by Wyatt, Dani
“Guess the cat got your tongue.” She says finally, and I realize I never answered her last flirtatious question. It hardly seems relevant now. The only thing with any meaning is what’s going to happen next.
“It’s not the cat that’s going to get my tongue,” I growl.
Chapter Three
Damon
“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” I gather a strand of her hair between my fingers, bringing it forward to draw a deep breath of that scent, letting it make my head spin all over again. “Or should I just call you Songbird? Your voice is enchanting.”
“Doralee.” She pauses, pressing her lips together for a moment, then, “Hinson.” She bobs her head back and forth, squishing up her perfect button nose, then puts the two together. “Doralee Hinson.”
It’s the most beautiful, perfect name, and the only problem I have with it is it doesn’t have my last name attached to it. There’s no part of her that isn’t sexy; from her voice, her hair, her smile, the way she’s sassy and sweet at the same time. Even her hands, tiny and almost childlike, fluttering around, trying to find their way...which in a way it feels like she is trying to do as well.
That thought paralyzes me. I wonder if she’s one of the models with the agency, if she’s gone out into the world with them—or anywhere, for that matter—without me. I want to be the force that separates her from all the horror and sadness of this world, to filter it all through me so she knows only joy and laughter and peace.
“Who are you?” She demands, and I hold back the chuckle at the idea she’s heard my thoughts. She didn’t ask for my name, she asked who I am, and until this moment I can assure you I didn’t know the answer to that question. But looking into those pools of blue, eyelashes fluttering, for the first time in my life I know who I am.
I am and will be her everything. It is my purpose. And if it takes a lifetime, I will give her everything she deserves in this world and more.
“I’m Damon Lassiter.” I answer, and she considers the name for a moment, then smiles.
“Oh. You’re that real estate guy. I think you own the building where I live.”
That real estate guy.
She knows who I am, but I can tell it doesn’t impress her and that only makes me want her more.
“Maybe.” I answer and the thought that I own where she sleeps, where she changes her clothes, takes a bath...touches herself...pushes me to lose the last bit of restraint I’ve been clinging to.
She gasps as my lips brush hers. Her sweet, warm breath spreading through me like a sweet poison, and I know from this moment on I won’t live without her. I need her to feel the same need I feel right now. The urgency, the demanding throb that tells me I will require her in my life from this moment forward.
My hands wind upward into her silky hair, my fingertips driving down until she whimpers, but I cannot stop.
Her plump lips open to my rooting tongue and her flavor silences my mind, calming my spirit in a way I don’t ever remember before. This girl is a balm to my heart and soul, and the peace I feel in this moment stuns me into silence.
Then suddenly she withdraws, the backs of her fingers pressing into her lips, and there’s a distrust in her eyes that feels like a knife in my gut. Her hands that never seem to find a place to rest move through her hair and over her cheeks until I snatch them into mine and lower my eyes to hers.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes waver for a moment, then pin to mine with that same determination I saw in them earlier. “You’re here with a woman. I saw you kissing her. Cheating is deplorable and I won’t be a part of it. I’m sorry, I got caught up. You are so...dashing.” She draws a breath as she licks her lips. “And there was this...thing I felt, when I looked at you. Like I’d miss you if you went away...” She shakes her head as if trying to drive the thoughts away, then steels her gaze and delivers her death blow. “I’m not some side chick, so I won’t be kissing you anymore. You can let me go now.”
When I got out of bed this morning, this was not anywhere on my radar. Now, here I am with this barely legal raven-haired seductress, nearly ready to put a fucking ring on her finger so she knows she will never be anything close to a side chick for me.
“Yes, that was my date. A set up. I’m not with her. I won’t be with her. I don’t have a girlfriend, wife or a friend with benefits. It’s been so long, I can’t remember that far back. Work is my life, Songbird. Or it was. I think I have a new obsession now.”
She gives me a glare. “You ditched your date? That’s not cool. You should at least let her know she’s not your date anymore, and make sure she gets home safely.”
I’m stunned into silence. When was the last time someone gave me real honesty? Well, besides my secretary Margaret, nobody in a long fucking time. Now, this barely eighteen stunner is giving me a lesson in chivalry.
“You’re right.” I nod, pressing my lips together. “I don’t think she gives a shit about me...well, maybe just to see if she can land the unlandable. But here’s the deal, you wait right here. One minute, no longer. I’ll go take care of it like a gentleman. Deal?”
She cocks her head to the side and tightens her lips as she considers what I’ve said. But I’m not going anywhere until she agrees, and I see the realization of that fact dawn on her face.
“Fine.” She says. “One minute. I don’t know why, but there’s something about you. I know I’m going to miss you even for those sixty seconds, Damon Lassiter.”
My heart nearly beats from my chest as I lean down and press my lips to her forehead, breathing her in like I’m about to go underwater and need her inside me in order to make it there and back.
I’m out of the ballroom and taking care of business as kindly as possible. Weird thing is, I actually do give a shit. A couple hours ago, I would have dumped Laney and not had a second thought about it, but Doralee has made me see the world in a different light. I arrange for a car for her, and let her know I’m sorry but I’ve got a pressing situation that requires my attention for the rest of the evening. She looks disappointed at first, but when I open my wallet and shove all the cash inside into her hand as a consolation prize, she gives me a little half smile, shaking her head as she takes it and walks away.
After that, I’m racing back down the hall and into the ballroom, to find Doralee sitting quietly, counting to herself as she taps a single key on the piano with each second she counts. “Fifty-five. Fifty-six—” She stops and smiles, still leaning against the baby grand where I left her, looking as enticing as ever.
I don’t waste any time or words. I kiss her hard and her tongue is sweet and silky against mine as my hands drop to her ass, hoisting her in one easy motion onto the piano.
Growling into our kiss, I shove her dress up her thighs, feeling the softness of her skin as I rut my hips between her legs, pulling her to the edge of the piano and letting her feel what she’s doing to me.
My cock grows as the heat between her legs warms my pulsing length, and I feel her moan into our kiss as I move our bodies together, nearly cumming in my pants at the knowledge there are only a few layers of fabric between us.
I break our kiss, watching her eyes as I grind my cock into her hot pussy, but I can’t stand it any longer.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this? Has anyone ever touched you, or kissed you, or—”
She shakes her head, and the panic that gripped my throat only a moment ago is doused by a wave of relief that nearly buckles my knees.
Her hands come to my cheeks and I swear she’s looking so deep inside of me she’s finding things I didn’t even know were there. Seeing things I didn’t know I wanted until tonight.
Until Doralee.
“You’re confused.” She bites her bottom lip as I swallow, trying to gather some control. “I’m sorry, am I confusing you?”
I shake my head. Then nod, and now it’s her that looks confused.
“Yes. And No.” I draw a breath. “I’m more sure about things than I have been i
n a long time, but at the same time, I can’t believe this is real. That you’re real. It all feels like a dream. Are we dreaming, Doralee Hinson? Are you just a dream?”
She pulls a shoulder upward on a half shrug. “Maybe. You never know, life might all be a dream. Maybe none of this is real.”
“Then I never want to wake up.” Music floats down the hallway and I want to feel her move against me. “Let me help you down, I want to dance with you. Just the two of us, alone here.”
As I place her feet back on the ground, her hand flies out to grab the edge of the piano and her eyes flutter, her body looking like it’s wilting.
“What’s wrong?” I dart my hands forward, catching her around the waist and I’m immediately angry again. I can feel her bones, the jagged hardness pressing into my palms, and I see close up how her collarbones and sternum show through her perfect, smooth skin.
“I’m sorry.” Her other hand grips my arm like she’s falling, and I want to save her from anything and everything. “I’m just a little lightheaded.”
I know this industry. I’ve been around models and actresses and women in general, who do the most diabolical things to their bodies under the guise of beauty.
“Did you get something to eat from the buffet?”
She shakes her head harder than is necessary, fear covering her face, and I know already what she needs.
“Hold on.” I slip one hand from her waist, retrieving my phone from my pocket, and dial one of my security detail that are milling with the people at the party. “I want the waitstaff to bring a sampling of everything on the buffet line. And some water, orange juice, apple juice... I want it right fucking now, in the ballroom.” I pause as he repeats my instructions back, then a question. “Yes, the empty ballroom behind the red ropes, and they better have it here in the next sixty seconds, or everyone is going to be looking for new jobs.”
I click off and shove the phone back in my pocket, hating that it took her nearly passing out to get her next to me like this.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak? Not everything can be done as soon as you snap your fingers.” She shakes her head. “Besides, I’m really okay. I’m not hungry.”
It makes me furious that she thinks she has to look like this. If she’s thin, that’s great, some people are naturally that way and can out eat even me. But to starve herself for this? No fucking way.
Not on my watch.
“Uh huh. Tell me what you ate last and when.” I challenge, even as my cock throbs and nearly fights its way out of my black pants to get at her.
She pauses, looking at the floor, then the wall, and finally opens her mouth to answer, but I know whatever is about to come out is bullshit. And she must see the fury in my eyes, because she tugs her lips to the side and shrugs.
“That’s what I thought.”
From behind, I hear the movement of feet and turn to see six members of the wait staff, holding full trays of food and drinks as requested. I point to the top of the piano, and they set out the linen and spread of plates, including several empty ones with linen napkins and polished silverware.
When they’re done, they make their way back out of the ballroom without another word.
“Wow.” Doralee’s blue eyes turn to circles. “I don’t know...”
“Well I do.” I step over and make a plate with a selection of the foods from the evening. Filet, shrimp, cheeses and bread, boiled quail eggs, risotto and a tall glass of apple juice.
Before she can protest, I bring a bite of the filet to her lips. “Open.”
“No, you don’t understand. My father and his girlfriend...they make me weigh in twice a day and if I gain any weight...”
“Then they are assholes. Sorry, but that’s asshole stuff. Open your mouth right now.”
One last second of hesitation, then she does as I ask, making the most wonderful sound as the food slips past her lips and she devours it like she’s never tasted food before.
After that, it’s the cheese, then a quail egg, and with each bite more color comes to her cheeks and the little girl I see in her eyes giggles and squeals at the joy of it all.
I bring a chocolate covered cherry to her lips, but just as she opens to accept it, and I’m imagining those lips opening to accept something else I want to give her, there’s a sharp gasp from behind us.
“Doralee!” A shrill voice cuts through the moment, and I see Doralee’s face fall. Fear clouds her eyes and she shoves my hand roughly from her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry!” She brushes past me, wiping her mouth as I watch a woman dressed in red and an older man in a tuxedo that looks like a little like W.C. Fields marching across the ballroom. “Please, don’t do—”
“Don’t be sorry for fucking eating.” I snap, turning to point at the approaching duo. “I’m going to make a leap here that you are dad and you are the girlfriend.”
The woman ignores me, grabbing Doralee’s hand and pulling her away. “All the work we’ve done. You’re going to throw it all away? Tonight of all nights? Andre and Michael are waiting for you. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
The bit of calm I still have left is quickly eroding as I put together that Doralee is the new ‘meat’ those fuckers were talking about earlier.
She turns as I start to speak. “Please...” The tremor in her voice breaks my heart. “Thank you for everything. I have to go. Please, let me go.” There’s panic and desperation in her eyes, and I never want to see that again, but something is happening here I don’t fully understand.
But I intend to.
“Come along.” The man I assume is her father extends his arm, then motions toward the door before nodding at me. “Mr. Lasssiter. My daughter is here for business, not for pleasure. She’s a child. Shame on you.”
I bite back the words that catch in my throat, because until I can figure out how to fix this, I’m going to let her go.
For now.
Chapter Four
Doralee
BY THE TIME I GET TO Paris, my eyes will be swollen shut and the Hart Agency will most likely turn me right around and send me home. And honestly, I might thank them.
The limousine they sent to pick me up was late but it hums under me on the way to the airport as I hug my coat around me and the familiar gnawing in my stomach has me leaning forward and squeezing my eyes shut, praying for something to take away these feelings.
Saying goodbye to Blubs and Glubs nearly shook me into convulsions.
But, there was more. For three days, I’ve not been able to get Damon out of my mind. He’s not the first man whose wanted me, not even close. I understand to many men I’m desirable. The modeling I’ve done for the last few years has brought a number of challenges, and fending off unwanted advances is nothing new.
Not that Damon’s advances were unwanted.
A little shiver shakes my core at that thought, my eyes burning anew. For some reason, I had this crazy, girlish fantasy that he would come looking for me. Show up at my door and sweep me away, grabbing my dogs on the way and saying he felt the same things I felt that night in the ballroom.
For three days I waited, hoped, even prayed—though I’m not sure I was very good at that, since I haven’t been to church since my mother’s funeral.
Now, here I am. On my way to make my dreams come true.
But I know that’s not the truth. Damn January and all her probing, making me question everything. I don’t even know what my dreams are anymore. I’ve spent so many years being the perfect Doralee for everyone else, I’m numb inside. The only time I feel peaceful is at the piano, playing and singing, even just for myself.
And Melany even took that away from me, making me give up my own baby grand piano I had in the penthouse to turn that room into her new office space, as though there weren’t ten other rooms she could have used.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, that spark of hope still alive that Damon has somehow found my nu
mber and is calling to tell me he’s fixed everything.
That he’s on his way to get me...
Or it could be Melany, reminding me once again to take my medications. I get terrible anxiety when I fly and she sent me with another prescription, yet more pills even than the last time I went on a plane. I’m to take them as soon as I’m on the runway, to prevent what happened the last time I flew which resulted in a panic attack and two hours of puking into little paper bags.
But it’s neither of them.
It’s just January, calling again. I already talked to her two hours ago. Well, I’m not sure ‘talking’ is the right word, since I could barely get the words out through the sobs as I held onto my fur-babies with Melany standing in the doorway, the driver from the kennel looking bored as he waited to pry them away from me.
Like she couldn’t have let that wait until I had left? I had to be there to see them go into the carrier, barking and whining as they were carried away?
Evil has a name and French manicure.
“Hello.” I manage, my voice raw, but at least I’m too numb to sob anymore.
“Hi. I can’t stand this. Don’t get on that plane. If you need money, I’ll send you some. Come to L.A. Stay with me. Live here for the rest of your life. My house is so big, my dad won’t even notice you’re here. We’ll spend New Year’s Eve together, it will be fun.”
For a split second I consider it, but then I remember Melany’s deal and I shake my head. I won’t do anything that will endanger my babies.
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“Why is it so fucking important to them for you to do this? That’s what I don’t get. Something isn’t right, Dor.”
I draw a deep breath. “It’s not just them,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as her. “I always said it’s what I wanted. It was my dream too. I think Melany just wants me out of the way, and my dad? I think he’s just lost, and Melany somehow has him under her spell. I don’t know, I just know I have to go. I’ll be fine. When I get there, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe it will be what I’ve wanted and I’m just so confused.”
