by J. Kenner
I don't know if it's been fifteen minutes or fifteen hours when my leg starts to cramp and I have to move. I glance down and realize my hand is still in a fist. I open it slowly and see the indentations from my fingernails, some so deep they've almost drawn blood.
I stare at my hand as I get up. I don't realize I'm doing it as I walk into the kitchen. We have a knife block, and I take out a paring knife. I turn on the gas burner, because even in my haze I know I should sterilize the blade, and there's no alcohol in the kitchen and I can't leave the kitchen because then I won't have the courage.
I wave the knife through the flame and then wait for it to cool. I press the blade against the soft flesh of my inner arm. A new place for a new pain. I start to slice--and then I violently hurl the knife across the room. It crashes into the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.
Everything is blurry now, and I realize I'm crying. I stand up and turn a circle in the kitchen. I'm lost--so fucking lost--and despite everything it's Damien that I want right now. Damien's arms around me, holding and comforting me.
No, no, goddammit, no!
I snatch the kitchen scissors off the drainboard, then retreat to the corner by the dishwasher. I slide down to the floor and without thinking, I take a chunk of hair and cut it off. Then another. Then another until there is a pile of hair around me.
I look at it, run my fingers through it. That hair my mother loves so much. That hair that Damien loves, too.
I pull my knees up to my chest and hug them tight. Then I put my head down and I sob.
I don't remember going to my room. I don't remember getting in bed. But when I open my eyes, Damien is beside me, his eyes sad and soft.
"Hey," he says.
Damien. My heart seems to swell and the blackness that's been clinging to me dissipates.
He reaches out and strokes my hair.
I sit up, remembering. My hair.
"It could use some cleaning up," he says gently. "But I think it looks cute short."
"Why are you here? How did you know?"
"Jamie," he says. "I've been calling her for days, checking on you. I thought you needed space. But then this, with your mother ..."
I nod, vaguely remembering Jamie tucking me into bed and me telling her that my mother had come by. I can't repress my shiver at the thought of seeing her again. "She's still here," I say. "In town, I mean."
"No," he says. "She's not."
I look at him.
"I went to her hotel. I told her she needed to leave. And then I sent her home on the jet." Amusement lights his eyes. "Grayson's been dying to take her out for a long flight, so this was just the ticket. And your mother seemed thrilled by the prospect of a private jet."
I stare at him with awed amazement. "Thank you."
"Whatever you need, baby. I told you."
I shake my head. "No. Damien, I'm sorry. I--we can't."
He stands, and though I expect anger on his face, all I see is concern. "Because of Sara?"
I don't meet his eyes.
"Oh, hell," he says, then sits back down on the side of the bed. He hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look at him. "Do you really believe I killed her?"
"No." The word comes out quickly and firmly and it's completely true. A tear rolls down my cheek. "Damien, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Shhh." He brushes my tears away. "It's okay. You're right. I didn't kill her. I wasn't even there that night. I was in San Diego. Charles finally got images from the hotel's security camera. I was in the bar most of the night talking with the owner of a company I was interested in acquiring. That's why he was so pissed that I settled. We had what we needed to shut Eric down, and I went and paid him off."
I sit up straighter. "I don't understand, either. Why would you--"
"Two reasons. Maybe I wasn't there, but dammit, I should have shut it down with Sara long before it got out of control. I wanted her interest in the company, and I got it. I bought out some other shareholders, too, which gave me a controlling interest. I edged Eric out and I put people in place who could get the company running again. Turned a tidy profit quite quickly and the value of everyone's stock increased, Eric's included."
I watch him, not sure where this is leading.
"And during all of this I was seeing Sara. I don't usually date, and I didn't love her. But I was busy and she was convenient and more than willing to indulge me in bed. She clung to me and though I didn't admit it to myself at the time, I started to see signs that she was unbalanced. I knew I needed to break it off, but I was focused on some time-sensitive mergers, and I just let it ride. After the deal was complete, I did end it. But that just pushed her off the deep end." He drags his fingers through his hair. "I never expected her to kill herself--and I would never choke a woman in bed--but that doesn't change the fact that I played a role."
"But it wasn't your fault," I say. "And Eric's making horrible accusations. Why would you pay that bastard off?"
"Because of you."
I gape at him. "What?"
"I was willing to fight him until the end of time if I had to. But that was before he approached you at the fund-raiser. I'm not letting him drag you into this, and I'm damn sure not letting him scare you."
I hug myself as goose bumps rise on my arms. I'm in shock; I'm humbled. Damien completely rearranged his plans because of his concern for me. "I--but, Damien. Twelve million dollars?"
"It's the current value of the stock I acquired from Sara, plus the value of Eric's stock. I bought him out. A damn good deal, too. The company's strong. I'll make it back."
"You didn't have to. I can fight my own battles."
He meets my eyes, and what I see in his is so much more than simple desire. It's need and longing. Maybe it's even love. "You can," he says simply. "But this wasn't your battle to fight."
He takes my hand. "Nikki, baby, I can't lose you."
I want to fold myself in his arms, but instead I turn away. "There's other stuff, Damien."
"I know," he says, and I turn back, surprised.
"You know?"
"Jamie told me. Apparently Ollie told her."
"Ollie?" Shit.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Don't worry. I won't say anything to Charles. Whatever confidences he betrayed, he did it for you. The bastard may have pissed me off, but I understand why he did it. I would have done the same."
"You had Kurt fired," I say.
"Hell yes, I did."
"Damien, you can't just do that to people."
"Actually, I can. He worked for one of my companies."
"But--" I cut myself off. The truth is I don't give a fuck what happens to Kurt, and the fact that Damien had his sorry ass fired doesn't really bother me. Not by itself, anyway. It's the rest of it.
"Nikki?" He's looking at me, his face open and vulnerable.
I reach out and stroke his cheek, the stubble of his beard scratching over my palm. The air between us is thick, and just touching him makes me feel alive. He's like a part of me, I think. Hell, he's like the air I need to breathe. And I need him. I need all of him. But I'm not as certain that he really needs me. "You're wrong about what you said. About me."
"What did I say?"
"You said I wasn't weak." I run a hand over my hair. "I am."
"Oh, baby, come here." I slide into his arms, and it feels like coming home. I press my head to his chest and listen to the rhythm of his heart. "Everyone breaks a little sometimes. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you wounded. And I will always be there to help you heal."
I release a shuddering breath as I pull back enough to look into his face. I can't imagine Damien breaking, but somehow I know that he's speaking from experience. Everyone breaks.
"Nikki," he says. "Baby, are we okay?"
I think about what my mother said about what I was throwing away, and I wonder if she's right. For the first time in my life, can my mother actually have something to offer me?
I close my eyes, because I don't want
her in my head. When I open them again, I see only Damien. "I want to make this work," I whisper, and the relief that I see in his eyes washes over me like a balm. "Is Jamie here?" I ask, because suddenly I'm thinking about the thin walls of the condo.
I see the hint of a frown. "No." He clears his throat.
I narrow my eyes, confused. "What?"
"This may not be the best time, but I have a confession."
I tilt my head and wait.
"Jamie's going to be getting a call from her agent soon."
"And you know this how?"
"Because it's for a series of national commercials. For a company I have an interest in." He's speaking gingerly, eyeing me as if he's afraid I'll explode.
"You did that for her?"
"For the company, actually. The ad agency presented us with three possible actresses and Jamie was the best of the bunch."
My smile stretches wide across my face.
Damien looks at me, baffled. "Why is that okay, but helping you get the job at Innovative wasn't?"
I grimace, because it's a legitimate point. "Because it just is," I say, then laugh.
He joins me, then brushes a soft kiss over my lips. "Nikki?"
"Yes?"
"I--" He stops, but not before I hear the tenderness in his voice. I close my eyes, imagining that he's told me he loves me. The word sounds right, and not terrifying at all.
"Don't ever leave me again," he says.
"No," I whisper. "How could I? I'm yours."
He rolls over until he's on top of me, then trails light kisses down my neck. "You said I have to be in control."
"Not really an astounding revelation, is it?"
He chuckles. "I'm giving it to you."
"Giving what?"
"Control, Nikki. Tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you want."
"You mean other than you?"
"Where do you want me to touch you? How slow? Shall I graze my teeth over your nipple? Shall I bite your ear? Shall I dip my tongue into your sweet cunt? Tell me, Nikki. Tell me what you want."
"Yes," I say, meaning all of that. "But start by kissing me."
He does, pressing his mouth softly to mine, then with increasing firmness. His tongue finds mine, stroking and teasing and I'm getting more and more turned on, even though he's doing nothing else. No touches, no caresses.
Damn the man, he meant what he said.
Gently, I break the kiss. "Stroke my breasts," I say. "Then pinch my nipples." I don't think I've ever drawn out a road map to making love, but with Damien I don't feel shy. "Tighter," I demand, then arch up as he twists almost to the point of pain. "Kiss me," I say. "All the way down until you get to my clit. I want your tongue there, and I want your fingers inside me."
He grins up at me. "Yes, ma'am," he says, then begins to slowly, torturously, work his way down my body. I'm trembling now with desire for him. The slightest touch of my body against the sheet brings me even closer to an orgasm. It's as if my entire body is an erogenous zone. And I want him there. I want him everywhere.
I gasp with the realization of what it is that I truly want tonight. And even though his tongue on my clit feels so, so good, I ease his head up, then pull him up to kiss my lips. I roll sideways so that we're spooning together, and then I take his hand and guide it to my ass. "Take me here," I whisper.
I feel his body tighten, the raw heat of him increase. "Are you sure?"
"I want to belong to you," I say. "I want to belong completely."
"Oh, baby." He eases me over so that I'm on my hands and knees on the bed. He strokes my cunt, getting his fingers slick with me, then takes a finger and eases it inside my anus. I gasp.
"Tell me if you want me to stop."
"No. No, it feels good."
And it does. His touch sends shocks of pleasure ricocheting through me.
"Have you ever?"
"No," I say. "Only you."
I hear his low growl of pleasure. "Do you have any lube?"
"In the drawer," I say, then feel his weight shift on the bed as he reaches for the small table. He opens a drawer and pulls out the bottle. He puts some on his fingers, then strokes me. I moan from the pleasure of it. "We'll take it slow," he says.
His mouth caresses my back. His fingers play with my clit. His cock teases my ass, and then I feel one finger slip inside me. I tense at first, then relax, overwhelmed by this new sensation.
"Okay?"
"Yes, please don't stop." I was going crazy from the pleasure. From the sensation of being so completely open to him. Of giving him something I'd never given anyone else. "More," I whisper. "I'm ready, but slowly."
Then the bulbous head of his cock is behind me. I feel how hard and stiff it is, and my hips rise without thinking. "Sweetheart," he murmurs. "Oh, baby." Gently, he eases inside me. I gasp, then quickly beg him not to stop.
"Easy," he says. "Slow and easy. God, Nikki, you feel so good." He's inside me now, moving in a gentle rhythm. The sensation of being completely filled with him is overwhelming, and I think I could come just from the feel of him inside me like this.
"Touch my clit," I say because he's taken his hand away. He complies, stroking in easy circles that match the rhythm of his thrusts, and Damien and I are more connected than we've ever been. He moves slowly, careful not to hurt me. His arm is around my hip, his hand stroking my clit, and my climax is building with his.
"I'm close, Nikki," he whispers. "Baby, I'm going to come."
His release is fast and hard, and as he comes inside me his hand presses against my clit, the extra pressure taking me over the brink as well. We collapse together, and he kisses my shoulder, my back, holding me close until our breathing slows. "You're mine," he says.
"I know," I reply, and I mean it completely.
I don't know what kind of favors Damien had to call in, but he gets me an appointment that evening at one of the best salons in Beverly Hills, and so I end up at dinner that night sporting a darling new haircut. Shoulder-length curls that bounce when I walk now that they're not weighed down by the length of all that hair.
I'm showered and shaved and sweet-smelling again. The dinner was to die for, and the chocolate torte is almost as good as an orgasm.
Best of all, I have Damien beside me.
Life is good again.
I take a sip of my white chocolate martini and then kiss the tip of his nose. "Ladies' room," I say. "I won't be long." I start to slide out, but he holds me back, then kisses me so hard and deep I almost melt into the booth.
"Hurry. I want to go home. I have plans for you."
"Get the check," I say.
"Are you finished with dessert?"
I let my gaze glide slowly over him. "Finished? I haven't even started."
I'm rewarded by the heat in his eyes, and I flash a coy smile before turning away and heading toward the back of the restaurant, letting my hips swing just a little as I move. My grin dies, however, when I hit the narrow hallway and see Carl coming.
"Well, if it isn't Nikki Fairchild. Hello, princess. You still fucking Damien Stark? Guess what? So am I."
I'd intended to brush right past him, but that stops me. "What are you talking about?"
"Skeletons," he says. "The kind that live in closets."
"I don't know what you mean." But I feel cold anyway.
"I'm just thinking about how high and mighty our Mr. Stark is. You land pretty hard when you fall from the stratosphere."
"Dammit, Carl, what are you telling me?"
"You? Not a goddamn thing. But tell loverboy I'll be in touch."
He walks away from me. I decide to skip the ladies' room and return to Damien. I give him a rundown of the conversation and watch his face grow hard.
"Do you know what he's going on about?" I ask, thinking about the abuse that he still hasn't told me about.
"No," he says. His voice sounds calm, natural. But there's a shadow in his eyes. That same coldness settles around me, and I'm afraid that he's going to sh
ut down and push me out. But then he draws in a breath and pulls me close. "Probably some shit to do with my father," he says. "Don't worry about it. I don't want either my father or Carl Rosenfeld to ruin our evening."
He pulls me close and kisses me hard, and I nod agreement. Right now, I don't want either of those men between us, either.
Back at the Malibu house, we make love slowly and sweetly, and I lose myself in Damien's touch, letting him erase all my fears and worries. In the shower, he soaps me down, gently stroking the cloth over all of me, then rinsing us both off until we feel clean and new. He wraps me in a towel and leads me back to the bed, then slides under the sheets with me.
He's on his side, looking at me, that enigmatic smile curving on his lips. I curl my fingers in his hair, holding him there, making sure there's nothing for him to see but me. "You're mine, too, you know," I whisper, and only when he says yes do I loosen my hold and draw his mouth down to mine.
I feel the change in his breathing as he falls asleep pressed close against me. I think about the skeletons and ghosts that still hide in the dark corners of Damien's past. I remember Eric Padgett's words. Secrets, he'd said, and I shiver, afraid that Damien's going to have to face that darkness. But I'll be there when he does, and we'll face the darkness together.
I can. Because when Damien's beside me, I'm no longer afraid of the dark.
To Shauna and Gina ... who know why.
Special thanks to Stefani, Kelly Jo,
and Kathleen for the early reads,
comments, and enthusiasm.
And thanks to the folks at Learjet,
the FAA, and Stars in Your Eyes
for so thoughtfully answering my
questions; any errors are my own.
PHOTO: KATHY WHITTAKER PHOTOGRAPHY
J. KENNER loves wine, dark chocolate, and books. She lives in Texas with her husband and daughters. Visit her online at www.jkenner.com to learn more about her and her other pen names, to get a peek at what she's working on, and to connect through social media.