I swallow, then force myself to go on. “In the theater—when I bolted—it was because I was scared.”
His brow furrows. “Of me?”
“Yes. No. Sort of.” My hands are resting on his chest, and I clutch his T-shirt. “Of your reaction. Of the way you’ll see me once you know the truth.”
I see a flicker of concern in his eyes, but it passes quickly. “There is no ‘way,’ ” he says. “I see you, Nikki. And I want what I see.”
“I hope so.” I push away his hand that is on my skirt. Then I take over, pulling the material slowly up my leg. When the very edges of my scars are revealed, I close my eyes, but I keep tugging, all the way up so that I’m fully exposed—my thighs, my hips, everything. Even the newest mark, still red and raw.
“Oh, sweetheart.” I hear the pain in his voice. But I don’t hear disgust, and that gives me hope. I open my eyes and see only compassion on his face. “You thought I’d turn from you? That I wouldn’t want to touch you?”
I turn my face away, ashamed. He gently cups my chin and forces me to look at him. “No,” he says. “No. Everyone has scars, baby. Everyone. Yours are just the kind you can see.”
I want to believe that he means that, but I have to know he understands. “I’m not strong, Damien. Hell, I’m a mess. Don’t you understand what you’re looking at?”
“You cut.” The words are flat. Matter-of-fact. “And you think that makes you weak.”
“I am.”
“Oh, Nikki, no. Don’t you get it? Everyone breaks a little sometimes. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you wounded. And I will always be there to help you heal.”
His words reverberate through me. So warm. So familiar. “You really mean that.” It’s a statement, not a question, and in that moment I have never felt more safe or more loved in my life. I’ve only known this man for a few days, and yet I know him. He’s part of me. He’s my heart and my soul.
He’s exceptional.
And I know without a doubt that he is mine.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
“Sweetheart, I intend to do a lot more than kiss you.”
I laugh. “Oh, dear god, I hope so.”
I lean in, not wanting to wait a moment longer, and capture his mouth with my own. The kiss is hot and crazed. I taste him. I taste blood. I want to consume and be consumed. I am wild and full of need. Most of all I need him. “Please,” I beg, breaking away just long enough to speak. “Now, Damien. I need you inside me now.”
He makes a feral sound, then reaches down to unbutton his jeans and open his fly. He lifts me up, just long enough to free himself, then settles me back in his lap, so that the silk of my panties rubs his cock, and I’m so wet and so turned on that I think I will come simply from the raw intimacy of our bodies grinding together.
Thankfully, he has a condom in his back pocket, and he rips the packet open and puts it on. I rise onto my knees and start to move so that I can take off the damn panties, but he just murmurs, “no,” then tugs the crotch aside before settling me back on his cock. He meets my eyes, and I nod, and he puts his hands on my hips and guides me down. I arch back, my hands clinging to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure of this man filling me. Joining with me.
“Kiss me,” he demands, and I do, my mouth as open to him as my body. My heart and soul open to him as well.
Harder and deeper he thrusts inside me, and I’m so close, the wonderful explosion building and climbing, at least as high as this jet in which we are soaring. I am so on edge that I can’t take it anymore. “Now,” Damien growls. “Now, baby,” and I explode, my body contracting tight around him, and taking him over with me.
The orgasm seems to last for hours, a cacophony of shooting stars and vibrant electricity, after which I fall helpless against him, clinging tight as he holds me and strokes my still-clothed back.
When I can breathe again, I pull away so that I can see his face, our bodies still joined. And it feels more than right. It feels perfect.
“We still have several hours in this plane,” he murmurs, and I feel his cock harden again inside me. “I want more, Nikki. Where you’re concerned, I’m insatiable.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, my pulse tripping.
“And, Nikki?” His mouth quirks in the sexiest of smiles. “This time we’re taking it slow. Very, very slow.”
“Why don’t we take forever?” I ask, and I see the answering fire in his eyes. I see so much more, too.
I see our future.
And it is wonderful.
Chapter 10
“Merry Christmas, beautiful.”
I’m still in that soft place between sleep and wakefulness, but I smile at the brush of Damien’s lips against my ear and the low murmur of his voice rumbling through me.
Then the oddity of what he’s saying strikes me. Merry Christmas? Not Happy New Year?
And why am I in a bed? For that matter, why don’t I feel the vibration from the jet?
Slowly, I sit up, then look around, blinking and confused. It’s our bedroom in the Lake Arrowhead house. And there’s Damien sitting on the bed next to me, his expression so full of tenderness it makes me want to cry.
“Damien,” I begin, then don’t know what to say. “Damien, I—”
He shakes his head, then gently presses his fingertip to my lips. “I’m sorry. I should have said it last night, but I wanted you to sleep.”
“Sorry?”
“For buying the condo. I shouldn’t have.”