I can’t believe we’re sneaking into someone else’s tree house. “If we get caught, I’m placing all the blame on you.”
“Fine.” He takes my hand and, like an excited kid, tugs me toward the tree house.
I want to say no, but I feel his excitement, and he’s sharing an intimate part of his life with me, so I forge on.
He reaches down and removes my heels before he places my hands on the ladder and climbs up behind me. We take one rung at a time, with him nipping at my behind. Once at the top, I’m in awe of the place. A kid could get lost up here.
It’s a fantasy come true. There are spyglasses and a telescope. In the corner is a treasure chest full of who knows what.
Wooden benches line one side. He guides me to it and forces me to sit. He kneels in front of me and glides his hands up my thighs. The action lifts my dress high on my legs.
“Damon, stop. This house belongs to some kid. As enticing as it sounds, I don’t want to get caught with my pants down up here.”
“Relax, Angel, this house belongs to me, and it’s on my list of places to take you. I want you, and I want you here.”
How can I say no to that? The man has a fantasy of making love to me in a tree house. Who am I to crush his dreams?
It doesn’t take long for both of us to find our pleasure.
I lean back and look at the ceiling. Carved into the plywood above my head are three sets of initials: SN, RN, and DN.
He follows my line of sight. “Lots of childhood memories.”
As we pull out of the driveway, I reach over to take his hand.
“How many girls did you bring up to that tree house when you were a boy?” I ask teasingly.
“None. Girls weren’t allowed Not even my mom has been in it. There are three sets of initials on the ceiling. They’re the only people who’ve been there: my dad, my brother, and me. You’re the first girl up there as long as you don’t count the scores of Penthouse magazines stashed in the treasure chest.” He squeezes my hand. “When we have more time, I’ll take you on a tour of the main house.”
“Why do you keep the house if you won’t live in it?”
“It’s a house built for a family, not for a bachelor. I keep it because I can’t let go. I’m not ready yet.”
I don’t pry. We all have things we’re not ready to let go of. I still have a collection of Barbies and also kept the collar to the first dog we ever had. Bubbles passed away when I was fifteen, but I could never part with that collar.
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping for underwear.”
“What do you have against mine? If you take them, someone will see my goodies.”
“No one is allowed to see your goodies but me, which is why we’re buying an obscene amount of underwear. That way, I won’t feel bad when I’m compelled to keep a pair or two or three.”
The thought makes me wiggle in my seat.
“Stop squirming, or I might take a detour.”
“Aren’t you tired of me yet?”
“Never. Are you tired of me?”
“Nope. I’m just getting started with you, Mr. Noble.”
Damon takes me to an exclusive lingerie shop on Rodeo Drive. He insists on watching me while I try everything on. I walk out of the store with two bags of tiny strips of fabric. They cover very little, but it doesn’t matter because they won’t last a second with him around.
“Now where?”
“You gave me an idea. I want to try something out.”
“Shall I say goodbye to the underwear I have on?”
“Most definitely.” He speeds toward our destination. As we pull into the garage at Ahz, I can only imagine what he has planned.
We enter, and Damon has a discussion with security. His smile is so big. I can’t imagine what he has envisioned, but whatever it is, it makes him happy.
Eventually, I find myself on the sixth floor with the music playing and the lights flashing. We hold each other and dance to the sounds of K-Ci and JoJo as the song All My Life plays through the sound system.
“I stare at the floor below us. Damon, people can see me.”
“Shh. No one can see you. Security has cleared the building, and they shut off the security feed. It’s private. Come here. I want to dance with my girlfriend on the glass floor of my club.”
“You just called me your girlfriend. You know what I said about flattery?”
“No, tell me again,” he says.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, but sweet words will get you whatever you want on the glass floor in your club.”
He jumps up and throws his fist in the air. “Yes!”
He reaches below my dress and with a single tug, my underwear fall from my body.
“Damon.”
“You said whatever I want.” He drops to his knees and pleasures me to the beat of the music. Damon is a man of many skills—oral being near the top. Once the last quiver leaves my body, Damon stands and holds me while we sway to several more songs.
He kisses me and tells me he’ll be right back. A minute later, I look through the glass into the VIP lounge, where Damon smiles from below.
I laugh, lift my dress, and dance for him.
When he returns, he confesses, “That was awesome. I’ll never be able to be in the VIP lounge and not think of you on the floor above me. If I died today, I’d die a happy man.”
“I might die if you don’t feed me soon. I get grumpy if I don’t eat.” I look at him and push my lips out into a pout.
“How about In-N-Out? We can take it home and watch the movie.”
“Perfect. I want a double-double with fries and a chocolate shake.”
He gives a look of surprise.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been exercising from morning to nightfall for two days now, and I’m famished.”
“You have to be hungry. I exercise all the time, and you’ve worn me out. I think the scarf and heels will have to wait for another day.” We take the elevator to the first floor. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”
“Who wanted to make love in a tree house and dance on a glass floor?”
He raises his hand, “Guilty. I can’t get enough of you. The glass floor was a sight to behold. Next time I want you naked.”
“Fat chance of that.”
“Is that a challenge?”
The one thing I know is Damon always rises to a challenge.
We take our dinner to the theater and watch the new release he scored, then snuggle on the couch and enjoy a peaceful night together.
Exhausted from the physical demands of pleasing each other, we trudge to his bed and collapse. Lying next to Damon feels so natural. He’s my person.
“I’m falling in love with you,” I admit cautiously. I don’t know how he’ll respond, but I know it’s something that needs saying. I can’t fall further and expect to survive.
Pulling me as close as possible, he tells me, “I love your love, and I’ll do my best to be worthy. My life is better because you’re in it.”
It’s not an affirmation of love, but it may be as close as I’ll get from him. Actions speak louder than words, and Damon’s actions say he cares. I fall asleep with his breath on my neck and my heart in his hands.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Should I fear meeting your parents?” Damon asks.
Stuck in traffic on Interstate 210, we have plenty of time to talk. Normally it’s the 405 that’s bottlenecked, so it’s odd we’re at a complete stop.
“You should be terrified. I don’t come from the average American family. My parents are way ahead of their time, but they’re traditional and old-fashioned in many ways. I couldn’t date until I was sixteen, and everyone had to meet my dad before I went anywhere with them. He made copies of their identification cards so he could track them down if I disappeared.”
“Thank goodness I brought my ID. They may even let me leave the house with you,” he teases.
“These days, I’m on m
y own. Once I went off to college, they figured they’d done their job. If I didn’t know how to care for myself by then, then I’d succumb to natural selection.”
“You’re joking, right? I’ve never met a daddy that didn’t obsess over his little girl’s safety.”
“Dad worries about my safety, but he trusts me to make good decisions.”
We inch along on the freeway until we come across an awful car accident. With the amount of mangled metal on the side of the road, no one survived.
“That’s a bad one,” Damon says.
“I hate the traffic in Los Angeles. People get distracted so easily with cell phones and other stuff. Accidents happen when people don’t pay attention.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes. Once we clear the accident, the freeway opens up, and it’s smooth sailing.
“Tell me, have you met a lot of fathers?”
Has he always been cool and confident, or does he ever waver under pressure?
“I’ve only met one girl’s father. He was okay. Since then, I wouldn’t call what I do dating. You’re my first date in ten years.”
“You can choose not to answer, but who’s this girl who broke your heart?”
He stares ahead and bites the inside of his cheek, causing it to hollow. I wish he’d open up. It would be so much easier to have a battle against a known enemy.
“Mara was my first and only girlfriend before you. All I’ll say is, she was unfaithful, and it destroyed me.”
I take his hand and squeeze. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to give your love and trust to someone, only to have them betray you. Infidelity would ruin me.
“I’m sorry. I promise to never invalidate our relationship by being unfaithful. I’m yours, and only yours.”
His large hand wraps around mine to bring it to his lips for a kiss.
“What else do I need to know about your family?”
It is sweet that he wants to make a good impression.
“The best way to earn my family’s respect is to be honest. Engage in conversation and enjoy yourself. They have no filters, so don’t be surprised at how inappropriate they can be. Everyone says exactly what they’re thinking or feeling. Out of the bunch, I’m the most reserved, and that’s not saying much. For example, penises were the topic at dinner for Thanksgiving last year. How you end up talking about man sausage during turkey dinner is beyond me, but it happened. We ended the conversation when my brother thought vaginas should get equal billing.”
“I agree with your brother. Only I’d push for top billing.”
Damon doesn’t know what he’s in for. Going to my home is like entering a clown car. You’ll make it alive, but it will be an experience.
“If they’re like you, I’ll like them just fine.”
“They’re like me, but on steroids. Pay close attention, or they’ll bulldoze you.”
“Okay. I’ll try to keep up.”
Mom must have heard the roar of Damon’s tricked-out Mustang pull into the driveway.
She walks toward us, drying her hands on the kitchen towel tucked into the waist of her jeans. Once we exit, she gives me a bear hug, then walks straight to Damon to say hello.
“This is the Viking god you were telling me about? Katarina, you were right. He is every inch as beautiful as you described. Turn around, Damon, and let me see the whole package.”
He looks at me incredulously as his forehead creases, and one of his brows raises to his hairline
I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold back a smirk and give him an I-told-you-so look.
He nonchalantly turns as told. His blue jeans hug his body, showing what he’s working with while his yellow shirt squeezes his chest, displaying finely tuned muscles. The sleeves stretch over his beautiful biceps—the same biceps that flexed above me this morning.
“Do I pass inspection, Mrs. Cross?”
“Oh, yes, you’ll do. I love a little eye candy at the table. It makes the meal sweeter.”
“Leave him be, Mom. He’s been here for less than five minutes, and you’ve made him an ornament at the table. Come on, Damon. Time to meet the other comedian who raised me.”
My father and brother are in the living room.
“When did you decide to come to dinner?” I ask Chris.
“When I found out you were bringing a boy home, little sister.”
“Damon is hardly a boy. What about you? When are you going to bring a boy home for dinner?”
“I’ll bring one home when I find one worthy of me. I’m not easy, and I’m not cheap.”
“Good for you. Set your standards high,” I tell him.
The rest of the afternoon goes much like the beginning. Everyone sizes up Damon and asks him inappropriate questions.
My dad and brother take turns grilling him about his intentions, and to Damon’s credit, he stands on his own two feet, dishing it back as fast as my family can serve it up.
“Does anyone want more? Maybe something sinful?” Mom asks.
Looking into Damon’s eyes, I see he’s struggling to contain his laughter.
This has piqued my mom’s curiosity. “Is there something I should know?”
“You know your daughter. Sometimes her appetite can’t be sated.”
“Really? I’ve never known her to be a glutton.” She stands. “Is that a yes or no on dessert?”
We opt for a tour of the house instead. It isn’t that big and doesn’t take long to make the rounds. We finish the excursion in my bedroom, where I close the door and grab him by his shirt. Fisting handfuls of cotton, I drag him toward me and pull him to my twin bed.
“Should we be on your bed like this in your parents’ house?” His uneasiness makes me giggle.
“If my dad finds you in my bed, he’ll kill you, but isn’t that what you like? The thrill of the unknown?”
“I’d like to live a little longer.”
“No worries. I’m nearly twenty-four, and my parents aren’t coming in to check on us. Let’s make out on my bed, and then on Emma’s.”
“Emma’s bed? The other twin is hers?”
We lie on my bed, and I try to explain why Emma has a bed in my room.
“Once her mom died, she only had her dad. He was a truck driver and gone a lot. Emma lived with us throughout her middle school and high school years. My mom eventually bought her a bed so we could share a room like sisters.”
I rolled over and kissed him until he moaned.
“The louder you are, the more likely my dad will come to investigate.”
“I’d take one for the team.”
“I totally love you.” Holy shit, I loved him—everything about him, from the scent of his body to the taste of his skin to the feel of his hands on my body. I love the way confidence oozes from every pore and the fact that he’s dependable yet unpredictable. I love Damon Noble.
“You’re crazy.” He kisses me again. Only this time, he makes a lot of noise; none of it authentic. “I’d take any beating your dad would give me just to be with you.”
“I appreciate that you’d take a beating for me, but there’s no risk of getting caught. My parents take a walk after dinner every night. They take forty-three minutes from start to finish.”
“What about your brother?”
He tickles me until I nearly bust a gut.
“My brother is oblivious. Besides, he’s tuned into 60 Minutes.”
“I’m not good with this subject, but your brother bats for my team, right?”
“You are astute. Was it the talk of bringing boys home or his feminine swagger?” I settle next to him with my head on his chest. “He came out several years ago. It wasn’t a big deal with my family. We all knew and gave him time to figure it out himself. That’s the one thing I love about my family. There’s never been any pressure to be anything other than what we already were.”
“You’re very lucky.”
“I am. My parents challenge us to be better and do better. They demand nothing from us, ex
cept that we live our lives with honesty and integrity. Growing up with these values allows my brother to live his life being true to himself. It is powerful having that unconditional love, as you know, because your mother loves you the same.”
“My mother loves me, but she has no choice. I’m the only one left.”
“Oh, Damon. Someday you’ll tell me why you think you’re so unlovable, and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”
We straighten ourselves and find Chris exactly where I thought he’d be —sitting in front of the massive flat-screen TV watching the news.
“You two came up for air. That was quick.” Chris eyes Damon as if to say, Sorry, man.
Damon has no idea what to say. If he defends himself, he all but admits we were up to no good. If he doesn’t defend himself, he owns the put-down.
I ride in on my white steed and save my man.
“Sometimes quality is so much better than quantity. It turns me on knowing I can get my man to the point of no return lickety-split.” I take my tongue and let it linger slowly as I circle my lips.
“Touché, sis. So, Damon, what do I have to do to get an invitation to Ahz? Does you sleeping with my sis get me benefits?”
“I’ll send you an invitation, but not because you’re trying to pimp your sister out, but because you’ll fit right in with my target audience.”
“Wow, someone is finally catering to the strapping young gay population of the world? Normally, we’re in the basement or back-alley clubs.”
“I’m not opening a gay club. I’m opening a club that, no matter what your gender preference is, you are encouraged to attend and enjoy yourself.”
“I thought you’d tell me I was encouraged to come. I was getting excited about that.”
“Stop flirting with my boyfriend. Go find your own,” I say.
“No worries. I have the lickety down, but I’m not a fan of the split.”
Damon looks back and forth between us. I warned him, but I don’t think he believed me. Minutes later, my parents return, which saves Damon from the inevitable ribbing he’d get from my brother.
“What’s on your agenda for the rest of the afternoon?” Mom asks.
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