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“Dyslexia.” He shrugs. “Lacie got me a ghostwriter, and we worked on it together.”
“My parents are in East Hampton, I’ll be there during the weekend through Monday. Maybe we can arrange lunch one of the days.”
“Thanks.” He nods. “Also, you might want this.” He takes his hoodie off and hands it to me. “Preserve your dignity.”
Without another word he saunters away, leaving me to wait for Ava. And the idiot that I am, I text Mom to let her know I’m going home to visit. With Ava.
I know it’s a bad idea, but I like it.
Chapter 11
Ava
The radio murmurs quietly in the background as we navigate through Manhattan, toward my apartment. Damon’s been on his phone for most of the journey, and although the atmosphere isn’t awkward, it feels strange to be sitting beside him in silence. We’ve never done silence. We’ve filled all our moments with flirting and fucking and fighting and fucking and…
“It wasn’t that bad.”
I look up to find him closer. There’s this look on his face that’s not the man from the bar, but not the Damon I’ve come to know either. He almost looks a little uncertain compared to his usual surety.
“Except it was.” I comb my poker-straight hair to one side, so it curtains my mortification from him. “Note to self: don’t wear white around sports wives.”
I’m still slowly dying inside over the fact my potential client has gotten an eyeful of my goods.
“Either way,” he exhales. His fingertips run through my shield of hair, sweeping it away from my face. An observant pout puckers his lips as his eyes rove over me. “It doesn’t matter,” he states, softer than I’ve ever heard him.
Francesca’s words come back to me, leaving me wondering if I’m something he cares about. Whether I’m someone to him, rather than a means to an end. A pawn in his game.
With those thoughts and the way he’s still looking at me, it’s easy to forget to hate him. I could almost believe I like him. That I admire his lack of scruples and how far he’s willing to go for what he loves.
How far is too far?
Surely he has a limit. There must be a line he won’t cross.
As he lowers closer, the urge to go the rest of the way has me wondering if once he’s reached that line, whether he’ll have me cross it for him. And if that happens, will I?
How far am I willing to go for him?
Damon sucks all the breath out of me as I hold his dark gaze. With a deep inhale filling his lungs, his hand cups my face. Warm and purposeful, the contact muddles my thoughts completely while his thumb smooths over my hot, pulsing cheek. Sculpted lips ghost mine. The overwhelming sensation of his overgrown stubble bristling over my jaw causing me to shiver closer.
I want him to kiss me.
Not with ignorance of who he is—I’m fully aware of it. And still, I want it. I want Damon Coldwell. In spite of all his lies and wrongdoings. I want him like I’ve never wanted anything before. Like he could make losing myself worth it, because he’s shown me a stronger side of me. A better side that I admire and that I want to explore more of.
“I’m going to kiss you, little mouse,” he murmurs over my lips, like he’s giving me a real choice. A chance to push him away. To stop.
It’s the one choice I want him to keep. I want him to take, and I never want him to stop.
I nod, and he doesn’t waste a second. Damon’s mouth comes down on mine, hard and commanding as the man I know so well. But his tongue licks into my mouth, slow and savoring. The hand cupping my face slips into my hair while his other rounds my waist and pulls me onto his thighs.
My heart hasn’t beat this fast or this hard in all my life. Ever. As it is right now with me sitting on his lap being caressed by his strong hands and devoured by his luscious lips. It’s a fantasy I’m grasping tightly with my fingers tunneling into his short hair. Every greedy gasp dragging the air straight out of his lungs into mine.
The car jolts to a stop, and the driver’s door slams shut. I expect Damon to stop, but if anything, his kiss deepens. Our hot breaths bluster between us raggedly. Meanwhile, my body is shamelessly begging for more as I squirm over his thighs, luxuriating the heady sensation of his erection pressed to the side of my thigh.
“Truce,” he rumbles when he pulls away.
I nod back. “Truce.”
Opening the car door, Damon shuffles to the edge of the seat without letting me go. Carefully, he gets out of the car with me still in his arms. He only puts me down when we’re on the stoop of my front door. I let us into the building with my heart throbbing in my throat. I don’t want this to end, and the possibility that he will leave me hot and wanting has me fumbling with the lock and keys.
