Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“We were never in the bed.”
“Let’s fix that. We’ll order take out and eat in bed. Our bed, Alana.” He cups my face. “Come on, baby. Try out what it’s like to live with me, at least for tonight and tomorrow morning.”
“You do know that it’s hard to get rid of someone who lives with you, right?”
“I don’t want to get rid of you. Ever.” He caresses my hair behind my ear in a tender act that sends shivers through me. “Never.”
“And yet, you told me losing me would kill you.”
“I’m done leaving. It’s you who will leave. You want to leave now.” His tone is one part accusation and one part something that feels like defeat when he is never defeated.
“I don’t want to leave, Damion. I want you to stop pushing me away.”
He catches my hand and gives me one of his heated inspections. “You’re gorgeous, smart, compassionate, and a better person than I will ever be. I’d be a fool to push you away, Alana. I don’t want another man to touch you or sleep with you ever again. Or make breakfast with you the morning after fucking you. Or anything else, for that matter. Let’s order food and go to bed.”
I’m a ball of confusion with Damion, I am, but there is something in him tonight. I try to hear what he’s saying, what he’s really saying, but it might take morning light and clothing to allow that to happen. I nod, and he cups my face and kisses me. “I know a taco place I think you’ll love. You do love tacos.”
It’s a reminder of the familiar between us. “Tacos always sound good.”
“Then go pee, since we both know you didn’t. I’ll order and”—he points at the walk-in closet in the back of the bathroom—“grab whatever you want to wear.” He kisses me hard and fast and exits the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.
He’s giving me the moment I’d asked for because Damion gets me. I really do need it, but it wouldn’t have been good if I had it before he said all he just said. I walk into his closet, the spicy scent of him everywhere, wreaking havoc on my brain cells and body. I step to the center of the giant room, eyeing Damion’s well-organized clothing, all the expensive suits lined on one wall, his causal wear on another, and yet there is a ton of space left over. Space in which I could easily imagine all my things mingled with his, and the idea sits in my belly, feeling like it’s supposed to happen. I’m going to move in with him, the consequences be damned. I already know this, so why am I even fighting it?
I grab a shirt, pull it on, and then dig through a drawer to find a pair of his socks, suddenly eager to stop overthinking and get back to Damion. I go pee, clean up a bit, and even spray a little dollop of his cologne on, inhaling the delicious male scent. When I return to the bedroom, he’s entering the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.
“Wine?” he asks.
I nod and he pours me a glass, both of us sitting down on the bed as he grabs the remote but pauses to nuzzle my neck. “Why do you smell like me?”
I laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re all over me.”
“Yes, but that’s not it.” He eases back to look at me. “Did you put on my cologne?”
My cheeks heat and I confess, “I like it on you. I thought you might like it on me.”
He strokes hair from my face and tilts my gaze to his. “I do.” His voice is low and gravelly before he kisses me. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”
My chest tightens with emotion. “Me, too.”
He kisses me and then releases me to flip on the TV, finding a specific channel he’s hunting for, which turns out to be the Hallmark Channel. I laugh and shake my head. “I know you do not watch this.”
“I actually do every once in a while, when I’m missing the old days. It reminds me of going to your house. You and your mom always had it on.”
My heart squeezes with the idea that holds our past as close to his heart as I do. “We did,” I agree, “but I won’t subject you to watching it.”
The doorbell rings, and he hands me the remote. “Leave it on Hallmark. I’ll get the food.”
“You think it’s already here?”
“Oh yeah. The taco place is right next door.” He pushes to his feet, and crosses toward the bedroom door, the flex of his back muscles holding my attention as he exits the room. Someone is getting an impressive show when he opens the door, because Damion is a specimen.