“I want to meet your parents. If they created you, they’re amazing.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or teasing. “Do you seriously want to meet my parents?”
“Yes, I want to meet them.” He rubs his hand from my ribs to my thigh, settling his palm on my hip.
“We can have lunch with them on Sunday. Or, you can wait and meet them at my graduation. You’ll come, won’t you?”
He nods. “I’ll be there, and Sunday sounds great. Call them and make the arrangements. I’m happy to treat everyone to lunch.”
“You don’t have to take anyone to lunch. My mom will insist on fixing something. I can imagine what they’ll say when I bring home a man.”
“Haven’t you brought a man to your parents’ house before?”
“Yes, but it was over a year ago, and it was just a drive-by. I don’t bring men home to meet my parents. It gives them the wrong impression. Warning, we’ll have to set them straight as soon as we get there, or my mom will have me walking down the aisle.”
His face goes from curious to concerned, then back to something resembling humor. He pulls me toward his chest, so my face presses against him. I inhale his scent; he’s spicy, with undertones of lavender and cedar—intoxicating and sensual.
My hand covers his heart, and the pace speeds at my touch and taps out a steady cadence different from the one a few moments ago. I recognize it as his “I’m ready again” rhythm.
“Again? Already?”
“I told you we’d make love all night.”
He rolls us both over and braces himself above me. The darn man delivers on his promise to make me scream his name.
I don’t have a chance with him. I try my hardest to stay neutral and not fall in love, but it’s impossible. I tumbled headfirst and failed to break my fall. Someday soon, I’ll land, and it will hurt.
What Damon and I share is much more than sex. It feels like love, but that’s impossible because Damon loves no one.
Chapter Twenty
“Are you doing okay?” he asks
“Never felt better.” My body aches, but my heart is full.
He rolls off the bed and strolls to a large walk-in closet, coming back with a long-sleeved dress shirt and a robe for me.
“Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Let’s eat. Dinner is probably dry and awful, but it’s sustenance, and you’ll need it for tonight.”
I take the shirt and put it on. It falls mid-thigh with the sleeves hanging past my hands by six inches.
He stands naked in front of me and buttons me up, leaving the top three undone. “I think this shirt will be my favorite from now on,” he says. When he’s done, he kisses me on the nose.
At his chest of drawers, he pulls out a pair of sweatpants. As he steps into them, every muscle in his torso flexes when he lifts his legs into the body-hugging fabric. The soft cotton clings to him, like a jealous lover, making me envious of those sweatpants.
“What are you thinking about?”
“How nice it would be to be your sweatpants.”
He laughs and takes a last lingering look at the bed before leading me out of his room.
“We need to get out of here immediately, or we may never leave,” he says.
I follow him downstairs and into the enormous kitchen.
He opens the oven and pulls out what appears to be chicken Kiev. It’s dry but still edible.
“Where are the dishes? I’ll set the table.” Looking around, I ask, “Do you want to eat at the island or the table?”
He directs me to the dishes and silverware, and we sit at the island.
I serve up the chicken while he pulls a pre-made salad from the refrigerator. We each take a seat and eat in silence. I’d give him all my pennies for his thoughts.
“We were talking about firsts earlier, but we got distracted. What are your other firsts with me?” he asks.
“I already said the orgasms, so that one’s covered. I’ve never given or received oral pleasure, so that’s another. I’ve never fooled around in unconventional places like a restaurant booth or an executive office. You’re a bad influence. You’ve ruined me, and I’ll never be good for anyone else now that I’ve had you.”
His expression turns from happy-go-lucky to serious. Tension sits in the air like thick fog.
“What’s wrong?”
He stares at me—almost through me. There’s something brewing inside him. He pours two glasses of wine and drains his in one gulp.
I reach over to hold his hand, but he avoids my touch and instead grasps the bottle and fills his glass again. I have no idea what changed his mood, but he’s brooding over something. His eyes are no longer alight with passion but clouded with pain.
“Would you like more wine?” he asks.
His question is an attempt to avoid dealing with the issue at hand, whatever that may be.
“No,” I respond. No longer feeling blissful but soiled by his sour mood, I say, “I’d love answers, and if I can’t have those, I’ll take a shower.”
He turns the wineglass in circles and watches the liquid move. “You can use my bathroom. Do you remember how to find it, or do you need me to show you?”
“I can find it.” I jump off the stool and turn to leave but stop. “Whatever just happened here wasn’t warranted. Whoever you’re thinking about. Whoever you’re mad at, I’m not her.”
My statement catches him off guard, but I don’t wait for him to reply. I walk to the hallway, grab my bag, and stomp up the stairs. I can be mad too.
Now that I’m alone in his bedroom, I take a few minutes to look around. I didn’t get to truly see anything earlier because he distracted me. For the first time, I see the dark furniture and luxurious bedding that is posh but masculine with its brown and gold palette. I didn’t notice the wall of glass. His house sits so far up in the canyon, it’s like sitting in a tree house. Maybe it reminds him of his father and brother and the beloved tree house they built and shared.
The bathroom is unbelievable, with a shower made to hold no less than ten people. Heads and jets spray from every wall. There’s even a button for steam. It takes a few minutes to figure out how to turn everything on, but I finally get the water adjusted and climb into a new experience.
The jets are set for Damon’s height, so a lot of the water shoots over my head, but the heat and steam relax my muscles as I sink against the far wall. One side of the shower contains a bench, and on it is a wide selection of body washes and shampoos. Looking through them, I find the least manly of the bunch and lather up.
“Can I wash your back?”
His voice startles me, and I spin around to see him.
“I’m sorry.” The whispered apology drips with sincerity. He wraps his arms around me, and he tugs me close.
“You don’t have to be sorry, but we need to talk about whatever takes you to that place. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone there.”
He sits on the bench and pulls me to his lap. We sit together as the water pours over us and prunes our skin. My head leans lazily against his shoulder as he cradles me in his arms. When the water runs cold and I shiver, he rises with me in his arms, turns off the water, and carries me out of the shower.
Setting me down on the soft rug, he rushes to the linen cabinet, pulls out a large bath towel, and drapes me in it. He has a second one he wraps around his waist.
I have a hard time separating this man from the angry one in the kitchen. If I’m honest, that man rarely shows up, but when he does, it is an unsettling experience.
We move to the glass wall in the bedroom and take a seat on the overstuffed chairs. The stars light up the night sky.
“I can’t imagine you with another man,” he says.
I’m jolted from my peaceful moment and catapulted back to the here and now.
“You don’t have to picture me with another man. I’m here with you.” I reach for his hand.
“You are now, but what about tomorrow or next
week or next month?”
“Damon, you made it clear you were not ready for a relationship. You wanted to start slow. We agreed to take it one kiss at a time.”
“We are way beyond kisses, Katarina. The minute I sank myself into you, everything changed. I don’t know why, but it did, and I need to know you’re mine.”
I leave my chair and climb onto his lap. “I’m yours if that’s what you want. Is that what you really want?”
“I want you, and I’m ready to move forward. You brand me with your kisses. You mesmerize me with your laughter. You astonish me with your candor. And you completely paralyze my heart with your ability to love.” He plays with a stand of my wet hair. “A while back, you told me I was lovable and worthy, and I didn’t agree. I still don’t think I deserve your love, but I want it. I need it.”
Tears pool in my eyes. His words are heartfelt and earnest, and my heart somersaults in my chest.
“Don’t cry.” He wipes my tears and muffles my sobs with a kiss. “I never want to make you cry.”
“They’re good tears. I never expected those words to come out of your mouth.”
“I guess there’s hope for me yet,” he says with a small smile. “It’s getting late. Are you ready to go to bed?”
His strong arms carry me to the massive bed, where he lays me on the soft sheets and slides next to me. His chin sits comfortably above my shoulder with his breath tickling my neck, sending small shivers down my spine. I know his intent is to climb into bed and sleep, but having him next to me makes that damn near impossible.
We make love once more before sleep pulls us under.
Chapter Twenty-One
Light pours through the windows, and like a cat, I stretch, causing every muscle to cry out in rebellion. Damon lies next to me, head propped on his elbow, hair mussed up, and ready for more.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead. How long have you been up?”
“Less than an hour.” He brushes his thumb across my lips. “Watching you sleep is my new favorite pastime.” He kisses my forehead, then nose, and finally my lips. “I made coffee. Do you want some?”
“Sure. I can get it.”
He rolls over and picks up a white carafe from the nightstand.
“I’ve got it. Black with a dash of cream, right?”
“How do you remember? We only had coffee together a few times.”
“It’s all in the details.” He pours and doctors a cup. “Once you have coffee, I’ll fix you breakfast. I make a mean omelet.”
He hands me the cup and slides back into bed next to me.
“Are you worn out?” His eyes are alight with a fiery passion.
“Not enough to stop.”
“Oh, my girl is insatiable.”
“Your girl is hungry.”
“Come on.” He climbs out of bed and starts for the door. “You can’t live off sex alone.”
No, but I’m willing to try.
Damon makes an excellent omelet that we enjoy on the deck out back. The view of the canyon is breathtaking. It’s hard to believe we’re only twenty minutes outside the city.
After cleaning up our dishes, I get a tour of the house. It spans three floors, each containing a large deck. As we enter the theater, I’m amazed at how much it looks like an actual cinema. There’s a concession stand with a popcorn machine and a glass case that contains everything from Whoppers to Sour Patch Kids.
“The movie came yesterday.”
“How did you do that? You must have some incredible connections.”
“It’s true what they say, that it’s not always what you know, but often who you know that’s more important. I was thinking we could invite Anthony and Emma if you want.”
“Is it okay if we don’t this time? This is our first weekend together, and I don’t want to share you with anyone.”
“It’s a deal, but don’t forget to call your parents about tomorrow. Sadly, I already told my mother we’d stop by after lunch for a quick visit today. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course, it’s okay. What time are we going there?”
“Not for a few hours. We have time for other things if you’re interested.”
“You can persuade me to do other things.”
Damon and I spend the next two hours making love on every surface we could lie on, kneel on, or stand on. Nothing was exempt. We started downstairs on the pool table and ended upstairs on the kitchen counter, with lawn chairs, desks, and benches in-between. When we couldn’t take any more, we dragged our sore bodies up the stairs and got ready for the visit with his mother.
Unpacking my bag, I pull out the red scarf and set it on the bed. Damon looks at the scarf. “We’ll need that later.” The way he says it makes me warm all over. He walks to the corner and picks up my black stilettos. “We’ll need these, too.”
Heat rushes from my chest to my face.
“Don’t worry, I know your boss, and I can get him to cut you some slack if you need a day to recover.” He winks, then goes to the bathroom to prepare our shower.
We take a long, leisurely shower, enjoying the simple pleasure of lathering and rinsing each other. He washes my hair and detangles it with his conditioner.
Stepping out, we dry one another before he reaches for my brush and pulls it from my crown to the ends. I’ve never had a man brush my hair—it is another first and feels so much better when someone else does it. The bristles of my brush massage my scalp as he gently strokes the tangles free.
“Your hair is soft and silky and always smells good.” He lifts my wet hair and brings it to his nose. “Now you smell like me.”
“Which is good because you smell amazing too. What cologne do you wear?”
“Something from D & G that my mom gives me every Christmas.”
“I like it.”
He dresses and excuses himself to take care of emails and phone calls while I spend the next thirty minutes getting ready to visit his mom.
We arrive around one o’clock, and Rose has hugs for both of us and a kiss for Damon.
“It’s so good to see you two together again.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” What I want to say but can’t is we’ve been inseparable since yesterday.
Keeping my thoughts in my head and away from my mouth, I follow Damon to the courtyard, where Rose set out iced tea and snacks.
Damon guides me to the settee and grins when he sees how slow I sit. Next to me, he lifts my hand and places it in his lap.
His mother misses nothing and smiles warmly at the show of affection.
“Damon, be a good son and go to the cellar to grab a bottle of the Italian wine you like so much. I want to send it home with Katarina.”
He eyes his mom but does her bidding. Before he turns the corner, he says, “Behave yourself.”
Rose laughs at his attempt to censure her.
“I knew the day I met you, you’d be good for him. He’s being a gentleman, right? I ask because he can be pushy and demanding.”
“He’s always a gentleman, patient, and accommodating.”
“Really? You must make him happy. It’s been entirely too long since I’ve seen him carefree and content. Those other girls drove me nuts. I know one of them is your roommate, and she’s pleasant enough, but all the other girls were mere distractions.” She looks over her shoulder in the direction Damon disappeared. “He’ll be back soon, but I wanted to let you know how happy I am you two are seeing one another. Don’t let him bully you. He’ll try but push back. The Noble men are strong and stubborn, which means you need to be stronger.”
“What’s this about stubborn, Mother?” Damon arrives carrying a bottle of merlot.
“Your mother said that stubbornness runs in your family, and I told her I hadn’t seen that trait yet, but I’ll be on the lookout for it.”
“In my twenty-nine years, I’ve learned one thing, and that’s you don’t argue with a group of women. It never goes well.”
“Smart man,” I reply.
“Tell me how things are going with the new club?” Rose asks.
He gives his mom the details about the last-minute fixes and extravagant opening night festivities. He proudly tells her what a great job I’ve done with the gift bags, making me feel good about my accomplishment.
“Do you like working at Noble, Katarina? Is it everything you thought it would be?”
I look at him, then back at Rose before I answer.
“It’s turned out to be more than I could have hoped for. I finish my internship there the week of the opening. It’s been a great experience, and I’ve learned so much from Trevor. I’m sure everything I’ve worked on will help me find a permanent job.”
“I’m confident you’ll do well in the job market,” she says. “What else do you have planned for the weekend?”
I look at Damon because I don’t know what we have planned.
“Katarina and I are doing a little shopping, then dinner, and a movie. Tomorrow, we’re having supper with her parents.”
Rose’s eyes grow in surprise, then a smile spreads across her face.
“That sounds wonderful.” She points to my bag. “Put my number in your phone, so you can call me next week, and we can meet for lunch.”
“Katarina has lunch with me,” Damon says in a purely possessive manner.
“Nonsense, you can live without her for a day.” Rose recites her number, and I plug it into my phone before we’re off.
He drives a few blocks down the street, then turns left. Halfway down the block, he pulls into a driveway where a large white colonial house sits in the center of an enormous lot. It’s hard to believe anyone still owns space like this in Los Angeles.
“Where are we?”
“We’re at my childhood home. Follow me. I want to show you something.”
He takes my hand and leads me around the side of the house to the backyard.
In the center is a massive oak tree with the coolest tree house I’ve ever seen. There are several levels, each attached with ladders and ropes. Tattered blue curtains blow in the breeze.
“Come and look. This is where I spent nearly all my childhood.”
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