7:55 pm
Chapter 25
When I finally woke up the next morning, Damian was already sitting at the edge of the bed, his arm freshly bandaged and wearing that ridiculously smug grin of his.
The moment my eyes fluttered open, he leaned down and showered me with kisses.
I shoved at him, groaning. “It’s too damn early. Get off me, you horny bastard.”
I startled at my own voice–a scratchy rasp that made me sound like I’d chain–smoked a pack of cigarettes in one night.
Damian was already handing me a warm glass of water. “Here. That should help the voice.”
I drank, sat up carefully and instantly regretted it when my whole body screamed like I’d been steamrolled. My back, my hips, my thighs–everything hurt.
Damian, the ever–attentive gentleman, immediately started massaging my waist like he was born for it. “I ordered your favorite–Asian breakfast. Want to eat here or downstairs?”
“Downstairs,” I muttered, wanting to get out of this bedroom before he tried anything else.
But when I tried to walk to the bathroom, that burning friction between my legs made me want to murder him. And of course, the jackass followed me.
“You-” I whipped around, glaring. “Have you been celibate for, like, a century? You were like a beast!”
To my surprise, he actually flushed a little, scratching the back of his neck. “First time, actually. Go easy on me, Andrea.”
I froze. “Wait… what? First time… like, ever?”
He nodded. Well, that explained a lot.
Fine. I wasn’t heartless. I let him off the hook.
Lunch was amazing–he had the hotel serve all my favorite comfort food. Once I’d stuffed myself, my strength finally started to return, but Damian still insisted on carrying me back to the car like I was some fragile porcelain doll. He drove me straight back to my apartment, tucked me
of course into bed like some overly protective husband and
tried to climb into bed with me
again.
–
–
“Don’t you have your own place? Go home!” I said, shoving at his chest.
He looked genuinely offended. “Are you seriously kicking me out after what we just shared?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I just don’t trust the self–control you have.”
Honestly, I could excuse the first round last night because of the drug. But the second time? That was pure lack of control. Not to mention, it was his first time. Like, how am I supposed to endure the man that’s been holding himself for thirty years?
“Relax, I’m exhausted too,” he said, lying down beside me. “I promise I won’t touch you.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced.
Before I could say anything else, Damian pulled me into his arms and quickly drifted off to sleep
When I woke again, it was already dark outside. Damian had ordered dinner and after we ate, we
Chapter 25
33
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7:55 pm
b
somehow ended up tangled together again.
When we finally caught our breath, I looked at him. “What the hell happened last night? I was barely gone for a few minutes and you were already drugged.”
Damian’s eyes darkened. “Someone got impatient, that’s what.”
With both his parents at the party, if anyone had caught him ‘in the act, even if it was forced, the pressure would’ve been enormous for him to take responsibility. Marrying into the Whitlock family was an opportunity many people would kill for.
I felt a pang of sympathy. “Do you live with this kind of scheming every day?”
He let out a dry laugh and said he was used to it. Usually, he stayed vigilant during these events. But this time, with me around, he’d let his guard down–and someone took advantage.
I couldn’t resist teasing him. “So basically, it’s my fault you got drugged?”
Damian grinned, tightening his hold around me. “Well, since you became my antidote, I’ll forgive you.”
1 bit his shoulder playfully.
He hissed and his hand, which had been resting innocently on my waist, started wandering.
“Stop it,” I quickly pulled away. “I really can’t handle any more.”
Damian sighed regretfully.
By ten o’clock, I finally pushed him out the door.
As he lingered at the entrance, clearly reluctant to leave, he asked, “Can’t I just move in with you? Or you could move in with me?”
I crossed my arms. “Not the right time.”
He raised a brow. “And when exactly would it be ‘right‘?”
I pretended to think for a moment. “Give it, I don’t know, three to five years?”
His jaw dropped, “You might as well stabbed me now, Andrea.”
laughed, shoving him toward the elevator, “You’ve already been stabbed once, remember? Now go home. And keep that arm dry.”
He sighed heavily, dragging his feet with every step like I was breaking his heart all over again. Honestly, if anyone saw this, they’d think I was some cold–hearted femme fatale leading him on.
26
