Chapter 6

Laura

The lights stayed off.

His hand was still on my wrist. His thumb still moving. Small circles on my skin like he was memorizing the feel of me.

I could not see his face. Just the shape of him. Just his breath on my cheek.

"We should not," he said.

His voice was low. Rough. Like he was trying to convince himself.

"No," I whispered. "We should not."

Neither of us moved.

His other hand found my waist. His fingers spread across my hip. Pulling me closer. Just an inch. Just enough.

"Damon."

"Tell me to stop."

I did not.

His hand slid up my back. Slow. Deliberate. His palm was warm through my shirt.

I shivered.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No."

"Then why are you shaking."

"Because you are touching me."

He made a sound. Low. Deep. Like a growl but not. Like something he had been holding back for too long.

"Laura. I am going to kiss you now."

Not a question. Not a request. A statement.

"Okay," I said.

He waited. One second. Two. Giving me time to change my mind.

I did not.

---

His mouth found mine in the dark.

Not gentle. Not soft. He kissed me like he had been starving. Like I was the first meal he had allowed himself in years.

His hand fisted in my hair. Tilted my head back. His tongue swept into my mouth and I gasped.

He swallowed the sound.

I grabbed his shirt. Pulled him closer. I could not get close enough. His chest against mine. His hips pressing into my stomach. He was hard. I felt him. Through his jeans. Through everything.

"Fuck," he muttered against my lips.

I had never heard him swear before.

He walked me backward. My back hit the wall. His body pressed against mine. His hands were everywhere. My hips. My thighs. My waist.

He pulled back just enough to breathe.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that."

"Then do it again."

He kissed me harder. Deeper. His hand slid under my shirt. His palm flat against my stomach. Moving up. Slow.

I moaned.

He stopped.

"Too much?" His voice was wrecked.

"No. Do not stop."

His fingers brushed the bottom of my bra.

"This?" he asked.

"Please."

He covered my breast with his hand. His thumb found my nipple through the fabric. Circled it. Once. Twice.

I arched into him. My head hit the wall. I did not care.

"You are so responsive," he said. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No."

"Then they were blind."

He lowered his mouth to my neck. Bit down. Not hard. Just enough to make me gasp.

"I want to leave marks on you," he said. "Everywhere. So everyone knows."

"My boyfriend is your son."

"I know."

"This is insane."

"I know."

"We should stop."

"I know."

He did not stop. Neither did I.

---

His hands slid down to the waistband of my jeans. Fumbled with the button. Impatient. Desperate.

"Tell me," he said.

"Tell you what."

"Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me. Because if we do this, there is no going back. I will not be able to let you go."

I looked at him. Even in the dark, I could see his eyes. Piercing. Desperate. Waiting.

"I have wanted you since the fountain," I said. "Since the first time I saw you. I have dreamed about you. Woke up wet and ashamed and wanting more. I have compared every man to you and none of them came close. Not even your son."

He groaned. Dropped his forehead to mine.

"Laura."

"I am yours," I said. "I have been yours. I just did not know it yet."

He kissed me again. Slower this time. Like we had all the time in the world.

Then he pulled back.

"Not here."

"What?"

"Not against a wall in the dark like we are hiding. When I take you, I want to see your face. I want you to see mine. I want to do this right."

He took my hand. Led me through the dark house. Up the stairs. Down a hallway.

His bedroom.

I had never been in here before. Never even imagined it.

The moonlight came through the window. Enough to see. His bed was huge. Dark sheets. Messy. Like he had been lying here thinking about things he should not be thinking about.

He stopped at the edge of the bed. Turned to face me.

"Last chance," he said.

I pulled my shirt over my head.

His eyes dropped to my chest. My bra was black. Lace. The one I wore when I wanted to feel pretty.

"Jesus, Laura."

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to touch me?"

He moved.

---

His hands were on me. Everywhere. My back. My ribs. The curve of my waist. He unhooked my bra like he had done it a thousand times. Let it fall.

His mouth was on my breast before I could breathe.

I cried out. My fingers tangled in his hair. He sucked. Bit. Licked. His hand was on the other side. Rolling my nipple between his fingers.

I was going to come apart before he even touched me.

"Damon. Please."

"Please what."

"I need you."

"You have me."

He lowered me onto the bed. Lay me down like I was something precious. Then he stood at the edge. Looking at me.

"You are beautiful."

"You are not so bad yourself."

He laughed. A real laugh. I had never heard him laugh before.

Then he pulled his sweater over his head.

My mouth went dry.

His chest was broad. Muscles I did not know existed. A trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans. And scars. A few. Old. Faded.

"What happened?" I asked.

"The past. Do not worry about it."

He climbed onto the bed. Over me. His body hovered above mine. Not touching. Just there.

"I am going to make you forget every man who came before me," he said.

"That is a big promise."

"I keep my promises."

---

He kissed me again. Deep. Slow. His hands explored my body like he was memorizing it. Every curve. Every scar. Every place that made me gasp.

When his fingers slid into my jeans, I held my breath.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay."

He unbuttoned my jeans. Pulled down the zipper. Slid his hand inside.

I was wet. Soaked. Embarrassingly wet.

He groaned when he felt it.

"This is what I do to you?"

"You have no idea."

He pushed my jeans down. My underwear followed. I was bare beneath him. Completely bare.

He sat back. Looked at me.

"Perfect," he said. "Absolutely perfect."

Then he lowered his mouth between my legs.

---

I screamed.

His tongue was on me. Inside me. Everywhere. His hands held my hips down. I could not move. Did not want to.

"Please. Damon. Please."

He looked up at me. His mouth was wet. His eyes were dark.

"Please what."

"I need—"

"What do you need, Laura."

"You. Inside me."

He kissed my inner thigh. Bit down gently.

"Not yet."

"Why not."

"Because I am not done tasting you."

---

He lowered his mouth again. I lost track of time. Of everything. There was only him. His tongue. His hands. The sounds I was making.

When I finally came, it was like breaking apart. Like falling. Like something inside me that had been wound too tight finally snapped.

I cried out his name. He held me through it. Did not stop until I was limp.

He crawled up my body. Kissed my neck. My jaw. My lips.

"Now," he said. "Now I am going to be inside you."

I felt him at my entrance. Hard. Ready.

"Look at me," he said.

I did.

He pushed inside.