Damon (Starkis Family #2)

by Cheryl Douglas

  “I was just thinking I should get going,” I said.

  “No, you shouldn’t.” He set the tray on the nightstand, which was the size of my single chest of drawers.

  Everything in his room was huge, from the scale of the room to the walnut gilded four-poster bed, which only occupied a fraction of the space. While my taste was more modern, his skilled interior designer had definitely made his home seem warm and inviting in spite of the size.

  “I’m surprised by the traditional décor,” I said, propping my back against the headboard when he handed me a plate containing a stem of grapes, crackers, and a slice of brie. “I would have guessed your style to be more sleek and contemporary.”

  “This is the way I grew up,” he said, sitting beside me as he poured wine into each of our glasses. “Formal, traditional furnishings were the way we lived. When it was time to furnish my own place, I wanted to stick with the traditional theme, but I wanted it to be more comfortable, more liveable.” He chuckled. “Wait ‘til you see some of my parents’ places. They’re the very definition of ostentatious.”

  I didn’t know that his parents would ever invite me to break bread with them. If they did, I knew it would be because of my relationship with Mia, not Damon. I was certain they expected their son to marry a socialite, someone who traveled in the same circles and understood their world. Even though they’d made an exception for Mia, I suspected that was because Deacon hadn’t given them the option.

  “I can’t imagine living that way,” I admitted, popping a grape in my mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it would be nice not having to worry about money, but it all just seems… excessive.” My mother’s situation had shaped my opinions about wealth and poverty, and now that I’d shared my story with Damon, I was certain he understood where I was coming from. I saw it in the soft tilt of his lips when his eyes met mine. He got it. He got me. In a way no man ever had, and that was unnerving.

  “It is excessive. No one needs that much money to be happy. In fact, I’m beginning to question whether money’s more of a curse than a blessing. I’ll admit I didn’t always feel that way. I had a lot of fun partying like a rock star with my rich and spoiled friends, but now that I’m getting older, things are becoming a lot clearer.”

  “How so?” I asked before I could stop myself. Our conversation tonight had already been so much more intense than I’d expected, and I didn’t know how much deeper we could go without getting stuck in quicksand.

  “I’ll sound like a jerk for saying this, especially after what you shared tonight.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, covering his hand with mine. “I don’t judge you because your family is rich, Damon. I know a lot of wealthy people who are warm and loving and generous. So tell me, what were you going to say?” It spoke volumes to me that I actually wanted him to open up. Normally, I tuned men out when they started to talk about their families or their childhoods or plans for the future. But it was different with Damon. I wanted to know more about him.

  “I’ve just met a lot of opportunists in my life,” he said, his eyes darkening before he raised his glass to his lips. “Women who are attracted to money the way vampires seek blood. Their intent is always the same—to bleed you dry.”

  I was surprised by the resentment lacing his words. I’d always known Damon to be an easygoing guy. Unlike his brother, nothing got to Damon, but apparently I’d struck a nerve.

  “You’ve had a lot of women like that in your life?” I asked, drawing my legs up and balancing the plate on my knees. His attitude had piqued my curiosity, and I knew there must be a story there. Given how supportive he’d been when I’d unloaded on him, I figured the least I could do was offer him the same opportunity.

  He set down his glass and picked up a stem of grapes. He chewed carefully before he said, “Yeah, I have. I’ve gotten pretty good at sniffing them out, but every once in a while, one slips under the radar.”

  I knew all about asking the right questions to field out the undesirables. I always conducted a mini-interrogation before agreeing to a first date. The objective was always the same: make sure we’re on the same page—no commitments, just a good time. But I knew what he meant about the odd one slipping under the radar. No matter how rigorous the screening process, it happened sometimes. I laughed at our similarities. “We’re quite a pair, you know that?”

  “How so?” he asked, popping a grape into my open mouth as he smiled.

  “You’re trying to field out gold diggers, and I’m trying to field out guys who want more than a good time. That leaves us with very few options.”

  “Hmmm.” He took my plate, freeing my arms to wrap around him as his lips skimmed my neck. He slowly lowered the sheet, exposing my breasts. “I guess it’s a good thing we found each other then.”

  I heard the warning bells going off inside my head. The way he was looking at me, so predatorily, told me we were crossing some kind of line, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out which one. Was it the casual sex line? The relationship line? The friend line? If I were honest with myself, I’d have admitted he was already more than a friend and had been for a long time. Sex with him could never be casual—he was much too appealing and intense for that. So where did that leave us…? In a relationship?

  Before I could start hyperventilating at the prospect of being in an actual grown-up relationship with a man who could turn me inside out with one glance, he was peeling the sheet off, along with my inhibitions.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  The way he said it made me believe it. I’d always had to try so hard to live up to some ideal, and being in a competitive industry that prized perfection made it difficult to foster high self-esteem. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I heard all the people who pointed out my flaws. They said I was too curvy, too short, not thin enough, my dimples were distracting, if only my eyes were a different color… the list went on. But when Damon looked at me, he saw me the way I’d always wanted to see myself.

  “You make me feel beautiful,” I admitted, hoping he couldn’t hear how much it meant to me that he’d cared enough to peel back my layers. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that—” I had to stop myself before I said something we’d both regret.

  “How can you not know how gorgeous you are?” he asked as his hand curved over my hip.

  “I’m surrounded by beautiful people every day,” I said, fearing the rising lump in my throat would make it difficult to speak without revealing a pain I rarely allowed myself to analyze. “Women who are flawless.”

  He scowled as though my words angered him. “You’re every bit as beautiful as they are, Eleni, from the inside out.” His warm hand moved slowly over my skin, leaving a layer of thrill bumps in its wake. “I’ll admit the first time I saw you, I thought you were perfect. Then I got to know you—”

  “And realized I wasn’t?” I laughed to let him know I was joking… sort of. But when his hand slipped between my legs, the amusement turned to something else. Something duskier, more primal.

  He slid a finger inside me, his hooded gaze never leaving mine. “You began to redefine what perfection means to me.”

  I tried to focus, knowing his words were as important as his actions, but I couldn’t. My thoughts were trapped in a swirling sphere of pleasure, hoping it would never end and questioning how much more I could take.

  Another finger thrust inside my core as his thumb traced mind-numbing circles. “After the first night, I knew I’d barely scratched the surface with you. Your laugh, your smile, the way you challenged me and weren’t afraid to tease me…”

  My eyes snapped open when I sensed him watching me. He seemed mesmerized. My whole body was warm, my cheeks burning, as my hands gripped the sheets and I shamelessly lifted my lower body off the mattress while I rotated my hips, silently begging him to finish me off. But when I was certain he was going to, he slowed his movements, as though he had all the time in the world to pleasure me.

  “Oh God, Damon
…”

  “I’ll never tire of hearing that, your sexy voice whispering my name.” He quickly straddled me, probing my slick entrance, almost as though he were testing me.

  Sex without a condom was a no-no in my book, but something about the prospect of feeling Damon inside me, skin to skin, made me question myself. “I’m using birth control,” I said softly. “I’ve never had sex without a condom before, but…” I trust you. God, I couldn’t say that.

  “Neither have I, but I want to.” His eyes inspected my face, looking for some sign I was hesitant. “It’s your call. You tell me what you want.”

  “I want to feel you. Just like this.”

  I held my breath as he entered me slowly. It was so much more intense, so much more intimate than I’d expected, mainly because his eyes never left mine. It was a first for both of us, which spoke volumes if we were being honest. It reinforced the fact that we trusted each other, that we’d found something in one another that our other partners had been lacking. That was the scariest admission I’d ever made, even to myself, because I couldn’t go on denying how much Damon meant to me after this experience.

  His thrusts were gentle, unhurried, his kisses immobilizing. That was when it hit me—he was making love to me. My heart hammered the same way it had when he’d taken me to the precipice a few moments ago, but this was different. Staring over the edge of this cliff, I felt a bone-chilling fear. This marked the end of my life as I’d known it, the end of an era when I’d been able to protect myself from heartbreak by refusing to let anyone in.

  He kissed my neck, lingering on all the places that made me squirm as I clenched him deeper, never wanting to let go. My hands caressed his broad back as tears sprang to my eyes. Squeezing my eyes shut and praying that would be enough to keep the waterworks at bay, I surrendered to the experience, letting this incredible man love me as I pretended, for the first time, that I actually belonged to someone. I imagined that I’d finally found someone who would love me, take care of, protect me, and never give me reason to distrust me.

  ***

  I knew Damon would be angry that I’d snuck off like a thief in the night while he was sleeping, but I’d never expected him to show up at my apartment at eight in the morning, banging on the door loudly enough to wake my neighbors.

  “What the hell?” I demanded, tightening the sash on my short black silk robe as I opened the door. I stepped out of his path when I realized if I didn’t, I ran the risk of being mowed over.

  “That’s my line,” he said, scowling. “How did you think I’d feel waking up to an empty bed after what we shared last night?”

  I couldn’t have this conversation without coffee. I made my way to the kitchen, saying a silent prayer of thanks that I didn’t have to wait for a pot to brew. Mia had bought one of those single-serve pod deals before she’d moved in with Deacon and had insisted I keep it. I didn’t argue, especially since I knew Deacon had a state-of-the-art kitchen with every gadget known to man at his disposal.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, watching me rummage through the wicker basket that housed a myriad of flavored pods.

  “Deciding which one I want,” I responded, as though it should have been obvious. “What do you feel like? Colombian?” Frightening that I not only knew how he took his coffee but which brew he preferred.

  “I want answers, not coffee.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

  That was when I allowed myself to look at him closely for the first time since he’d stormed into my apartment. He looked luscious in a pair of faded jeans, a gray T-shirt, with his hair slicked back from a recent shower. “Fine, but you know how this works. You won’t get your answers until I get my coffee.”

  He smirked. It was hardly a secret that I couldn’t function without a shot or two of java. “I would have happily served you breakfast in bed with an entire pot of coffee if you’d stayed.”

  Damn butterflies chose that moment to re-emerge, reminding me I’d found a guy most women would kill to have. “I needed some time,” I said, reaching for the steaming mug. “What happened last night was…” I searched for the right word as I opened a packet of natural sweetener and stirred it into my cup. “Intense. I just needed some space to process it, to figure things out.”

  “And now?”

  “I barely slept, Damon,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Come on, give a girl a break.”

  “I need to know what you’re thinking.” He crowded me against the counter with only a ceramic puppy mug between us. “What you’re feeling.”

  “I’m feeling… overwhelmed.” I took a sip of coffee, conscious of the fact that he hadn’t given me a chance to brush my teeth before I answered the door. “I was expecting sex, great sex, and I got more than I bargained for.”

  He looked smug as he set my cup on the counter before his arms encircled me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “I don’t know if it is or not,” I said, looking at his chest instead of his face. I couldn’t look him in the eye and admit how terrified I was. He would see that as weakness, and I wanted to perpetuate the myth that I was strong and independent. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, but you’re not giving me room to breathe.” I immediately regretted my words when I saw the hurt cross his face as he stepped back.

  “The last thing I want to do is pressure you. But you’re going to figure out what I already know. What we have is special, Eleni.”

  I feared he was right, but I still didn’t know what that meant or how we were supposed to proceed. “Have you eaten yet?” I asked, hoping he would give me a reprieve to collect my thoughts.

  “No, but—”

  “How does an omelet sound?” I asked, making my way to the fridge to collect the ingredients. “I was planning to go for a run later. I could use the protein.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I took in his appearance, my gaze settling on his black boots. “You’re going to run in that?”

  “I have a gym bag in the car.”

  I didn’t know how I felt about Damon insinuating himself into my daily routine—not that I didn’t want to spend more time with him. I just needed time to process my thoughts. My time alone on the trails usually allowed me to do that.

  “Hey, if you don’t want company, that’s cool. I have some things to take care of.”

  I didn’t want to offend him, but I had to try to re-establish some boundaries. We were starting to feel too much like a couple, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. “Maybe some other time?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

  He remained silent as I made breakfast. I could tell he was as lost as I was. He was probably used to trying to figure out how to get rid of women the morning after, not questioning why they hadn’t stayed.

  I set our plates on the small breakfast bar. “Sit. Eat.”

  Damon chuckled but did as he was told. “You really are a woman of few words in the morning, aren’t you?”

  “I’m definitely not a morning person,” I said, sitting beside him. The kitchen was small and the breakfast bar was only large enough for three stools, which meant we were close enough that I couldn’t breathe without inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne.

  We ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes before he said, “I can’t believe my brother’s going to be a married man soon. That’s crazy.”

  “Why do you say that?” I took my last bite of toast before wiping my mouth with a paper napkin.

  “I just never thought he’d find someone like Mia. I knew he’d get married eventually.” He took a sip of juice. “He made no secret of the fact he wanted a family, but I guess I always pictured him marrying some nice Greek girl who was willing to look the other way when he messed around.”

  “Someone like your mother?” When his eyes darkened, I regretted the question. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

  “No, it’s okay.” He pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back. “It pisses me off
whenever I think about what the old man has put her through. My mother’s a good woman. She deserved a husband who respected and appreciated her.”

  I was happy that Damon acknowledged his father was out of line for cheating on the woman who loved him. “Why do you think she puts up with it?” Aside from the obvious financial incentive.

  “I think she feels trapped. She came from a different culture, a different generation, that believed that marriage was forever. Once the priest pronounced you husband and wife and you signed your name on the dotted line, there was no way out.”

  “Do you wish she had left him?” I knew things would have been very different for Damon’s mother had she left his father. She was a woman of means and opportunity.

  “Sometimes I do, if only to teach him a lesson.” He circled his finger around the rim of his coffee cup, obviously lost in his thoughts. “Demi thinks money buys him the right to treat people like shit, and I don’t agree. I give him credit for accomplishing all that he has. I can’t deny it’s impressive to start with nothing and build a multi-billion-dollar empire in forty years, but I don’t think that should give him a free pass. He does.”

  “Your parents’ relationship must have shaped the way you think about marriage,” I said, leaning an elbow on the counter as my hand cradled my head. “Has it made you a little gun-shy?” I didn’t know why we were talking about marriage. It was something neither of us would consider in the near future—or ever, in my case—but I was curious to hear his thoughts on the subject.

  I was surprised by the immediate change in his expression. When he crossed his arms, taking on a defensive posture, I realized my mistake. He obviously thought I was trying to lay the groundwork for some epic love story, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.