“Stop moving,” he mumbles.
For some reason, I obey. I stop trying to free myself, and I simply lie there.
What is it with this man that I always end up listening? Damon could ask me to rob a bank with him and I’d probably make suggestions about how we should do it.
He could ask me to kiss him, and I’d do it in a heartbeat.
That realization makes something swirl in my chest. I’m not sure what that is. I’m pretty sure I’ve recovered from my silly cold, so it’s likely not related to that. It intensifies even more when I give myself the permission to watch Damon as he sleeps. He looks relaxed like this, his expression calm and his mouth slightly parted. I let my eyes drift down, over the hard planes of his chest and to the dark trail on his lower stomach that leads down.
Some time through the night, he pulled a blanket over us. It’s thrown haphazardly over our hips, stopping me from getting a good view of his cock—a cock that I, unfortunately or not, feel I’m well-acquainted with at this point. The way the blanket tents slightly over his groin makes my throat dry up.
I want him. Again. It’s fucking ridiculous. My fingers shake with the effort to not slip my hand under the sheets and cup him, to wake him up by teasing him until he’s the one begging to have me.
Fuck. I begged. Again.
I talked big and taunted him last night, but he was right—he had me begging without even trying. It’s not my fault, though. I’ve been thinking about him since we met years ago. No amount of one-night stands afterwards ever came close. A few times, Ieven tried to give thedatingthing a shot. I broke my rules and let one or two kiss me.
It didn’t feel right. Ever. His face always popped up in my memories as if taunting me.
What does it say about me that I’ve been this hung up over a man who’s made it abundantly clear that he dislikes me? And even if he fucked me into the mattress last night, I don’t think it changed a thing.
I’m probably going to spend another two years trying to pretend I’m not wishing he’d show me what a real date was like.
Closing my eyes, I lean down and press my face against his shoulder.
Whatever. This is fine, for now. I’ll take what I can.
“Ellis.” Fingers thread into my hair. I didn’t even realize Damon was awake. “I’m getting up.”
“Okay,” I mumble. I extract myself away from him with great effort. As soon as I’m no longer pressed against him, I immediately miss his warmth. Totally not exaggerating when I say the temperature drops exponentially. Might even be the cause of me getting another cold.
Damon gives me a flat-lipped look as he swings his legs over the bed. I watch as he grabs his pants from the floor and pulls them on, though not quick enough for me to miss the fact that he definitely has a semi like I do. Smirking, I bury my face against the pillow.
We move quietly for the rest of the morning. He cleans up while I’m in the bathroom, putting away yesterday’s take-out containers. He made the bed too, as if room service wouldn’t do it for us, and it does nothing to hide our night. I could point out every spot on the sheets where we came.
“Heather was able to get both of us flights on the twenty-seventh,” he tells me. Damon’s seated on his side of the bed, chewing on something. He’s holding a slice of banana breadbetween a napkin.“Three p.m. flight for me to Anchorage, twelve p.m. flight for you back to Tampa.”
“Great.”
Not that great, really. There’s nothing but an empty apartment waiting for me back home. I could probably hit up some old friends, but they’re most likely with their families for the rest of the year. You know, like most people.
The loneliness hits me all at once again, and I look away before Damon can read my face.
Maybe he notices it though, because he asks, “Is your dad back in Florida?”
“My dad’s in the Bahamas with his new chick.”
“Oh.” He bites into his bread. “Who’s waiting for you back home, then?”
“My liquor cabinet.”
Damon’s eyebrows furrow, and he chews his food very, very slowly. “Do you want to come to Anchorage with me? My family wouldn’t mind.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “What? No! We don’t—that’s not our—”
His smile makes me snap my mouth shut. “Relax, Ellis. I won’t force you, and you don’t need to explain yourself.”
“Thanks, though.” I let out a breath and look away. “I’ll probably just catch up on work. I’d like to get approval to send Killian Schultz an offer.”
