be, though. If he sought therapy, he could be happy again.
And with Damon, there’s an insanity inside my chest pulsing for him, my stomach constantly churning when he’s around.
Damon’s right. Could I do it? Sleep with him? Once, maybe twice? And then go back to Harvey?
