“You eavesdropped? How could you?” I say.
Damien calmly drops the rest of the canned tomatoes into the pot, and picks out the wooden spoon. “Look at things from my perspective. I have a one night stand with you and I like you. But I don’t know your history with this guy. And he’s coming in at eight in the morning reeking of alcohol. Who knows what drugs he was on? I had to watch out for you.”
I put my hands on my hips and step up to him. “You are being awfully cavalier about spying on me!”
“I was protecting you.”
“So I can’t protect myself?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I just…”
“Just what? What are you not telling me?”
My emotions cascade out of control. I’ve been hurt by an impulsive liar too many times to count, and I’m not going to start this relationship off on that foot—with a guy who won’t make his full intentions known.
“I’ve told you everything you’ve ever asked me!” he says, his voice gruff. He holds out his hand and counts off. “I told you I was a male stripper. I admitted I was eavesdropping on you. I’m not trying to hide it! It’s because I care about you.”
I nod slowly, processing his words. I swallow. ‘Because I care about you’ was Nick’s logic for doing many things, too.
“Well then,” I say slowly. “Why don’t you tell me why you have women’s lipstick in your medicine cabinet?”
His eyes widen, and then narrow. As he stands less than a foot from me I can feel the heat emanating from his body. And it’s not just from the chili.
“Why. The. Fuck. Would you look. In my. Medicine cabinet?” he huffs, backing me up into the kitchen island.
I swallow, suddenly scared.
I’ve got secrets. Maybe Damien’s got them too.
Maybe his are even bigger than mine.
“I-I-I was looking for some Advil,” I stutter, lowering my eyes to the floor. “And I couldn’t help but notice it.”
“You do not go through my shit without permission. Do you understand?”
“Why are you being so guarded now?” I shoot back, bringing my eyes to his. “Weren’t you the one who was just saying we should tell each other our secrets? Get to know each other on a whole other level?”
He places his muscled arms on either side of me on the marble island.
My heart hammers heart in my chest, and instinctively I put my hand over it. I feel like I just put myself out there. I just let this man—no, begged him—to come on my chest, only to find five minutes later that he’s a lying liar along the lines of Nick?
Fuck this shit. Fuck it all to hell.
Damien’s eyes gloss over. He seems unfocused and in a far away reality, looking over my shoulder, gazing at nothing in particular.
“You’ve got nothing to say?” I say softly, trying to hold back the tears welling up inside me. “So that’s it then? It’s another woman. When did you have her over? Did you just sleep with me and then have her over the next night?” There’s venom in my voice, and when the words come out, I instantly regret them.
Mostly.
I can’t help word vomiting everything I’m thinking right now, though. Damien and I have been fast and furious, like a damn meteor. I’ve felt things for him I’ve never felt for another man in my life. But if this isn’t meant to be, if we’re not even a week in and we’re already living a lie, there’s no sense in me censoring myself.
Damien doesn’t move. He’s inches from me, and I can hear his breath, taste his lips on my tongue still. I glance down his torso, zooming in on every tattoo, every rippling muscle, every vein. Damn the man for being so sexy. He lured me in like a moth to a flame, and this is the moment I burn up.
“I should go then,” I whisper, trying to slide under Damien’s arms.
“Wait,” he growls, and I freeze.
“It’s my sister’s,” he finally says.
My jaw falls, and I’m disgusted. “Bullshit. You just spaced out for like two minutes to come up with that lie. You didn’t even tell me you had a sister!”
“I don’t,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Not anymore, at least.”
“Not any...more?” My tone softens.
“She passed away years ago after a guy followed her home, busted in her place, and...I don’t want to talk about this. But the week before that she left her lipstick in my medicine cabinet. I haven’t had the heart to touch it, let alone move it.” He raises his elbow to me, his rose tattoo prominent.
“Her name was Rose,” he adds.
“Oh,” I whisper, the air whooshing out of me like I’m a deflating balloon. Suddenly, I feel sick. I feel awful. I look into his eyes, and they’re glossed over, his eyes still looking over the shoulder at some inanimate object, unfocused. I’ve looked into the eyes of liars. Specifically, I looked into Nick’s eyes for years while he lied to my face.
These are not the eyes of a lying man.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. “I had no idea.” I rub my hands on his chest. It’s hot to the touch.
“You had no way of knowing,” he growls, taking my hand and gazing back into my eyes. When he does, I feel the life breathed back into me, like he just gave me a slice of my soul back.
“Just don’t make assumptions about me. And I won’t make any about you. And for God’s sake, if you see something that freaks you out about me, don’t hide it. Just tell me. I’m not perfect—I promise you that. There’s still stuff you don’t know about me. But I’m not purposefully trying to hide anything. I also promise you that.”
Just then, he takes hold of the nape of my neck, exhales, and kisses me intensely.
I moan, his kiss a sweet relief to my aching heart.
“I want you, Krista. I need you now,” he growls into my ear. “I want to taste you.”
“The chili…” I whisper.
“Fuck the chili.”
His hand searches for the buckle of my jeans, and he opens and unzips them.
“Damien,” I mutter, running my hand along his back.
“I said, FUCK the chili,” he reiterates, then lifts me up to the kitchen island like I’m as light as a feather.
My resistance fades, and I lift my hips to help him get my jeans off. My ass cheeks feel cold on the marble kitchen island. He pulls my shoes off first, then takes the jeans off one ankle at a time.
“What are you going to do to me?” I say.
Wrapping my hair in his hand, he pulls my head back and exposes my neck.
“I’m going to make your toes curl and your body shudder,” he responds.
“What about the ten dates?” I protest meekly, wrapping my hand around his forearm.
“We said no sex. We didn’t say anything about you fucking my face, Sweetheart.”
I close my eyes and my hips quake as he slips my panties out from under my thighs, and I’m naked from the waist down. “You’re going to...oh God,” I murmur, and he slowly works kisses from one of my ankles up to my thighs, so close to my throbbing clit, and then he starts again on the other ankle—licking and kissing me slowly.
I swear, minutes pass while he teases me. I lean back, propping myself up on my elbows so I can watch him. His lips are soft, but his day-old beard is a little rough as it brushes against my legs. Sliding his hands up the tops of my legs, he takes hold of my hands.
He interlocks my fingers in his, and in spite of the dirty things he’s doing with his tongue, it’s this little gesture that sets me over the edge.
“Stop teasing me,” I beg. “Please just do it.”
He glances up at me with a cocky grin. “Oh? Do what? Do this?”
As he slides his tongue on my skin closer to my opening, goosebumps rise up on my limbs.
Finally, he lands between my legs, flicking his tongue gently on my clit.
“Mmmm,” he groans, the reverberations of his deep voice vibrating through my body.
Leaning forward, I grab hold of his hair and massage his head as he tongues me. Waves o
f pleasure shoot through me and I squeeze my thighs around him, almost involuntarily, and I worry if it’s too hard, if he can take it.
Wrapping my legs around his head seems to spur him on, not stop him, though. He wraps his hands around my thighs as he licks me deep.
I pant, searching for my release.
I let go.
The minutes pass.
He does. Not. Let Up.
The seas part. I reach the oasis and the promised land.
I let go of it all.
The stress and the fight and the baggage, and the past, and it's just me and Damien.
Take me there, Damien.
Take me there.
I utter incoherent things as he laps me up hungrily, my hips grinding into him. My mouth etched into a permanent “O” shape, I savor the thrill of the moment. The heat of his tongue. The cold of the marble. The softness of his hair on my palm.
Just then, my phone buzzes in my purse on the island. It rings once, and I ignore it. Twice.
“Damien,” It’s probably work. I should get it.”
“Fuck work,” is all he says, his pause momentary.
Somewhere in a corner of my mind, a part that hasn’t turned to mush, I rationalize that maybe it’s work calling. Maybe they’re calling me off. I want to know. I’d rather stay here with Damien all night then go back in.
When the phone rings again, I answer it.
“Hello,” I say, my voice coming out all sleepy.
“Hello Krista,” the voice says, and I clench up.
It’s fucking Nick. I try to hang up immediately, but I don’t, and instead I put him on speaker.
Right as Damien does something with his tongue that forces me to unleash a loud moan.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Nick barks.
“I’m...I’m...busy right now,” I manage to say, fumbling the phone in my hand. My voice sounds like I’m on vacation, in a place far, far away.
And in one manner of speaking, I am.
Pleasure town: population this girl.
“I have to go,” I tell Nick, finally getting a handle on the phone and taking it off speaker. “Bye.”
One millisecond before I hang up, he barks into the receiver again. “You better not do that!”
Damien pushes two fingers inside me, and I clench around him. His tongue still on my clit, he takes me to that promised land.
My mind is everywhere and nowhere. I let go of the phone and it lands on the counter with a thud.
I come. I come so hard I can’t control the trembling in my hips. Damien’s growls ignite me and I’m gone. God damn does he know how to handle that tongue as he hits the spot. I can’t help the soft cries leaving my lips.
Before I even have a chance to come back down to earth, Damien gets up from his knees, looking positively devilish.
I lie on the counter, my chest heaving. I’m weak. I’m woozy. And I’m completely satisfied.
Damien picks up my phone.
“Nick...Yeah...Don’t fucking call this number again....Or try to see her again...it’s fucking over…Yeah? Well fuck you too.”
He hangs up, and tosses the phone on the couch.
“He’s been blocked. Now how about that chili?”
14
Damien
One glance at the clock has Krista in a panic that she’ll be late to her shift. She kisses me on the cheek, then runs down to her apartment to get her scrubs on, and heads to work.
I’m a little miffed she was snooping around my medicine cabinet on date fucking number two? And then had the nerve to come at me all hard like that?
And then come on me all hard like that.
The memory of the sound of Krista’s moans reverberates in my mind as I partition the chili into day-portions for work. Yeah, what can I say, the girl has a hold on me.
Just like she held onto my head with her legs as she came.
I whistle a little, and bob my shoulders to the beat of the song playing on my stereo: “Work from Home.” My soul hasn’t felt this light in ages. I wonder if it’s a coincidence that this was also the first time I’d talked about my sister in ages. It’s tough to talk about her, but it feels good when I do.
At least that’s what my last therapist said before I stopped going.
I’m still on a high. Remebering her face as she walked in on me with a rock hard erection, thinking about her. The sound of unintelligible words she shouted when she moaned as I brought her to the brink of orgasm. The “O” shape of her mouth when I looked up and stole a glance at her sweaty, ruddy red face as she went over the edge.
I fire up my phone and send a text to Krista.
Damien: Fuck that was hot
Krista: I wouldn’t know. I had to leave before the chili was cooked. Remember?
Damien: LOL very funny. I’m not talking about the food...although I did enjoy my meal
Krista: OMG you are dirty
Damien: So? So are you
Krista: And starving. My tummy is rumbling. I need chili!
Damien: Are you at work yet?
Krista: I got here an hour ago
Damien: I’ll be by with some chili
I see the three dots, but she doesn’t immediately write back.
Damien: Sweetheart, I’ll see you in about thirty minutes. That okay?
The three dots are still there. But no answer.
I assume she got paged, which is common for nurses I’m sure.
But for some reason, her no reply doesn’t sit well with me. I’m not insecure. Neither is she. We’re not some couple playing ‘who is going to text me first’ chicken.
I throw on a shirt, leather jacket and boots, and grab the tupperware single portion of chili. I hesitate before I leave, then look for a plastic spoon. I don’t find one, so I throw a metal one into a paper bag with the chili container.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way out, and I can’t help but chuckle. Day-old beard, tattoos sticking out of the hem at my neck and coming out of my sleeves at my forearms. With a damn paper bag lunch for my girlfriend.
Shit.
A ball of anxiety lurches through me.
Did I just say ‘girlfriend?’
I mean, did I just think ‘girlfriend.’ I didn’t say anything out loud. But I definitely thought it. I rub my forehead, hesitating before I head out the door. We’ve been moving so fast. Too fast? In the past, I’d never even *think* about calling a girl my girlfriend until we’d been seeing each other for months. This whole “Ten Date” thing is making me want her more, not less.
Not like we’ve exactly been abiding by the rules. Just today, we rounded second base and headed straight for third.
And I want more. I want it all.
I head back into my room, go into my closet, and pull out a small box, just a little bigger than a box you’d put a ring in. I glance inside at the contents, and grin. It’s been so long since I’ve used this. There was a time when i thought I might never take this out again. Never show this side of myself to someone. But Krista needs to know. And damn, I want her to know.
This could backfire horribly. But if it it doesn’t, it’s going to open up a whole new world for us both. I grin at the possibilities.
A slight drizzle starts as I make make my way through the Chicago city streets. The rain is oddly soothing.
My phone buzzes in the cradle between the seats, and I’m relieved that she finally texted me back. But when I glance at the name, it’s Axel, not Krista.
The ball of anxiety returns, and actually jumps higher up in my throat. I don’t read Axel’s text, but it doesn’t sit right with me that Krista hasn’t texted me back still.
When I pull into the hospital parking lot, I check Axel’s text. He’s trying to get me to go to Midnight Ride again tonight. I text him back that yeah I’ll go, maybe if hell freezes over between now and then.
The only way I’m going to back to that place again is with my girl. Heh. I smile to myself. Maybe we’ll put on a show for
everyone.
I grab the sack lunch and the small box, and head into the Cardiac - Post Open Hearts wing of the hospital.
In the main lobby, plenty of people are mulling around waiting, some looking more worried than others.
I walk up to the front desk with a giant smile on my face, noting the nameplate.
“Hi there, Brenda,” I sing.
“Hi Sir. How can I help you?”
“Would you please tell me where I can find Krista Pennington? She forgot something at home.”
“Of course, Sir. She’s normally right over there, at the nursing station.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean, normally?”
“Well, her boyfriend came in and needed to talk to her just now.”
My muscles tighten, and adrenaline surges through me. “How long ago was her boyfriend here?”
“Oh, about thirty minutes ago.”
Right when she stopped texting me. “Where is she now?”
“I’m not sure—she said she was taking a quick break and headed into the parking lot for a moment.” She hesitates, reading the situation. “Who are you, by the way?”
“I’m her other boyfriend,” I growl.
“Uh...other boyfriend?” she asks, positively confused.
“That’s right. Thanks for your help, Brenda,” I say with a polite nod.
I turn and head out the door, my blood pumping. Clenching one fist, I feel my military training kick in. The smell of rain is overwhelming, but I swear I can sense something else, too.
It’s her.
Krista’s here. I know it. She’s close. I walk back to my truck and put the chili and the box inside it, then shut the door carefully. Glancing at my glove compartment, I take note of my weapon inside. For a brief moment, I consider bringing it out.
No. We’re at a hospital. This is Krista’s work. Things could get messy.
I spin around, doing a three-hundred-sixty degree scan of the parking lot as I do.
Come out, come out, you son of a bitch.
I knew this Nick guy was nutty the first time I saw him.
What I don’t understand is why Krista kowtows to his every word and action. She’s so strong and stubborn in all other aspects of life. Why does she have such a soft spot for him?
Ten Night Stand Page 9
