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“Green looks good on you.”
“Everything looks good on you, Damon,” I whisper.
I see the tic of his jaw as he stares at the wall. When he greets me with his beautiful eyes again, I let him feed me a cucumber.
“Why can’t it always be like this? Why can’t you keep feeding me and fucking me? Why not accept howgoodthis is?” I ask.
“I would if I could.” Uncertainty and worry taint his features with each word.
“Because I want more?”
“I’m not doing this with you again.” He grabs a grape and eats it.
Too bad—I’m not finished with him yet.
He didn’t explain anything to me when he pushed me away. He might say things, but they don’t necessarily match his actions.
When I mount his lap to straddle him, he doesn’t waste time before gripping my ass through my ripped black jeans. His eyes, though, are devoid of any emotion. He refuses to look at me, as if opening up to me is a sentence to hell.
“Look at me.” He ignores me, so I bring my hands over the bottom half of his face, peppered with a five-o’clock shadow. “Tell me you don’t want more with me. Tell me and I’ll leave you be, I swear.”
I can almostseethe depth of his feelings pouring out when we finally make eye contact.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Damon, I want to know.”
“What would it change? You went back to him.” He wraps one hand around my neck and leans my body against him, bringing our lips a few inches apart. “Days later.”
“I’m leaving him.”
A scoff ensues. “You’ll never let go of him. And you shouldn’t ... not for me.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper, feeling his hands move up to my hips.
“Don’t act stupid. He knows I fucked you. By this weekend, he’ll have you staying with him and quitting your job.”
Damon’s right. Harvey wants me to quit. But I need my job to pay off debts, and I love my job, and I’m not ready or willing to let go of Damon. And that tells me I need to let go of Harv.
I might take my dad up on his offer and move back home until he’s back from Seattle. Then I can decide my next step.
But then who will move in with Harv? Claire? Henrik?
When he slips one hand under my black, washed-out, vintage T-shirt, I’m aching to the point of pain. I want Damon badly. I can’t remember ever wanting something more, other than my own motorcycle, which I bought for myself at nineteen, or for Harvey to get well.
“Answer the question, Damon. Do you have feelings for me?” The words sound silly coming out of my mouth. And when his thumb ravishes my lips with his other hand, I hate myself for getting tangled in the Damon web all over again.
His sensuality never happens quickly. I have time to pull back, to run away from him before he devours me. His sucking and nipping happens slowly, building momentum. I feel his mouth exude warmth at the touch of his lips, tantalizing myentire body, sending it through a ring of fire, straight into an inferno I know I can never escape.
“What do you think? Do you think I have feelings for you?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in a mocking manner.
I’m not ready to tell him that I’ve fallen for him. He doesn’t have to know that I’d never allow myself to be in this predicament unless I wasn’t already buried far below, reaching the bottommost pit of hell to feel even an ounce of love that he could give me.
So, I settle for the wordfeelingsinstead of what I really want to ask, because I know he doesn’t love me.
When I shrug, he drops his thumb from my lips, using the hand that’s underneath my shirt to tease my stomach on its way up to my breasts. He finds what he’s looking for and toys with my nipple piercing, using his other hand to bring me even closer to him.
I moan when he pulls and twists and flicks my nipple ring, my mouth reaching closer to his. “Tell me, Damon.” I’m desperate—my sex is basking in Damon’s proximity.
