by L. J. Woods
Sitting up, I say his name, squinting at the dark room, “Damien?”
He doesn’t answer and when I call again, I get nothing in return. After stirring in bed for a few moments, there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep without him. Pathetic, I know, but nothing puts me back to sleep like curling up on his broad chest, listening to his heart.
Climbing out of bed, I check the bathroom before heading into the hall. Willow’s asleep when I check the guest room, her mouth hanging open to the ceiling. Closing her door, I try again. “Damien?” Looking down the hall, there’s a light coming from under the office door, a musky stench in the air.
Weed.
Walking over to the door, his voice stops me.
“I can’t do that.” His voice is low, but Damien’s bassy croak makes it easy to hear his words. “You know I can’t do that. Is there anything else?”
Pushing on the knob, it’s open and when I look inside, Damien’s behind the desk. It’s dark in the room, no lights on besides the little lamp by his arm. When the door creaks, he looks up.
“Let’s discuss this later,” he says before he pulls the phone from his ear, his eyes roaming my frame in his shirt. “What are you doing up, Rowland?”
“Could ask you the same question,” I reply, remembering to breathe now that he’s in front of me again.
“Couldn’t sleep.” A glass of something amber hangs from his fingers in one hand, a joint in the other. Something tells me these aren’t his first.
“And now, neither can I.”
He’s had trouble sleeping all week but he usually stays by my side, awake or not. He catches my glare before a smirk pulls at his lips.
Scratching at my tangled curls I make my way over to the desk, dried wax still on the top. “I thought I was your sleeping aid.” His eyes are on my tits when I lean over to steal his joint.
Looking around the room, I notice some more changes. He switched the chandelier to something a little more modern. Same with the old wooden decor, now all black, making the room look dark and sleek. Like him.
Reaching for my hand, he pulls me all the way around to his lap. “Why? You need me to put you back to bed?” His finger trails my neck to my chest, tugging on the collar of the shirt.
“Not without you.” Leaning into his chest, it scares me how much I’ve come to crave his touch, his comfort. He’s the only reason I’ve been able to sleep. If that isn’t a sign I need therapy I don’t know what is, but for now, he’s my therapy. “Who were you talking to?”
His eyes flash to his phone before he looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “Eavesdropping again?”
“No.” But now I’m suspicious. “Why? Did I miss something?” He shifts in his seat, his fists clenched, an uneasy look on his face. Seems like I did. “Who was that?” I try to read the look in his eyes, that scowl on his face before I pry. “You can tell me anything, Damien. Your deepest secret. Your darkest thought. If I wanted to run by now I would’ve.”
He lets out a breath, his eyes wandering my face and it gives me the tingles all over again. “Craig.”
“Carson?”
Nodding, he reaches for the drink behind me, pulling it to his lips. “I had your stupid voice in my head telling me not to give up.” I excuse him for calling it “stupid” before I steal his drink. “So I didn’t.”
“And?”
“It didn’t work.” Taking the drink from my fingers, he knocks it back before refilling it.
“What about—”
“Forget it.”
“But what if you—”
“Jo, I said forget it!” His growl makes my body stiffen but he keeps me locked on his lap. “Don’t you get it? It was a pathetic fucking display on behalf of my company and I’m the one in charge. Nothing changes the fact that I ruined the future at King Financial because of a girl.”
“Okay, woah!” Pushing from his hold, I stand to my feet, ignoring the stiffy in his pants. “I sacrificed a hell of a lot for this too, Damien.”
“Like what? Your company? Your family fucking legacy?”
“How about my goddamn sanity?” My voice fills the room, so loud it gives me goosebumps. Damien cocks a brow like he’s only the least bit fazed before I take a breath, careful to not wake Willow. “Fuck this.”
When I make my way towards the door, I hear him rise out of his seat, his footsteps coming towards me. “What’re you gonna do, Rowland? Runaway again? Split when shit gets rough like a goddamn coward? I don’t see you trying to fix this, Jo. I don’t see you on the phone at two in the morning trying to keep the fucking lights on.”
Before I reach the door, his words make me whip around. “Who are you? My father?” I scoff, glancing at the ceiling while Damien slows, striding towards me with his eyes low like he’s trying to threaten me in the school hallway. “The lights on? You have money coming out of your ass! And coward? Look in the fucking mirror.”
“Watch your mouth, Rowland,” he growls, his chest coming close to mine, looking down at me with that ice-cold gaze. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
“Like what?” My back hits the door, his hard chest to my tits. “Like I love you and I hate what you’re becoming because of this? Don’t make me the villain because you lost your company or you’ll lose me too.”
BANG!
Damien’s hand hits the door right by my head. “You say you love me but you’re threatening me? Ain’t that a load of shit.”
“I’m saying, you’re as weak as your dad thought you were if you make me the enemy because you lost a business deal.” I meet his eyes, his lips close to mine. “Now let me go.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, his eyes dropping to my lips. “Are you as hard as I am?”
“What?”
He presses his hard cock into me, the fabric pressing against my clit. “Give me some time, Rowland.” He parts my leg with his knee, kissing down my neck, his breath landing on my skin. “Losing this company feels like losing him. My dad.”
“You’re saying that with your cock against me?”
“It’s about to be in you if you forgive me,” he growls in my ear. “Give me time.” With his hands cupping my ass, he pulls my legs around him and with his lips on my neck, it’s easy to feel like I’m floating.
“Time?” I murmur, mesmerized in his hold.
“Mhm,” he groans. “And speaking of time, it’s time I take you back to bed.”
Whipping me around, he gets a squeal before we’re tumbling down the hall and bursting through our bedroom door.
He’s right. We’re animals.
We fight like it, and we fuck like it too.
* * *
Calculus is bullshit.
I rather stare at a hundred dick pics than stare at this board filled with numbers and equations I don’t understand.
I’m in class a few weeks later when my phone buzzes on my desk and I’m hoping I wished a dick pic into existence.
I’m also hoping it’s Damien’s.
I won’t get my hopes up. Damien hasn’t been the Damien I’m used to. He’s there when I get home and in the morning and he doesn’t run off to business meetings but it’s like something is missing.
Like he’s empty.
He doesn’t fall asleep with me by his side unless I smoke him out or give him a heavy dose of booze. Or sex. And while he says he loves me every day, I can’t help but think he lost something else he loves. Damien says to give him time, and unlike him, I’m trying to be patient. But I don’t know how long that will last.
Reaching for my buzzing phone, I pull it in my lap so my teacher doesn’t see.
Unknown: Want to save ur bfs company?
Glancing around the room, I don’t see anyone else on their phone before I text back.
Jo: Who is this?
The response is quick.
Unknown: Craig
A breath escapes my lips, my back hitting the chair when I realize it’s not someone threatening.
Is it?
&nb
sp; After saving his number, his next text confirms it.
Craig: So? Do u?
I don’t know how he got my number but if he’s reaching out, maybe he knows something that will help push “time” along. Or I’m fucking stupid. It’s likely the latter.
Jo: What is it?
Craig: :) Meet me @ The Steam Room after school. Dont bring Damien
My eyes narrow at the screen.
Jo: Why? And wtf is the steam room?
Craig: If u want to help, Steam Room. 3 pm. C u. xoxo
When I text back, he doesn’t answer but there’s no chance I’m focusing on Calculus now.
What does he want with me?
What does he know that Damien can’t know?
I spend the rest of the day thinking about it. All through my swim class, damn near drowning in all the possibilities of what Craig could know.
Does he know about Marion?
Re-reading the texts after school while I’m in front of my locker doesn’t help. It’s hard to trust Craig when his dad is suing King up the ass, but it’s getting harder to see another option.
“Scandal?” Nate slows his stride when he passes by, Carlos beside him. “You look paler than Kristen Stewart on a red carpet.”
“C’mon, Nate,” Carlos wines. “We’re running late.”
“The only reason I’m going to this campus tour is for you. Compromise, babe.” Nate kisses Carlos on his cheek and Carlos rolls his eyes. “What’s wrong, Scandal?”
Ignoring the nickname he’s sticking with, I ask, “You sure you wanna know?”
“You helped Allie in the biggest way possible,” Nate reminds me, moving closer. “Consider my upcoming advice karma. Now shoot.”
After a quick second to consider telling him the whole truth, I decide on something else, his word echoing. “Compromise,” I repeat. Nate arching a brow.
“Uh huuh.” He glances at Carlos. “It’s what you do when you’re in love.”
“Even if it’s something you don’t want to do?”
Nate looks behind him, Carlos looking over what looks like a university campus map. “Especially if it’s something you don’t want to do. Now c’mon, gimme the tea.”
Fuck. With my head falling back against the locker I thank him. “That’s perfect.”
Nodding, he brushes invisible dirt off his shoulders. “Well then, you’re welcome.” He smiles. “Thanks again for helping Allie out when I was … preoccupied. I’d say you owe me one too but consider us even.”
“Thanks, Nate,” I say but I’m already way too distracted. With a pat on my shoulder, he takes off down the hall, leaving my chin to the ceiling.
Compromise.
Fine.
Pulling my phone to my face, I send Damien a text.
Jo: Going to Allie’s after class.
His response is almost instant like he’s waiting by his phone.
Damien: y?
I’m hoping this thing with Craig doesn’t take longer than an hour.
Jo: Exam prep. Be home by 6. Order dinner.
Damien: U r my dinner
That last text makes me smile, reminding me that we can go back to whatever our normal is without Damien’s failed business looming over us. So if I have to be the one to fix it. I will.
A text to Willow tells me she’s with Bella and Jordan again and after calling an Uber, I’m in Ancaster in twenty minutes. That makes me ten minutes early for … whatever this is with Craig.
Turns out, The Steam Room is a small cafe at the edge of town, near the border. Not a strip club like I’d thought. It’s as fancy as Cindy’s. Lavish and over-the-top. White sofas and gold tables mix with smooth jazz and the strong smell of beans. My eyes fall on Craig sitting at a white leather booth near the back, a bronze lamp hanging above him.
He’s early too. When I walk over, still in my uniform and boots, some eyes turn my way.
“Jo,” Craig greets, leaning back in his seat. He’s not wearing a sweater-vest but he is wearing another turtleneck. His beige slacks stick out from under the table when he gestures to the open seat in front of him. “I ordered you a coffee. Black, right? Or do you want some molly with that?”
“What do you want, Craig?” I ask, pushing the white mug forward as I take a seat. “Why are we here? What do you know and why do you wanna help us?”
“You’re quick to fire, Jo,” he chuckles. “Thought we were friends before you threw me under the bus. Too bad it didn’t work.” Narrowing my eyes, he sits up, meeting my gaze. “One night.”
“What?” He’s making as much sense as Isaac’s outfits.
“One night. You and me.”
Okay, he’s definitely on something. “You can’t be serious. Did the molly go to your head?”
He smiles and while it’s good enough to be in a commercial, I’m not interested in whoring myself out. Not with Craig Carson. “Dead serious, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
“And I’m the only option King’s got.” Pushing his fingers through his gelled back blonde strands, he smiles as if he’s pleased with himself. “And it’s my only offer or King can kiss his business good-bye for good. My dad and his lawyers plan to clobber him and take him for everything he’s worth. Including whatever savings he has tucked aside.”
“You’re asking me to be your one-night-stand?” My fists clench under the table, gripping at the hem of my kilt. “Are you that desperate, Craig?”
Rising from his seat, he brings his cup to his lips. “No. But you might be. Think about it. You have my number.”
“How’d you get my number anyway?” I call after him.
He turns around, walking backward to the door. “Who do you think?”
Eighteen
Damien
“King?”
There’s a twitch in my pants at the sound of her voice, but I’m hearing it way too late.
It’s just past eight when Jo flicks the light on in the foyer. I’ve been in my spot on the sofa in the dark living room for the last three hours. The longer she took, the emptier this bottle got. Pulling it to my lips, sweet bitterness washes over my tongue, the conversation with Craig spinning in my head.
“Name your price, Carson.”
“Jo.”
It makes me take another gulp, thinking about how it took the prick a half-second to have her name come flying out his mouth.
“Not a fucking chance, Carson. You take all Johnson’s stash or are you normally this stupid?”
“Guess you’re not the businessman we thought you were. Say goodbye to your company, King.”
“Damien?” Jo flicks on the light, eyes squinting at the sudden change in brightness. With those same narrow eyes, I give my girl a once over. Her uniform is still in place, no crinkles, no crumples. Her hair doesn’t look a mess like it usually does when I’m done with her. “What’re you doing in the dark?”
She walks over, her boots thudding against the wood, the smell of coconut coming with her. When she sits beside me she flips her hair over her shoulder in a way that makes me want to ravish her.
But I have one pressing question. “Where were you?”
No answer and when I look over she’s wiggling that leg, chewing her cheek. Fuck. Taking another swig, I give her another second to answer before I make her.
“Craig.” Her answer propels my arm, bottle flying across the room, smashing against the wall. Her head whips to me, eyes wide. “Relax! Nothing happened!”
My hand comes to her throat, pressing her back against the sofa, chin to the ceiling. I want to believe her, but the thought of Craig getting my girl alone, the thought of his hands anywhere near her makes me want to hurt something. Anything.
“You met up with him?” I growl, her pulse beating against my thumb before I loosen my grip. Bringing myself closer to her face, there’s a worry in her eye. Fear. “Then you lied to me?”
“You wouldn’t have let me go.” She meets my gaze with those golden eyes. Fighting what it does
to my stomach, that distracting tightness, I bore my gaze into her. “He said he knew how to get your business back.”
Yeah, I bet he did.
“Did he touch you?” Pushing her face to the side, I’m looking for any signs. I don’t trust the Carsons. Not one bit. Especially when they’re taking my company and using my girl to dangle it in front of me. It makes me angry. Savage. And now I need to remind Jo who runs this shit.
“No!”
I hear her but my mind is one-track. Pushing her chest so she lays her back against the sofa, she doesn’t fight it. No pushback, no protest. That makes me wonder if it’s guilt or that undeniable lust-filled craving for what belongs to her too.
Her lip slides behind her teeth when I spread those legs, getting between them. When I’m close to that heart-shaped pout that’s too fucking delicious to ignore, she confesses. “He asked for one night.”
Fucker.
Pushing my hip against hers, I sink my teeth into the soft skin of her neck and I’m hoping to leave a mark. “And what did you say?” I growl into her skin, my fingers warm and wet from her folds. “This better be for me, Medusa.”
“I said nooo—fuck.” Her words become a breathy moan when my fingers push into her, my mouth moving down her neck, my lips brushing against her quick pulse. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why?” I demand, plunging my fingers deep until they’re buried to my knuckles. Her back arches when I hit that spot, my fingers hitting her wall. She leans up, reaching for my belt.
“I want you,” she moans but I push her back, my grip going back to her neck so she knows who’s in charge. Me.
“Why?” I ask again, my fingers pumping in slow, hard, thrusts. My thumb swirls over her soaking clit while I watch the look on her face. Her mouth open wide, her eyes begging to close but she knows the drill. “Why wouldn’t you do that?”
“Be-because—fuck, King, because I love you,” she moans. “Now fuck me you jealous prick.”
My hand rises from her neck to her face, pushing my thumb in her pretty little mouth. “Why?”
She can hardly speak when I pull my fingers out to the tips before I push them back in, curling my fingers when I hit her wall.