Page 80 of Damián

What if he is with someone right now?

Fuck…I don’t like this feeling at all.

I hate this new feeling that can’t seem to leave me alone. I hate it so much I throw my phone onto the couch, and I decide to stop torturing myself.

Instead, I spend the entire rest of the day studying art history, memorizing brush strokes, pigment composites, and auction records to solidify my stupid cover.

And by nightfall, I am exhausted.

I sit down on my couch, mindless and bored, clicking through channels on the TV until there is nothing interesting left to watch…

KNOCK! KNOCK!

I flinch, instantly alert. I walk to the door, checking the security feed, and my heart stops. I open the door and see Oliver standing there, looking absolutely gorgeous.

“Oliver?” I breathe, relieved to see he is okay.

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps inside, smashing his body against mine. His arms curl tight around my neck, and he pulls my mouth down to his. I hook my arms under his thighs, lift him off the ground, and kick the door shut.

We make out desperately, lips parting, tongues tangling as I carry him blindly toward the couch.

Thank Dios I memorized the layout.

“I called you,” I groan against his mouth.

I lower him to the couch, then crawl over him, completely caging him against the cushions.

“I’m here,” Oliver whispers back. “I can’t stop thinking about you too.”

He reaches down and yanks his silk shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor.

He is so beautiful it physically hurts.

We are kissing, tasting, devouring each other, and I am so hard I can barely think straight. I pull him up, dragging him into my lap so he is straddling me. We grind together just like we did back in my car, with a breathless, desperate friction that makes my vision go white.

My hands drop to his waist, my fingers fumbling with the button of his pants—

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Oliver scrambles off my lap and runs to open the front door, to reveal an incredibly tall and sexy man with dark hair and huge arms.

“I missed you so much!” Oliver smiles, throwing his arms around the man’s neck.

“Wait,” I say, stepping forward, my chest tight with panic. “Oliver—”

The man looks at me over Oliver’s shoulder and smirks. “He is with me now. I can take care of him.”

And then Oliver leans up and starts kissing the man very passionately. Exactly the way he was just kissing me.

What the—

I jolt violently and my eyes snap open, only to find myself staring at the ceiling of my living room. The TV is still playing a movie in the background, and I am alone on the couch, covered in a cold sweat, painfully hard, and incredibly pissed off.

…It was a dream. A damn pinche nightmare.

What the hell is happening to me?

THURSDAY