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“Well, you must be good at your job if Mr. Dreygon’s kept you on.” Her husband laughs and eyes Damon, who remains stoic.
“I hope so.” I look over at Julia to avoid eyeing the man who scarred my heart.
“She is. We’re grateful to have her on our team,” she chimes in.
Dinner is great; I barely say a word as I savor each bite. The waiter comes back to fill my wineglass, asking if I’d like more.
“I think you’ve had enough,” Damon warns at the same time as I nod to the waiter for more.
“Damon, let her be. I’ll have some more wine myself. You don’t mind, now, do you?” Julia asks, testing him.
He feigns indifference, his hand weaving through that thick hair of his. “As long as I don’t have to carry both of you back to your rooms.”
“I think we’ll manage, won’t we?” She winks at me. I give her a small smile and drink, enjoying the taste and sensation it gives me.
I’m past the point of being tipsy.
During dessert, more speakers take the stage, and I can’t retain anything they’re saying. I drunk text Gia and Layla in a group chat while Damon looks at me like he wants to spank me.
Eventually, people mingle and the couple at our table invite everyone out for drinks. Julia accepts, and after Damon declines their invitation, she tells Damon and me to head back to the hotel without her.
I can see why he and Julia work well together. She doesn’t put up with his moodiness.
As soon as I straighten up from my chair, I feel unsteady. The stern look Damon gives me should run shivers of fear down my spine instead of the shivers of lust it carries.
We catch a cab, and I settle in the middle seat, right next to him. For someone who seemed pissed at me two minutes ago, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around me and pull me closer.
I feel so free.Free, free, free.And good.Anddrunk.
I feel as if I could ask him anything. I coulddoanything.
I lean my head on his shoulder, breathing in his cologne, letting it intoxicate me. Instinctively, I place my leg over his lap before my hand grips the material of his coat as I kiss his neck.
“Gemma . . .”
He’s torn. Ready to fuck me and ready to push me away all at once. My sex is melting by the second as I smell him, as I kiss his warm skin.
I’m all over the place for this man—the booze an excuse to let me do what I desperately wish I could otherwise do—without any shame or guilt.
I palm his cheek, hoping he’ll look at me. “I’m not drunk, just tipsy.”
“I don’t care.”
We get to the hotel and reach our rooms—they’re all on the same floor. Julia’s at the end of the hall, while Damon and I are next to each other.
I’m fumbling with my purse, looking for the key card, when Damon grabs it for me and pushes the door open.
“Good night,” he says simply.
I pull on his hand, leading him inside, closing the door with my back against it. His stare fosters goose bumps all over my arms, especially when he looks at me like he wants to kiss me and yell at me simultaneously.
“Aren’t you going to tuck me in?” I raise my chin in defiance. I check my phone for the time before chucking it on the bed. “It’s only ten.”
He grabs onto his hair while his other hand slips inside his pocket, the debate crushing his brain cells.
I love Damon in a black suit, with his wrinkle-free, crisp white shirts.
I tug on the blush coat I’m wearing while admiring the view of this beautiful specimen in front of me. He takes pity on me when I struggle to take it off and twirls his finger for me to spin around. The sleeves slip past my arms before he drapes it over the bed.
