He raised an eyebrow. "You need to think about it? You were the one so adamant about this dating thing."
"That was before. I don't know if the two of us together is a good idea," I said. "We still need to work together. This whole thing could blow up in our faces."
"Let me convince you," he said immediately.
"And how are you going to do that?" I asked slowly.
A shameless grin snuck across his face. "You'll find out when I pick you up. Tomorrow night, eight o' clock?"
Cringing inside, knowing I might end up regretting it, I nodded. I had no idea what the hell I was getting myself into.
Then again, with Damon, no one ever did.
Chapter Fifteen
Candlelit dinner, I mused as I surveyed my wardrobe.
I'd been trying on outfits for more than half an hour, deciding what to wear. I didn't know anything about this date. All Damon had said was to be ready by eight. He'd mentioned something about candlelit dinners before. Could he have been serious?
I finally gave up. I put on a simple black cocktail dress, something I'd worn to a handful of client events. I fussed around with my makeup for longer than I should have, trying to decide on a smokey eye or not. I didn't want to overdo it, but I did want to look my best. In the end I went with the natural look accented with a bold red lip.
I'd just finished putting my hair into a high ponytail when Damon knocked. My heart thumped an extra beat, nerves gathering in my belly. Standing behind the front door, I took in a slow deep breath. I opened it.
I was met with green eyes and a full grin. Damon was just as handsome as ever, and freshly shaved on top of it all.
His gaze widened as he scanned me up and down. His lips parted, but no words came out. I'd turned him speechless. A bit of smugness came over me. Damon had flustered me enough times. It was nice to see the tables turned for once.
"Take off that dress," he demanded.
I let out a snort and folded my arms across my chest. "You're unbelievable."
He shook his head. "No, I mean, it's sexy as hell, but that dress is totally wrong for our date."
I felt a twinge of irritation. "If you'd told me where we were going ahead of time, I could have planned a more appropriate outfit."
I scanned down the rest of him. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. A short sleeved t-shirt that only served to highlight every ripple of his inked arms. Another tingle formed in my belly, different from the nerves I'd experienced before.
"You really don't like surprises, do you?" he asked.
I dragged my eyes away from his muscles and back up to his face. "You're just figuring this out now?"
From his smirk, I knew I'd been caught staring again.
"Jeans and a t-shirt," was all he said. "Sneakers, too. I want you to be comfortable on this date."
I waved him through the door and closed it behind him. "You can wait here while I change." I always kept things tidy, so there wasn't anything embarrassing lying around like dirty bras or panties.
"I can come help you pick out something to wear," he said with a leer.
"I think I can manage a change of clothes without your help," I retorted.
As exasperating as it was, I was grateful that casual clothes were okay for wherever he was taking me. I wore heels and pencil skirts all day for work. Putting on a pair of well worn jeans and a comfy t-shirt was a relief.
I did make sure to choose my dark denim skinny jeans and a form fitting top. I still wanted to look good and well put together, after all.
When I stepped out of my bedroom, I was rewarded with an impressed whistle.
"If you make a comment about my ass or my boobs, I'm kicking you out," I warned.
"I was just going to say you look as lovely in casual clothes as you do in your librarian skirts," he said.
"It's called professional office attire," I countered.
"Either way, you rock both looks," he said appreciatively.
Pleased, I let him lead me out the door and into his waiting Cobra Jet. I slid into the passenger seat after he held the door open for me. That delicious leather scent filled my nostrils again. Something deep and rich, like raw leather. Something uniquely Damon.
I inhaled a quick lungful as Damon walked around to the other side of the car. I didn't want him to catch me smelling his car, like he always caught me staring at his arms.
As we drove through the city, I pestered Damon with questions about where we were going, but he refused to say. I began to get suspicious when a brightly lit Ferris wheel appeared in the distance. My suspicions were confirmed when we pulled into a large parking lot just outside a festival fairgrounds.
"You're taking me to a carnival?" I asked. "Planning on winning me a stuffed animal?"
He turned to me with a glint in his eyes. "Sweetness, I'm going to win you every stuffed animal."
"Big words." I shook my head ruefully. "A carnival. You really are a fourteen year old boy inside."
A huge grin spread across his face. "It's not just any carnival."
"No?"
"It's a haunted Halloween carnival." The glee in his voice was unmistakable.
I laughed. "Is this your version of going to a horror film? You want me to scream and cower so you can put your arms around me and make a move?"
He smirked. "I just want to see you shriek and lose your cool for once."
"Not gonna happen."
"We'll see."
With a sense of determination, I turned my attention to the festival grounds. There were the standard rides you saw at any fair, but everything was Halloween themed. Pumpkins, spider cobwebs and bats featured predominantly. The concession stands sold orange and black popcorn. I didn't want to know how they managed that. Some sort of odd flavor coating, no doubt. Instead of carnival music, they blasted spooky haunted house noises, with moaning ghosts, clanking chains and witches cackling.
I'd never been a huge fan of Halloween, but I had to admit, the elaborate production they'd set up looked pretty fun.
"Where to first?" I asked as we walked through the entrance gates. They were guarded by a pair of black-cloaked vampires with bloody fangs.
"You mentioned something about wanting a stuffed animal?" he asked.
"I didn't say I wanted a stuffed animal," I began to protest, but Damon was already in game mode. He took my hand in his and was off.
As he marched from stall to stall, his thumb rubbed back and forth along the back of my hand. A small shiver went though me. It had nothing to do with the cool evening breeze. I looked at our conjoined hands as he guided me through the crowd. His palm was large and warm, and engulfed mine. My own slim fingers looked so small and delicate in comparison to his strong, calloused ones.
"This one here," Damon declared, coming to a stop in front of a brightly lit stall manned by a bored looking girl.
We were in front a small circular pool of water with floating plastic pumpkins easily bobbing their way around. Toy fishing poles with comically large hooks were leaning against the game stall.
"The duck fishing game?" I asked. "This is the one you want to play?"
"Yeah, I'm awesome at it." Damon pushed a fistful of bills into the bored girl's hands and picked up a fishing pole. "And it's not ducks, it's pumpkins."
"This isn't a game of skill," I told him. "You fish for the toy and you win whatever prize it says on the bottom."
"I've got good luck," was all he said.
I hid a laugh behind my hand as Damon put his full attention into the game. He used the fishing pole to hover the hook over each duck, one at a time, trying to decide which one held the best prize. His eyes were narrowed in concentration.
"You're ridiculous," I told him.
"You say that now," he said, not taking his eyes off the game. "Just wait until I win you that enormous stuffed unicorn up there."
Looking up, I saw a number of stuffed animal prizes hanging from the booth's ceiling. There was indeed a sparkly rainbow-colored unicorn the size
of my entire body.
"Yes!" Damon cheered. I turned back to find him holding a pumpkin in his hand, his arm raised triumphantly.
"Congratulations on winning, what prize do you want?" the bored girl asked in a monotone voice.
"The unicorn." Damon pointed upward.
"Wait," I protested. "What am I going to do with that?"
But the girl had already taken down the stuffed toy. Damon took it from her and held it out to me.
I shook my head but took it in my arms and hugged it to my body. It was squishy. "I told you you're ridiculous, right?"
"You did," he agreed. "I have to say, I like it a lot better than you calling me an asshole."
"The night is young," I said. "There's still time." I looked toward the closest concession stand. "I kind of want to know what flavor that black popcorn is."
"I bet it's black cherry," he said. "I've seen these gourmet popcorns before. They coat them with colored syrup, just like they do with caramel."
"Ugh." I fake a shudder. "I hate the fake cherry flavor. I hope it's black licorice."
"You like black licorice?" It was Damon's turn to blanch. "You're a monster. No one likes black licorice. No, it's definitely cherry."
"Want to make a wager on it?" I asked.
"What does the winner get?" He leaned in close, ducking his head until his nose almost touched mine. "Something sexy I hope," he murmured in a low voice.
My stomach muscles clenched at his words. The heat in his gleaming green eyes make my toes curl in my sneakers. Damon's eyes were trained on my lips. I wet them nervously. That heat in his eyes flared. It clouded my judgment. It made me daring.
"How about the winner gets a kiss?" I suggested playfully.
"We're both winners with that prize," he noted.
"Then the loser has to pay," I added.
"Sounds fair."
He took my hand again and lead me to the nearest popcorn seller. My heart thumped in my chest, my mind still fogged over. Damon approached the popcorn stand.
"Hey sweetheart, can you help me out?" Damon asked the girl behind the counter with a winning smile. "We've got a bet going on over the flavor of that black popcorn. Loser pays. Could you give us each a kernel to try?"
The girl stammered, blushing and ducking her head. Damon's Rock Star Sex God effect. She scooped a couple pieces into a napkin and handed them to him. Damon put a few in my hand.
"Both at the same time?" he suggested.
We brought the popcorn to our mouths and munched on the kernels.
Damon immediately spit his out onto the ground. His face scrunched up in distaste.
"Ha!" I cheered after swallowing. "Black licorice. I win. You pay."
"So I have to pay for a bag of popcorn I'm not even going to eat?" he asked.
"That's why you're the loser," I said. "I get to devour the whole thing myself."
And devour it I did, shoving handfuls into my mouth at a time. I munched happily as Damon grumbled. As I ate, I shifted the huge stuffed unicorn from one arm to another.
"This thing is just going to get in the way," I said. "I have no idea why you felt the need to show off like that."
"It's a matter of manly pride," he said. "Of course I was going to win my girl a prize."
My girl.
A fluttery feeling welled up in my chest.
"It is pretty big, though," he agreed.
Damon took the stuffed toy from me and looked around. I followed as he wandered a few paces away, wondering what he was planning. He crouched down in front of a little girl with a wild mop of hair.
"Hey sweetheart," he said in a gentle voice.
The girl and her mother turned to him. The mom's eyes immediately widened. A slight blush crossed her cheeks as Damon grinned up at her, green eyes sparkling.
"I won this prize, but my lady friend here doesn't want it." He tilted his head to wink at me. "Would you like it?" he asked the girl.
The little girl's mouth popped open with a high pitched shriek. She immediately reached out and grabbed the unicorn to her chest.
"Lacey!" the mother scolded, sounding embarrassed. "Where are your manners?"
Damon laughed and bopped the girl on the nose with one finger. "This is where you say thanks, kid."
"Thanks!" she squealed, bouncing up and down on her toes and hugging the toy. It was bigger than her entire body.
"Thank you," the mother repeated, flustered at Damon's million-watt smile. "That was very kind of you."
"Don't want to see a good stuffed animal go to waste," was all he said.
Damon took my hand as we left the girl and her mother, the kid shrieking in delight.
"You have a soft spot for children," I said.
"Kids are cool," he replied. "They don't give a fuck about anything."
"That must be why you get along so well with them," I said. "You're kindred spirits." I looked back at the little girl. She was still bouncing up and down. "So what's next?" I asked.
"We haven't done a ride yet," he said.
"Nothing too crazy," I said. "Those kinds of rides make me sick."
"Should we stick to the spinning teacups?" he teased.
"Hey, those teacups can go pretty fast."
This being a Halloween carnival, the teacup ride was actually pumpkins. Damon and I took a seat just as the ride was starting. I was fine at first, but the spinning became faster and faster, the force of it making me slide back and forth. I fell into Damon's lap a time or two, but he held on to keep me balanced. It didn't escape me that his hands would sometimes wander to inappropriate places.
I didn't mind. Damon's touch was intoxicating and disorientating and exhilarating. The soft brush of his fingers against my hip, my thigh, the small of my back, was as thrilling as the ride itself. I let my own hands wander a bit, pretending to hold on to his inked upper arms for balance, letting myself press against his side.
"You enjoying yourself?" he murmured in my ear. One hand snuck between my legs, thumb brushing my inner thigh.
"Not as much as you are," I said, removing his hand and placing it around my waist. He just rumbled an amused chuckle.
Flirting with Damon was fun. It was also confusing. I rarely let myself get this wrapped up in a guy. I preferred to play things closer to my chest. But there was something about Damon.
Being around this man made me want to throw all caution to the wind.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time the spinning teacup-pumpkin ride ended, my head was dizzy and I was regretting eating the entire bag of popcorn myself.
"Ughhh." I put a hand to my belly. "I'm going to be sick."
"There's a trashcan over there," Damon pointed out helpfully.
I made a face at him. "Let's just choose something a little slower paced next time."
He scanned the fairgrounds. "That one looks good," he said, pointing.
"The Tunnel of Love?" I laughed. "Of course that's what you would choose."
"It's not a tunnel of love," he corrected. "This is a Halloween carnival. It's a tunnel of horror."
"You just want to get me alone in a dark place."
He grinned and handed over the tickets to the waiting attendant.
We climbed into the ride. The bench was narrow, forcing us to squish together, our hips touching. I didn't object.
As the carriage began to move into the dark tunnel, spooky music started up and fake demons and ghosts appeared, lining the walls. The ride seemed more suitable to kids than adults.
Damon put his hand around my waist.
"Are you planning on comforting me when the scary monsters jump out?" I asked.
Damon's hand lowered from my waist to my thigh. He leaned down to press a sucking kiss on my neck. "Comfort isn't what I'm after."
I shivered as his fingers crept lower to my inner thigh, just barely brushing the apex of my legs. "Do I even need to ask what you're after?"
He popped the button on my jeans. My breath caught in my throat. He snuck his han
d between the gap, forcing the zipper down.
"Damon, we're in the middle of—"
His thumb skimmed along the elastic of my panties.
"In the middle of what?" He nibbled on my ear.
"We're—"
I gasped as the tip of his middle finger pressed directly on my clit through the thin cotton. He rubbed in slow, sensual circles. I made a low sound in the back of my throat, trying to keep quiet. I didn't know how far behind the next carriage with the other riders was. He played with me expertly until I was rocking forward to meet his hand. My hips rolled unconsciously, tilting to get more of that delicious sensation.
Encouraged by my response, Damon slid his hand into my panties. My jeans were a tight fit, but there was enough room for him to maneuver. Enough room for his middle finger to slid between my lower lips. I let out a moan.
His lips returned to my throat. His bit down lightly, teething nipping at me. I let out a sharp breath. He soothed the same spot with his tongue, leaving wet trails along my skin. I shivered as he blew cool air over the bite mark.
"You better not leave marks," I warned breathlessly.
His only response was to press inside me slowly, inch by inch, taking his time. I whined, low in the back of my throat. He began pumping in and out, my wetness easing the passage. I felt myself squeezing around him, pulsing.
"Fuck, you're already so wet," he breathed.
He slid a second finger inside me, joining the first. I moaned again, quietly. My mind fogged over, forgetting about teeth marks and the riders behind us. The only thing that mattered was the motion of his fingers, that exquisite feeling of being spread open.
My hips rose and fell, urging him on. He sped up the pace, darting in and out, that rough drag of his skin against my inner walls.
Pleasure began to overwhelm me, taking hold of me relentlessly. Damon sensed it. He pressed a thumb to my clit and rubbed in a firm circle.
I choked out a cry, limbs locking up, thighs squeezing his wrist, as the pleasure crashed over me like waves. I shook and panted, fingers curling and uncurling. Sparks flew across my vision, a kaleidoscope of color beneath my closed eyelids.
Slowly, I came back to my senses. I felt Damon slip out of me. Distantly, I was aware of him putting my jeans back into place, zipping up and buttoning.
Hard Rock Heat Page 10
