4. TRAPPED

Samantha was a restless wreck. As she carried drinks back and forth across the lounge, she could feel Damon’s heavy, unrelenting gaze tracking her every move. He wouldn't look away, and the intense scrutiny made her heart hammer wildly in her chest. She was only grateful that he hadn’t tried to approach her yet.

She tried her best to pretend he wasn't there. But Damon had been sitting at the bar for nearly three hours, slowly nursing his drinks while those dark eyes followed her. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

The suffocating tension was driving her crazy.

Slipping over to a coworker, Samantha muttered a quick excuse about needing the restroom. She desperately needed a moment to breathe and calm her racing pulse.

The second she stepped inside the empty bathroom, she let out a long, ragged exhale. She closed the door, gripped the edges of the porcelain sink, and stared at her pale, weary reflection in the mirror. She looked completely exhausted, even though it was a relatively slow Monday night.

"Just relax, Samantha. Just ignore him," she whispered, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. "The night will be over soon. Just get through your shift. You're going to be fine."

She closed her eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. But her eyelids snapped open at the sharp, familiar squeak of the restroom door swinging inward. Spinning around, her stomach dropped as the one man she was desperately trying to avoid stepped inside.

"Hi, Samantha. Nice to see you again," Damon murmured, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

Any trace of calm evaporated. Her heart battered against her ribs as she stared at him in sheer disbelief.

"W-what are you doing in here?" she stammered, her voice shaking.

Damon closed the door behind him and took a slow, deliberate step forward. Samantha subconsciously backed up, her hips pressing against the edge of the sink.

He didn't stop until he was standing a mere breath away. His burning gaze traveled slowly from her head down to her shoes, taking his time. When his eyes finally locked back onto hers, Samantha’s throat went completely dry. She swallowed hard, trapped by his towering frame and wicked grin.

"How could you just slip away like that?" Damon asked, his voice low and smooth. "I fully expected to wake up with you in my arms, but you disappeared without a single word."

He leaned in closer. The rich, clean scent of his masculine cologne immediately invaded her senses, making her dizzy. His eyes dropped from her face to her chest. Even though she was fully dressed in her waitress uniform, the heat of his gaze made her feel entirely exposed, as if he could see right through the fabric.

But then, he already knew exactly what lay beneath it. He had tasted every inch of her.

Samantha instantly cursed herself. 'Don't think about that. Do not go there.'

A low, amused chuckle cut through her panic. Samantha’s eyes snapped back to his face.

"I bet you're remembering something dirty right now," Damon teased, watching the telltale flush creep up her neck.

She tried to take another step back, but her spine was already pinned flat against the cold sink.

Damon's smirk widened at her trapped state. "Why are you running from me now? Last night, you were holding onto me so tight, acting like you never wanted to let go—"

"Shut up!" Samantha hissed, cutting him off. She glared at him through gritted teeth. "What do you want from me, Damon? You already got what you wanted last night, so just leave me alone!"

Instead of backing off, Damon stepped flush against her. Samantha gasped as their bodies collided. Because of his height, he had to tilt his head down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered, "What if I told you one night isn't nearly enough?"

A violent wave of goosebumps raced down her arms. Her heart rate tripled.

She forced herself to breathe, desperately trying to hide how easily he could shake her resolve. Gathering every ounce of strength she had left, she placed her palms against his broad chest and shoved him with all her might.

Damon stumbled back a single step, but the small distance did nothing to erase his smug, mocking grin. It infuriated her. Her blood boiled as she stared into his dark, amused eyes. She couldn't believe she had actually let this arrogant bastard touch her.

'Damn you, Jack Daniels,' she thought bitterly.

"You need to leave right now, or I'm calling security to throw you out," she threatened, forcing absolute conviction into her voice.

Damon simply shook his head, entirely unbothered. "Do you honestly think that scares me? Go ahead. Call them."

His gaze dropped to her mouth, his tongue slowly darting out to wet his lower lip. "Sweetheart, your little threats don't mean a thing to me. Frankly, I don't give a damn. I could easily tell the guards exactly what we did in that hotel room. Or better yet, I could tell your precious boyfriend. I’m sure Alfred would love to hear all the details."

Samantha’s hands curled into tight fists. "Don't you dare," she growled.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I'm capable of," Damon smirked, closing the distance between them once more. "I know everything about you, Samantha. Your parents, their careers, your friends... and your darling Alfred. Honestly, I could probably become best friends with him if I wanted to."

"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice cracking.

"What if I say I want you? What if it's your body I can't get out of my head? What are you going to do about that, Samantha?"