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Too quickly, he releases me and pulls back, sitting straighter. My face heats up in embarrassment, and I wonder if he likes to torture me for the hell of it. It’s as if he knows I’ll follow his lead no matter what. The thought alone frustrates me.
So, I ignore him.
And even though I want to walk out of that room, I keep reading as if my life depends on it. We have quite a few boxes to go through anyway.
Not even ten minutes later he asks, “Did you tell him?”
The fact that he randomly asked the question tells me he was thinking about me, about us, and that lights a glimmer of hope inside me.
I know exactly whom he’s talking about and what he’s referring to, but my mind hasn’t forgotten his rejections. I want him to know how it feels every time he draws me closer only to pull back.
“Why do you care?”
“I’m merely curious, Red.”
My name or the nickname he gave me should never leave his lips. It’s unsafe. I put down my highlighter and make eye contact with him.
“He doesn’t know everything.” Harvey doesn’t know I slept with my boss. It’s weird admitting it to him, as if I’m backstabbing Harv even more than I already am.
“I see.” His eyes seem to fire off more questions, but he doesn’t ask them. I want to ask him about Ms. Sutton, the woman who came to see him and who I assume is his ex-girlfriend. If he’s asking me questions, shouldn’t I be allowed to as well?
I don’t do it. I know the outcome—he’ll dodge them.
Instead, I ask him if he’s okay. The last time I was at his place, he was drunk out of his mind after leaving the office with Sutton. I don’t doubt for a second that the two events are related.
“What do you mean?” His brows frown as he waits for my answer.
“The last time I saw you ...”
He shrugs, clicking the tip of his pen. “People get drunk sometimes; it’s not a big deal.”
“Sure, sure.” I’m not convinced.
We dive into our work for the rest of the day and don’t interact again until we’re in the elevator, heading home.
I need to let Harvey know I’m leaving for New York in the morning. I should’ve told him, but with our fight on Saturday about Claire, I figured we needed time before I dropped this on him.
The air in the elevator feels like I’m at the highest altitude reachable. I’m focusing on the buttons displayed out in front of me when I catch Damon staring sideways.
I swallow, feeling the heat in my face.
Then he grabs my hand. “I’m sorry for what I said that night.” He’s obviously referring to the night he was drunk and ended our affair.
When I face him, he gently pushes us into the corner of the elevator. My legs are wobbly, and my sex is chanting loud and proud, telling me to get laid by this god.
His finger grazes my jaw, and I close my eyes, lust filtering his eyes as soon as I open mine again.
“There’s no need to rehash. Damon, why are you doing this?” My self-control takes a hike and leaves me to fend for myself.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, towering over me. I can smell the cinnamon-and-spice gum, smell the cologne radiating off him, traveling up my nostrils and increasing my arousal. “You’re too tempting, baby.”
Baby.I loved the word coming from his mouth a week ago. Now that he knows I’m back with Harvey and he’s in my space again, I’m angry.
“You’re only doing this because you know I’m back home with him.”
I lose the battle when he stares deeply into my eyes. “You’re right. I don’t want anyone to have you. But that doesn’t mean that I’m right for you either.”
I want Damon so bad I can’t explain it. Like there’s a magnetic pull drawing me toward him when he’s in my radius.
