“We definitely have a love-hate relationship.” Damon sighs, irked.
“It’s hard not to with you,” Knuckles makes a joke.
“Am I really that bad?’” Damon pretends to stab himself in the heart.
“You have your moments.” Knuckles actually cracks a smile. He’s finally warming up. It only took a week.
We all file into Damon’s hotel room. “We’re gonna have to sleep here tonight, need to protect the stash.” He slaps the duffle bag before messing with the safe.
“I didn’t plan on sleeping much tonight anyway.” I sit on his bed and lean back, flashing come-fuck-me eyes.
Knuckles grumbles, and I enjoy the rise I get out of him.
“Good thing I’m hitting the clubs tonight. Guard duty is over.”
“Yes, it is.” I sit up. “And I have your payment in my room. Can you hang out for a few minutes?”
“It’s not like I have far to go.” He motions with his huge hand to the adjoining door.
“Perfect.” I bound to my feet. “I want to grab my toothbrush, too.”
“Toothbrush? Things between us are moving so quickly.” Damon shoots me a cheeky smile.
I roll my eyes. “If it’s too much too soon, I’ll sleep in my own room,” I quip.
“That’s a negative,” Damon contests. “Your body, my bed. Only option.”
“All right, then, I’ll get my toothbrush.” I march out the door, concealing the stupidest grin on my face. I love our back and forth. I love his cocky arrogance and possessive nature and sense of humor.
Unlocking the door to my room, I grab the things I need. The envelope of cash for Knuckles, my toothbrush, and my father’s letter. I’m going to take Damon up on his offer. It’s time to find out what it says, as anxious as it makes me.
Back in Damon’s room, I place my toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, hand Knuckles his payment, and then give him a big hug. He’s not one for public displays of affection, but he humors me.
He did me a huge favor last second. I was in a bad way when I went to him, but luckily, my father knew how to keep good relations with all the wrong people.
“See you all around.” Knuckles throws up the peace sign and then heads into his room.
All that’s left are Damon and me, my toothbrush, and my father’s letter burning a hole in my back pocket.
“So, how about we get to the ‘your body, my bed’ part?” He slides his hands around my waist and pulls me close, dragging hot kisses down my neck.
“That sounds amazing, but—”
“But? There’s no buts,” Damon argues.
“There is. This one time there is.” I place my hands lightly on his chest with an insecure expression.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Damon frowns, picking up on the change in my mood immediately.
There is suddenly a lump in my throat the size of a basketball.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out the folded, crinkly envelope. It’s gone through as much as I have this week.
Damon nods his head. “I see.”
“Will you read it?” I can barely force the words out without crying. “You know I will.” He takes the envelope and leads me to the bed. We sit with our backs to the headboard, snuggled closely.
Life is funny. Before, Damon was the last person I would have ever expected to share this moment with, and now, I can’t imagine suffering through it with anyone else.
