I created a mess. I truly did. This past week hasn’t changed the fact I harbor a huge secret. One that’ll hurt him if he finds out. I thought I was strong enough to keep myself away. To sever the ties and let him go freely, selflessly.
But I’m not selfless. I’m greedy. So fucking selfish.
And so I say, with unwavering conviction and honesty, “I love you, Damon. I don’t want you to leave. Not now. Not ever.”
“What,” he grunts out, his hands clenching into fists as he remains turned away from me, “did you just say?”
“I love you, Damon Cavanaugh, and I don’t want you to leave,” I repeat myself, my heart hammering against my bruised ribs. “I want you to stay. I want you, Damon. I-I told you there was a reason that I left. And that reason hasn’t changed. But… But if you’re okay with never asking me that reason, never prying, and never holding it against me, then I’d like for you to stay.” I take a deep, stabilizing breath as I dare utter the next words. “Stay with me, Damon. Stay with me…andQuin.” I swallow, my inside churning with forbidden anxiety. “We can all be together, Damon. The three of us.”
The next several seconds feel like a goddamn millennium, and all I can do is trust Quinton’s word. Trust that they both love me. Trust that love is enough. Trust that these two men—my men—are willing to own a piece of me, and I, all of them.
“You love me?” he finally asks, wolfish and rough.
I wish he’d turn around. I wish he’d look at me.
“Yes.”
“And you,” His voice strains. “And you lovehim?”
“Yes.”
And then it happens. Slowly, so agonizingly slow. He turns around, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes, those dark, decadent eyes, finally lock with mine and inside them, I see the fire that I’ve so desperately craved since the moment he burned me.
“We have a problem, Miss Jones,” Damon rasps, striding forward, his steps purposeful and taunting. He stops beside me, towering over me as he cocks his head, his gaze dancing across my blanketed body. “Do you know what that problem is?”
I swallow, voice croaky and caught. “No...”
“The problem is…” He arches down, the heat from his body damn near causing me to sweat. His lips feather against my ear, tickling me, forcing my spine to squirm as he whispers, “I don’t think you could handle both of us, Miss Jones.” His tongue flicks against my earlobe, and I swallow a whimper, my core buzzing with want. “I’m afraid we might wreck you.”
“I guess…” The words get stuck in my throat as my skin flushes at the thought, at all the devious, delicious things we could do together. “I guess we’ll never know until we try.”
“Finally,” Quin says, and Damon pulls away from me as we both snap our heads toward the door. Quin smirks at us with a gleam of amusement. “I was worried you two might never make up.” His gaze flicks up, and there’s an unspoken understanding in the tiny nod he gives Damon. “We good, Cavanaugh?”
“We will be,” Damon says, mirroring Quin’s knowing smirk. “Once we establish the rules.”
I blink. “Rules?”
They both let out a soft laugh, and Quin tilts his head, pouting as he says, “There are always rules when we share, littleEmery.” He glances at Damon. “And let’s pray that no one breaks them this time.”
Damon’s jaw ticks. “Yes, let’s pray.”
THE SAFE HOUSE
QUINTON
“Are we there yet?”Emery whines from the back seat of the SUV as Damon takes yet another turn down an isolated road through the Colorado mountainsides.
My suggestion to stay in Europe was outvoted, not only by Emery and Damon but by Vivienne as well. Her contacts at the FBI deemed America to be a safer place to ride out this nightmare. I sure hope they were all correct.
“Almost there,” Damon replies, focused on the winding backroads.
He rolls his neck, fatigued, as he shifts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat beside me. We decided driving would be more strategic than flying or taking a chopper. Less chances of being tracked. But we’ve been driving for what feels like days. He’s exhausted. She’s exhausted. And I’m ready for solid ground.
Emery grumbles, crossing her arms like a grumpy child. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Damon and I exchange sighs.
“We've already stopped four times, darling. We're almost there,” I assure her. “A few more minutes.”
