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But, as always, Hen surprises me and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re both moving on; it is what it is. No need to sugarcoat things in front of me.”
I nod, unconvinced.
“I give him five minutes before he hijacks your phone, asking who I am.” His chuckle is light and happy, and I can’t help but feel the familiar ease around him.
“He won’t,” I say softly, wishing he were right. I want Damon to care. I really do. This morning’s sex session already feels a century away.
Gia picks a pizza place, and neither I nor Henrik have enough of a death wish to defy her choice. We sit at a table, and Gia grabs the menu while Henrik looks at me.
“He likes you.”
I blush.
“I got the same vibe. I think we see things differently than you do, Gem. You see him pushing you away. I saw a man who’d move mountains for you,” Gia says matter-of-factly.
“I wouldn’t gothatfar, but he definitely cares.” I listen to Henrik before my phone vibrates in my purse. I take it out, and sure enough there’s a text from Damon.
Damon:Who is he?
I debate telling him but instead choose to let him stew on my silence. I put my phone away and ask Gia about the baby stuff she bought. Henrik chips in about his work, and before I know it, it’s time to head back to the office.
I don’t feel like it. I know I’ll have to face Damon’s wrath and draft as much of the report as I can.
Once I’m back, I work on the report, and a few hours go by before Damon’s office door opens. A few clients smile politely at me as they step out. Damon waits for them to enter the elevator before signaling for me to come inside.
Stand your ground.
“Do you need anything?” I ask once inside, leaning my back against the closed door.
“That’s all you have to say?” He sounds calm, his voice low, but I can see his hardened features. He’s boiling inside.
I nod, angering him further as I bite my bottom lip.
“Is that so.” He lifts the front of my skirt and tucks it in the waistband.
Seeing him in his powerful suit, with his powerful stance, is enough to send a tremor down my legs. He eyes my sex, gripping the side of my thigh tightly.
“Unless you have something to say,sir.”
His eyes dance with mischief and something else at my words. Admiration?
“Tell me. Who is he? The man who had the audacity to be all over you in front of me.” He pinches my clit, and my back jerks in response.
“Who is she?” I stare him dead on.
He brings his lips an inch away from my mouth. “Sure you want to play this game?”
I hope defiance sparkles through my eyes like shining stars. He brings his hand to my pussy and smacks it, hard, urging a soft whimper to slip between my lips.
No one has ever done that to me. I rub myself against his hand, which entices a small tug at the corner of his lips.
“More,” I plead, shocking him.
He hadn’t expected me to want more, to want him to keep smacking me between my legs. The sting only contributes to the pleasure of my arousal, blocking off the minimal pain.
“More?”
“Damon—yes—more.”
