Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
It’s like I can pretend the future isn’t uncertain as I hold on, as though he’s so firm, so strong, nothing can ever hurt me.
“What, Damien?”
“It’s like you said,” he goes on. “It feels so normal. But not in a bad way. Not like it steals any of the fun.”
I look at him closely for a few moments, wondering if that’s really what he was going to say. Or maybe there was something else he didn’t feel comfortable saying.
Was it about Dad?
“Do you like the music?” he asks, and I get the sense he’s hurrying the subject matter along, not wanting to linger here.
“It’s nice,” I tell him, smiling, deciding to leave it for now.
If it was anything, maybe my mind is just racing ahead again.
“I think it’s best having music without lyrics.”
“So we can hear each other talk,” he says, nodding. “Although, I would quite like to see you get carried away and start singing along to the lyrics.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not if you want your ears to keep working, you don’t.”
He chuckles, then softly reaches up and brushes hair from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear. My heart glows even warmer at the simple gesture, my core giving an insistent shiver as though telling me to seize this chance, right here, to leap at him and start our family.
“How long until dinner?” I ask, touching his hand before he takes it away.
“About ten minutes. Do you want to set the table?”
I grin, happy to move on from the darker, more anxious topics. “Are you sure you trust me with such a big responsibility?”
“I’d trust you with a whole lot more than that,” he says, with sudden seriousness in his voice, looking at me with intense eyes that keep me pinned in place.
Then he smirks it away as though he regrets putting himself out there so much.
But it’s not like I’d ever care or ever not want his attention. It’s not like there’s such a thing as going too far with him and me, at least from my position.
If he fell to one knee and proposed to me here, I’d say yes.
I’d scream yes.
But no, I wouldn’t.
I’m forgetting about Dad again.
What a terrible excuse for a daughter I’m becoming.
“The silverware drawer is there,” he says, pointing to it. “And the dining room is just down the hall. And if you want to swish those hips a little as you do it, feel free.”
The laughter comes quickly, and it’s oh-so welcome. “Swish?”
He smirks. “If you want to shake your perfect, perfect ass for me…feel free.”
I giggle as I walk to the drawer, doing my best, not sure I’m doing it right. But then Damien makes a snarling noise as though he can barely contain himself, moving forward and wrapping his arms around me.
He drives his hips forward, letting me feel his rock-hard cock, so ready for me like he always says he is when we’re texting.
“You turn me into an animal,” he breathes in my ear. “A beast, Danielle. I don’t care if that sounds cheesy as fuck. It’s true.”
“We can’t do anything,” I whisper. “Not until….”
We discuss the Dad situation.
And until I’ve told him the truth.
“I know,” his voice rumbles as he steps away, as though it’s difficult for him. “But it’s so tempting. You’re so tempting.”
I want to tell him the same in return, with a note of confidence in my voice. But there’s too much holding me back, especially the thought of his reaction if I told him the truth.
Either truth…how deeply I want to be with him and why that will be difficult for me to do.
Offering him a smile – and internally wincing when I feel my lips tremble – I grab the plates and turn away. “I better get to work.”
I feel his gaze on me as I walk down the hallway.
And then I do it, even if I feel silly.
I swish my hips.
“That’s it,” Damien says huskily from across the room.
My smile stops shaking as I leave, beaming across my face.
I never thought I could make Damien want me so badly.
But can I give him what he wants?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Damien
“So,” I say, placing my glass of water down. “Why marketing?”
We’re sitting in the dining room, the tall windows giving us a view of the city. The sun has started to set, the shadows are getting longer, and the world is becoming darker.
But the lights are turned on in here, and I’m incapable of feeling dark, grim, anything but determined when I look at Danielle.
Determined to start our life together.
Determined to take her.
Tonight, a voice howls in my mind, though the specter of Max is still hovering between us.
“Hasn’t Dad told you?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No offense, but we don’t talk about you much. Don’t get me wrong. You come up in conversation but in passing. I never thought to ask why you chose marketing. I was just happy Max’s daughter was doing well.”