in itself.
“Stay away from him,” Damien tells me, stalking down the hallway, but I’m hot on his heels. I want more answers than that.
“You have to tell me what the fuck that was, Damien.” He stops suddenly, spinning on his heel, which causes me to crash into his body. My hands land on his pecs, and the heat coming off him is searing. But I don’t let go, I don’t move away, because his hands find my hips, his fingers digging into the flesh.
“Don’t ever talk to me like that,” he whispers, but there’s no anger left in his tone or his blue eyes. They dance with desire, the pupils dilating, the color turning darker than they normally are. The corner of his mouth tilts sideways, the dimples forming in his cheeks.
“Or what?” I know I’m poking the beast, teasing the animal that he hides inside. But I don’t care because I need him to do something. To kiss me or kill me. This heat that sizzles between us is unbearable.
He spins us both around, slamming me against the wall, knocking the breath from me, and seconds later, his mouth crashes on mine. His lips steal my whimper, his tongue darts against mine, tangling and dancing. He rolls his hips, pressing his erection against my stomach.
He consumes me. Taking all of my breaths and mingling them with his. But his hands don’t move from my hips, if anything, they only seem to tighten their hold on me. I don’t know if he’s trying to restrain himself from touching me anywhere else, but I don’t care. My hands wind around his neck, and I hold on as I’m kissed within an inch of my life.
A low rumbling growl vibrates through Damien’s chest, and I feel every movement on my palms, as I lower them from his neck, feeling his hot flesh under my touch.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m breathless. The pulse between my legs is thrumming wildly, needing more, wanting him to do so much more, but he steps back, finally releasing me from his hold that I know will leave bruises.
“That is the first and last time.” His words are void of any emotion, cold and aloof. His eyes change color before my gaze, from the darker shade to the usual glass-like blue that they always are.
He pushes by me, into his bedroom, and shuts the door behind him with a resounding thud. I’m still trying to catch my breath, trying to not fall to the ground. My knees are wobbly, as I make my way across the hall to my own bedroom that beckons with safety.
There’s no use denying I crave him. It’s fierce and hot. Even though my lips are still tingling from the contact with his, I can’t stop wondering just what pain he’s hiding deep inside.
I lean against the closed door, needing to collect my myriad of thoughts that are only of him. My panties are wet, but my heart aches at his promise, this is the first and the last time. There’s darkness that follows Damien, pain he hides so well, and it felt like he was pouring all his agony into me with a single, heart-stopping, all-consuming kiss.
As forbidden as it is, I want another one. I want so many more breath-stealing kisses. Shaking my head, I make my way into the bathroom and pull out the box. For a long time, it’s been my only solace in this world of judgments and ridicule because I’m not like everyone else. Not like my mother. I struggle to vocalize my emotions, what I’m feeling in the depths of my soul, and over the years, this has been the escape. It’s been the answer I wanted and needed.
Cutting has been my screaming admission as to how I’m feeling. It’s been an outlet of all those emotions that bubbled inside me, struggling to be set free. But only I could hear.
The shiny metal inside that reminds me I can breathe, when it steals my anxiousness and leaves me calm and serene. But the moment I flick open the lid and pick up the blade, I find myself consumed by thoughts of him. Instead of wanting to release the pent-up frustration, I find myself on the mattress, moments later, with my hand between my legs, as I replay the kiss in my mind.
It doesn’t make sense that Damien’s presence is so strong in my mind. I want to think about the tumultuous emotions I’m feeling, to