Silk.
“This feels so good,” I hummed.
I heard a sharp intake of breath, and a rush of pleasure shot through me. I knew my dress had hiked up a little bit more than what was decent, and I knew in my bones that Damien could see everything on display.
“Heaven help me.”
I stood up straight, and without fixing my dress, I turned around.
“Did you say somethin’?” I questioned.
Damien lifted his arm and ran his hand through his hair, and I realised it was an action I desperately wanted to do.
“I said,” he rumbled. “Heaven help me.”
“Why do you need help?” I asked. “You aren’t in trouble.”
“On the contrary.” Damien smirked. “I think I’m in a whole heap of trouble.”
I swallowed. “What trouble would that be?”
“The five-foot-five, black hair, and brown eyes kind.”
Butterflies exploded in my belly.
“You think I’m trouble?”
“Babe,” Damien chuckled. “I think you’re the definition of it.”
How could that be?
“I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,” I said, falling into a sitting position on the bed when I tried to take a step back. “I’ve never been in trouble in me life.”
“No, I’m sure you haven’t,” Damien agreed. “But I think you could stir up a lot of it.”
“Yeah,” I asked. “Like what?”
“Like how one kiss has me wanting to touch you in ways you’ve never been touched.”
My heart slammed into my chest.
“Ho-how do you know what ways I’ve been touched?” I stammered. “I could have already been touched in every way possible.”
“Babe,” was all he said as his cheeks dimpled.
I felt a blush burn up my neck, and he acknowledged my virginity with one word and a damn smirk.
“Fine.” I licked my lips. “No one else has touched me, but I’ve touched me an awful lot.”
The look of desire that Damien shot my way sent shivers up my spine.
I swallowed. “Why don’t you change the former and touch me?”
Damien’s face lost all traces of amusement.
“Be careful, Freckles,” he warned. “I think we should just cool it and talk—”
“I don’t want to talk.” I cut him off. “I want to kiss you, to touch you… I want… I want to get into trouble with you.”
“My God.” He groaned and put his face in his hands. “You aren’t a sex only girl, Lana. You’re the flowers, chocolate, cuddle nights in, and steady boyfriend kind of girl. And I love that about you, but I can’t give you that.”
I frowned.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Damien said, looking flustered. “I’m trying to do right by you. I’m trying to convince myself that you don’t really want me like this—”
“I do.” I cut him off once more. “I know your situation, and I’m not a fool. I know it’s just sex with you, but I want you so much that I’ll take it.”
I recalled my earlier conversation with Bronagh. I said I didn’t want Damien to want me just for sex, that I didn’t want to be on his hit list, but I had a strong feeling that I needed to experience him in any capacity.
“This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have brought you in here.” He began to pace. “I just wanted to talk to you, but damn, you look edible, and you smell and taste so good, it’s all I can do to stay on this side of the room.”
“Come to me,” I beckoned. “Don’t think about the after, think about now. If I’m angry later, it’s on me. This is probably a stupid idea, but I’ve never needed someone like I need you. If this is a mistake, let me make it and learn from it.”
“You’ve been drinking,” Damien said flatly.
“I’ve sobered up a hell of a lot since you told me I was trouble.”
“You are trouble.”
“Prove it,” I challenged.
Damien took a step forward then hesitated before he said, “Let’s just chill and talk for a while. Just… just to see if this is what you really want.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth before I turned and scrambled up the bed, flopping onto my back.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, holding my position. “I’m chillin’.”
Damien folded his arms across his chest, the corners of his lips twitching.
“You usually chill on a bed with your thighs parted?” he asked, a slight hint of laughter in his tone.
“Actually,” I said, “this is how I lie on me bed. It’s kind of… freein’.”