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“Where are you staying?” I ask as he slows the Jag and takes the turning for Riccarton, where my father and stepmother live.
“In The Garden House.”
“Oh, of course.” It’s a beautiful boutique hotel on the edge of the Avon, overlooking Hagley Park, and it’s where Gaby and Tyson are holding the wedding, so most of the guests are staying there.
I clear my throat. “Are you working at Kia Kaha tomorrow?”
He nods. “Alex is on the six-a.m. flight back.”
“I’m so glad he had to do that presentation at the last minute.”
He glances at me and gives a small smile. “Me too.”
“Clearly, God does exist.”
He chuckles.
I study his face, lit by the streetlights as he navigates the suburbs. He’s so handsome. All his talk about one-night stands and being cursed with relationships doesn’t frighten me, because I’ve known him a long time, and I can see that what happened with his cousins has affected him deeply.
I want to slip beneath the façade he presents to everyone else and cuddle up to the vulnerable guy I know lies beneath. I want him to whisper endearments in my ear again, and to have him touch me the way he did in the darkness and the silence of the car. But I also want more than that. I’m so intrigued now by our discussion of sex. I want to taste him, and for him to taste me. If he can make me feel like that with his fingers, what would it feel like if he gave me an orgasm with his mouth? How would it feel to come with him inside me? Oh my God. I think I’ll die if I don’t go all the way with him now.
“If you have any free time, we could always catch up again for a coffee,” I say mildly.
He glances at me again, then returns his gaze to the road, slowing as he approaches the street to my father’s house. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
He just purses his lips.
“Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?” I tease. That earns me another wry look. “Aw,” I say, “we’re both single consenting adults. Where’s the harm?”
He cruises past the neat line of houses with their well-tended gardens, then slows and stops outside my father’s. He turns off the engine, sits there for a moment, then unbuckles his belt and turns to me in the seat.
My heart races. I think he’s going to tell me off, but instead he just studies me. His eyes are almost black in the semi-darkness.
“I told you,” he states, “I’m not offering a relationship.”
“Who said anything about a relationship?” I look at his mouth, remembering how it felt to kiss him, his tongue sliding against mine. “I’m talking about sex.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth and looks away, out of the window.
“Don’t you want to teach me?” I say. “I need someone to show me the things we talked about. You said I need a man I trust. I trust you, Damon.”
“Jesus. Don’t say that.”
“Why? I do trust you. I’ve known you for fifteen years. You’re my brother’s best mate. You’re a good guy.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Don’t give me that. I know you.”
“Belle,” he says, his voice hard, “you really don’t. Don’t spoil this. I did what I did because I felt sorry for you, and I wanted to help. But like I said, it wasn’t all altruistic. Tonight, when I go back to the hotel, I’ll think about what I did and probably jerk off because it was so fucking hot. How do you think that makes me feel? You’re my best mate’s little sis. He’d kill me if he found out what I did.”
“So don’t tell him.” My heart is racing at the thought of him touching himself while he thinks of me. The way he’s so frank about it… oh God that’s so sexy.
“That’s not the point,” he snaps.
“So what is the point? I know it turns you on to think about me. And I know you like to pleasure women because you told me. So why don’t we have a bit of fun?”
