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His chuckling hits me right in the center of my core. “The baby wasn’t mine.”
What?
I hadn’t read about a baby in her diary. When his eyes finally dart to mine, he answers my silent question. “There’s another journal, but you won’t read that one.”
I was right. The purple journal is hers too.
“Okay,” I murmur.
“It’s not okay. None of this is okay.” He drops to the floor on bent knees.
“Did you ... did you know she was pregnant?”
When his eyes leave the safety of his arms, I see the pain in them. “Sutton told me. The first time she came to the office and we left together ... that’s when she told me. But as it turns out, Palmer lost the baby, and it wasn’t mine.”
That was the weeknight he was drunk. The night he ended our affair.
I move over to sit on my knees next to him, my hands tucked underneath to make sure I don’t touch him.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” He rubs his eyes. “You probably wanted me to find out, didn’t you? To tarnish my memory of her.” I shake my head, but he grabs my arm, hauling me into his lap. “Well, mission accomplished, Gemma,” he whispers in my ear. “Why did you come? You want to get fucked?” His cruelty taints each word coming out of his mouth.
“Damon, stop.”
“Stop what? You don’t want me to finger you?” In the swiftest of motions, he pushes my skirt up and moves my thong aside, doing just that. “How are you always wet for me, baby?” He closes his eyes like he’s taking it in.
When he presses on my clit, a whimper passes through my lips, rumbling in Damon’s mouth when he kisses me.
Finally.
All week I’ve been thinking of being in his arms, of experiencing the magic through his kiss.
“You fucked with my memories of her,” Damon says in my ear right as I’m about to reach my peak. “I can fuck you, but you’ll never have my trust again.”
The darkness of his words chills me. I push away from him, stopping mid-orgasm.
“You don’t have to be disrespectful.”
“You shouldn’t have gone through my shit,” he says through gritted teeth.
I hate that he cares this much for her still. He’ll never let her go the way I can let Harvey go. “Just last week you asked me to move in with you! Did you even mean it?” I kneel back down, my hands holding his arm, seeking an answer. “Damon, answer me.” I cradle his cheeks in my hand.
“Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter. Gemma.”
“Yes, it does—”
“I’msomad at you.”
“That’s okay,” I whisper. “I deserve it.”
When he stays silent, I tell him, “She spoke of you like you were a monster.”
It’s like I punched him in the stomach. His brow arches, his lips thin, and his jaw looks ready to break in half.
I listen to the smooth timbre of his voice as his eyes widen with his reply. “And I tried to be the nice guy with her.” He chuckles, shaking his head.
Suddenly my back hits the ground as he mounts me, our bodies facing the fireplace.
