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Our First Dance

Page 14

by Judy Lynn Hubbard


  “What have you done to me?” He wondered out loud against her hair. “I want you so much—all the time.”

  Maybe it was being home with her family and seeing how well he fit. Maybe it was his heartfelt words that emboldened her; she didn’t know. Suddenly, she had to admit what was in her heart. She didn’t think a more perfect time would ever present itself.

  “I love you, Damien.”

  She held her breath as she waited for him to say something—anything. Her solemn admission was met with silence—dead, deafening silence. The fingers that had been massaging her back froze. Her head rose from his chest to stare into his purposefully unreadable expression.

  His heart leaped in joy at her admission, before cold, unadulterated fear took its place. He wanted to reciprocate, but as always, trepidation of getting hurt as he had so long ago held him back.

  “Nothing to say?” She kept her voice light, almost playful, refusing to show how much his silence hurt.

  “Tasha, I care about you.”

  “But?”

  “But—” he turned away from the adoration shining from her eyes “—let’s not rush things.”

  “What have we been doing for the past month, Damien?”

  He slowly turned to face her again. “Enjoying each other.”

  An eyebrow arched. “Is that all?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “What do you want me to say?”

  “The truth,” she softly responded.

  “The truth is that I care about you.” He walked back toward her and placed his hands on her waist. “I don’t want another woman. I’m enjoying what we have, and I thought you were too.”

  He hoped that would be enough for her. It was all he was capable of right now. He wouldn’t allow himself to say the words she wanted to hear, although he feared they were there in his heart. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want to be hurt either. He bore physical as well as emotional scars attesting to the dangers of trusting and loving the wrong person.

  “I am,” she softly assured.

  “So can that be enough for now?”

  “Yes.” She leaned forward and kissed his lips lightly before continuing, “I believe in us, Damien, and I want you to believe too.”

  His fingers entangled in her silky tresses and pulled her lips back to his. “I believe this,” he growled before lifting her effortlessly into his arms and depositing her onto the bed, divesting himself of his robe and following her down.

  His hungry mouth and his body covered hers. He caressed her wildly, fiercely, and she reciprocated in turn. Focused hands pulled the gown and robe from her. Lips and hands feasted on her soft, fragrant flesh. She was unable to keep up with the fevered rush of his hands and lips against her, and she gave up trying, but her hands and mouth grew as demanding and aggressive as his.

  They both forgot they were in her parents’ home, and anyone could hear them as their fervent groans, demands and threats echoed throughout the room while they rolled over the mattress, limbs entangled. With a life of their own, their bodies joined and mated wildly, as they lost themselves in each other until they both reached the airless summit before spiraling back down to their only anchor—each other—as they clung tight and let themselves fall.

  * * *

  “I have to go, Damien.” The regretful words were whispered against his chest several hours later after Natasha glanced at the clock, which read a little after 4:00 a.m. “My mother and father get up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Mmm,” he groaned in protest, pulling her up until her face lay beside his on the pillow. His lips lowered to hers, tasting gently, softly caressing.

  “Damien, I have to go.” Her soft whisper turned to a sigh when his mouth opened warmly over hers.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he replied against her lips, hands gathering her soft, warm body closer. “Stay, just a little longer,” he murmured against her ear as he stretched out on top of her.

  “Baby, I can’t…” Her words were cut short as his body easily entered hers. “Oh, Jesus!”

  “Stay,” he repeated against her mouth as he began to move. “Stay for a little while.”

  “For a little while,” she surrendered on a sigh of ecstasy.

  Her clinging arms and legs held him tight. His mouth dammed her moans of pleasure as he took them flying once again.

  * * *

  “So how did you sleep?” Nicole’s eyes held a twinkle.

  “Very well.” Natasha sipped her juice. “And you?”

  “Not as well as you, I think.” Nicole winked at her, placing waffles and bacon onto her own plate.

  “Nicole—” she speared a golden waffle with her fork “—what are you hinting at?”

  “Nothing.” Nicole lowered her voice for her sister’s ears only. “I was excited to have you home, so I stopped by your room for a late-night talk, only to find you weren’t there.”

  Natasha’s expression remained innocent. “Perhaps I went for a walk.”

  “Perhaps you went for a ride,” Nicole quickly countered, smiling knowingly.

  “Actually, I was…” Her voice faded when she was unable to think up a convincing lie.

  “Relax, Tash.” Nicole winked conspiratorially. “If you hadn’t snuck into Damien’s room, I would be worried about you.”

  “If you tell Momma…” She stood and walked over to the coffeepot to fill her cup.

  “Tell me what?”

  “What she’s buying you for Christmas,” Nicole smoothly answered. “You’re going to love it.”

  “Not even a little hint?” Linda’s eyes brightened.

  “No, Momma, you’ll have to wait.” Natasha kissed her cheek before resuming her seat, silently making a mental note to find her mother something spectacular.

  Damien sauntered into the kitchen dressed in black jeans and a black sweatshirt. Natasha somehow resisted an urge to stand up and kiss him passionately. His eyes shifted to her mouth, and she knew he was contemplating doing the same thing.

  “Here, Damien, take my seat.” Nicole smiled as she moved to the chair across the table from her sister.

  “Thanks.”

  He returned her smile and sat down closely beside Natasha. Their thighs brushed lightly, but it was enough to send intense longing shooting through the core of their beings. They glanced at each other achingly before her mother interrupted.

  “Damien, I hope you intend to eat a big breakfast and not be a stingy eater like Natasha.” Linda shook her head at the single waffle and sparse scrambled eggs on her plate.

  “You can count on me, Mrs. Carter.”

  To prove his point, he placed waffles, eggs and bacon onto his plate, to her mother’s approving smile.

  “Good. Enjoy. Enjoy.” Linda smiled as she poured him a cup of coffee. “And call me Linda.”

  “I don’t know how you stay as slim as you are with food like this growing up.” He rolled his eyes appreciatively as he sampled a piece of waffle, followed by another and another. “Thank you, Linda.” He lifted his now-full coffee cup to his mouth.

  “Sheer willpower,” Natasha confessed.

  “Let me know when you want more, Damien,” Linda said and smiled.

  “I definitely will,” he promised, bringing a forkful of eggs to his mouth.

  “Momma’s mission is to feed the world,” Nicole teased.

  “You be quiet!” Her mother ruffled her short bangs before shaking her head sadly.

  “Oh, Momma, please not again,” Nicole and Natasha pleaded in unison, causing Damien to glance at them in confusion.

  “She doesn’t like Nicole’s new haircut,” Natasha whispered into his ear.

  “Oh, I see.” He forced himself not to react to Natasha’s nearness. “I think it suits you beautifully.”


  “Thank you.” Nicole absently smoothed her bangs back into place.

  “I don’t want to talk about it again.” Linda turned away from the table frowning and they stifled laughs behind their hands at her obvious angst.

  “Good morning, family,” her father happily bellowed as he entered the room. He pinched his daughter’s cheeks lovingly and slapped Damien on the back as if they were old friends.

  “Good morning, sir,” Damien responded between mouthfuls.

  “None of that sir business. Call me Lincoln. It’s good to see a man eat a healthy breakfast.” He walked over to kiss his wife, taking a steaming cup of coffee from her before returning and taking his seat at the head of the table.

  “You’re not going to eat all of that, are you?” Natasha balked as she eyed Damien’s full plate.

  “Every bite.” He crunched down on a piece of bacon.

  “Leave the boy alone, Tash,” her father scolded. “A man needs good food for energy.”

  After everyone was seated and had everything they needed, only then did Linda pour herself a cup of coffee and sit down at the opposite end of the table from her husband.

  “I see where Natasha and Nicole get their beauty from.”

  “Thank you, Damien.” Linda glanced proudly at her daughters. “They are lovely, aren’t they?”

  “Very.” Damien’s eyes lingered on Natasha.

  Natasha went purposefully silent for a while as she watched Damien effortlessly interacting with her parents and her sister. Sensing her appraising eyes, he turned to smile at her before turning to answer her father’s question. Her happy eyes connected with Nicole, who smiled at her, winked and secretly gave her a thumbs-up sign.

  Damien smiled as he intercepted Nicole’s message for her sister and, not the least embarrassed at being caught, she impulsively blew him a kiss. He smiled at her. He surveyed the people around the table. It was a warm and loving home, much like his. Natasha must have been very happy growing up here with siblings and parents who obviously loved each other very much.

  Much to his delight, from the moment he had met them, he had known they were down-to-earth, real people who didn’t put on airs or try to be something that they weren’t. They were his kind of people, so unlike most of the ones he met in his line of business—those who were always thinking of ways to use and get over—and so unlike the cold, unfeeling, viperous people who had raised an equally abhorrent child who had almost single-handedly destroyed his life—Mia.

  “Damien, are you ready to go?” Lincoln thankfully interrupted his thoughts, and at his positive nod, they both stood.

  “Go where?” The three women echoed together.

  “To your father’s studio to see some of his art.” Damien shoved his arms into his black leather jacket.

  “To his studio?” The same trio of voices echoed again.

  “Yes. Why so surprised?” Damien glanced into the three sets of wide eyes.

  “They will tell you that I’m very protective of my work space.” Lincoln shook his head in remonstration at his family. “But don’t listen to them. Anyone is welcome there anytime.”

  “That is a slight exaggeration,” his wife reprimanded. “You should consider yourself lucky to enter his private domain.”

  “I do now.”

  “Come, you will tell me what you think of my work.” Lincoln pinched his daughter’s cheek. “And I’ll tell you a few secrets about Tash.”

  “Deal.” Damien smiled in anticipation.

  “Daddy.” Natasha turned warning eyes on him. “You’re kidding, I hope.”

  “I’m definitely ready to go now.” Damien laughed.

  “Then follow me.” Lincoln opened the kitchen door.

  “Daddy…” Tasha warned.

  “We’ll see you women later.” He winked at them all before leading Damien out.

  “Momma, can’t you do something with him?”

  “I have tried, Tash.” She shook her head ruefully. “But what can be done?”

  “Nicole?” She turned pleading eyes on her sister.

  “Just pray he doesn’t reveal any really embarrassing moments.” Nicole patted her shoulder in commiseration.

  “You two are a great help.”

  She glanced worriedly at the closed door. Her mother and sister chuckled. She wondered what secrets her father was revealing and how she was going to withstand dying from embarrassment the next time she saw Damien.

  * * *

  “What’s gotten you so upset?”

  Natasha’s head jerked up from the piano keyboard. “Nothing. I’m not angry.”

  “I didn’t say you were angry.” Nicole walked over and leaned against the piano. “You always play this melancholy piece when you’re troubled.”

  “Nicole, I really don’t feel like talking.”

  “Since when has that ever stopped me?” Nicole laughed.

  “Never.” Natasha’s fingers stilled over the ivory-and-black keys.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Tash.”

  She sighed before admitting, “Last night I told Damien I love him.”

  “And?” Nicole sat beside her on the bench.

  “And nothing.” Natasha stood and stared out the bay windows. “He did say he cares about me.”

  “Well, that’s far from nothing, Tash,” Nicole corrected. “He is a man, and by nature of his gender, he has commitment issues.”

  “Yes.” Natasha smiled slightly. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Give him some time, Tash,” Nicole suggested, adding gently, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  “When did you become so philosophical?”

  “I guess I’m mellowing in my old age,” Nicole laughed.

  “Oh yes, your ripe old age of twenty-four,” Natasha scoffed.

  “Is he worth waiting for?”

  “Yes, he is,” she whispered without hesitation.

  “Then wait. You want to hear the words from him now, but does it matter if he tells you today or tomorrow, as long as he tells you? You two have all the time in the world to build a wonderful, lasting relationship, so don’t rush it.”

  Natasha smiled slightly. “How did you become so wise?”

  “Nathan and I take after Momma. You take after Daddy. Both of you are always too hotheaded to see things logically.”

  “Thanks!”

  “You’re welcome. Now stop borrowing trouble.” Nicole pulled her in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on, let’s go see what Momma is whipping up for lunch.”

  “Deal.” Natasha smiled as they walked off into the kitchen.

  * * *

  The time with her family passed by as it always did, much too quickly. They had been back in Manhattan for two days. After spending their days together at work, neither of them shied away from spending their nights together, either at her place or his, each finding it unbearable to be apart from the other for very long.

  “Mmm something smells good.” Damien sniffed the air appreciatively as he let himself into her apartment.

  “I hope it tastes good.” She came out of the kitchen at his voice and kissed him passionately.

  “You taste good,” he murmured against her lips.

  “It’s the lasagna.” She smiled, biting his chin lightly.

  “You made me lasagna?” He was touched she had made his favorite meal.

  “Yes, I made it last night, and all I had to do tonight was warm it up and make the salad,” she explained. “Go wash up and come to the table,” she ordered.

  He did as he was told and they sat facing each other at the table, where candles flickered gently and soft, romantic music played in the background.

  “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble for me.”
>
  “Nothing is too much trouble for the man I love.”

  Her response was quick and without the slightest hesitation, attesting to the veracity of her statement. It humbled him.

  “Tasha…”

  “That doesn’t require a response from you, Damien.” She smiled softly.

  He returned her smile. “Doesn’t it?”

  “No.” She reached across and took his hand. “Not until you’re ready to give one.”

  “Why are you being so understanding?”

  “Because—” she treated him to her most innocent smile “—I am a very understanding person.”

  He tried to hold back laughter, but it burst forth from him. Without hesitation, she joined in his good humor. He brought the back of her hand to his lips.

  “Tasha, you’re too much,” he said and chuckled.

  “Do you know what else I am?”

  “What?”

  “Patient.”

  “Yes, you are,” he easily agreed. “And may I say that’s an admirable trait.”

  “You may, indeed. In fact, you may compliment me all you like. I won’t complain.”

  He laughed and so did she. They talked about little inconsequential things as they ate—she concentrating more on her salad than lasagna. He complained to her about things that were still wrong with the ballet and bounced ideas for changes and improvements off her, seeming to really want and value her opinion. They were acting just like a normal, very happy couple, and she loved every second of it.

  “Well, how is it?”

  She anxiously awaited his reaction. He was on his second helping, but was he just being polite? Had she used too much basil? Not enough oregano?

  “Tasha, this is the best lasagna I’ve ever eaten,” he replied between mouthfuls.

  “Really?” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not just saying that?”

  “No.” He placed the last forkful in his mouth. “It’s great.”

  “Good.” She released her breath on an audible sigh. “I was worried.”

  “Why?” He took a drink of his wine.

  “I wanted you to like it,” she simply explained.

  “It’s fabulous.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “What’s even better is that after a grueling day at work, you came home and did this for me.”

 

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