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She smiled broadly at that, glad he was giving her crap. He was challenging her to not only feel better, but to also be better today. One heartbreakingly lovely day of his tender, loving care and sympathy had been glorious. Now she had to start healing and moving on.
She’d found her smile again—now she would help him find his. “Are you sure I thanked you enough for saving me from George Costanza?”
Damien tilted his head to the side, staring at her with confused eyes. It took him a second before he recognized the name, and then he said, “Uh, you mean George from Seinfeld?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, no. That doctor was wrong. You do have a concussion.” He walked closer, lifting his hand to check her forehead.
She laughed softly. “I mean, didn’t that actor play the creepy guy who tried to rape Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”
He lowered his hand. “Yeah, actually, I believe he did.”
“So, billionaire’s sleazy employee attacks the woman he’s involved with. We’re still playing out this movie, aren’t we? Only Richard Gere fired the guy. You actually traded Bruno Neeley, and beat the crap out of him.” She put her hand on his chest. “My hero.”
“If it was George, I wouldn’t have required Lex’s help to restrain him,” he said with a short laugh. “Nor would I have bruises all over my body.”
She sucked in a breath. She hadn’t seen him totally naked since the incident, and had no idea he’d been so badly hurt.
“I’m all right,” he said, reading her mind. “And beating the crap out of that guy was totally worth it.”
“Show me?” she whispered, still worried.
“Huh?”
“Show me,” she repeated. “Let me take care of you the way you took care of me.” She stepped away from him, reaching for the bottom of his T-shirt and pushing it up.
“I’m fine, honestly. Ice and aspirin, I’m all set. You don’t have to...”
“I want to,” she said, hoping he could read the honest desire in her eyes. But just in case he missed the message, she reached for the sash of her robe and untied it.
“Viv...”
“I’m fine, too,” she insisted as she shrugged the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall away. She wore nothing underneath. “Stop worrying about me.”
He remained still, staring over her body from head to toe, as if wanting to memorize her, or perhaps just make sure, again, that she truly was okay. He frowned at the sight of a few bruises, but his glower quickly faded as his gaze lingered on her breasts, the nipples dark and taut, and then down her stomach, to the apex of her thighs.
“Say you still want me,” she said, feeling exposed, vulnerable, standing here naked while he gazed at her.
He barked a harsh laugh. “Want you? I’m dying for you.”
He stepped closer, brushing against her, so she could judge the truth of that. He was rock-hard under his jeans, and Viv went soft and hot with desire.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted, not relaxing against her, even when she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his.
“You won’t hurt me. You’ll help me—you’ll make me forget, and you’ll give me pleasure.” She leaned up to press her lips against his throat, tasting warm, salty skin. “I need you, Damien. And I want you.”
He slipped his hands around her waist, his resistance melting. His fingertips were warm against her naked skin. With a helpless shrug, he admitted, “I can’t stop worrying. Can’t stop picturing him dragging you toward that closet.”
“Let’s both forget together, all right? We’ll put all of it behind us and move forward. Help me get over it, won’t you?”
She rose on tiptoe and brushed her mouth against his. Damien held himself from her for perhaps the space of a heartbeat. Then, on a deep, hungry groan, he drew her into his arms, pulling her up so their lips could meet for a deep kiss.
Viv sighed happily as their tongues twirled together, hungry and lazy both. There was no fear, no wispy remnant of ugly memories of the other night to interfere with her reaction. There was only Damien—sexy, powerful, tender Damien—wanting her, arousing her, fulfilling her.
The kiss went on and on. He tasted like the morning, delicious and warm. She could breathe nothing but air from his mouth for the rest of her life and be a happy woman.
“Say something to me if I hurt you,” he pulled away long enough to say.
“You won’t.”
She trusted him completely, and went back to pushing his shirt up and out of the way. Hearing his ragged breathing, she knew he was losing any inner battle to stay in control. He was on fire for her; his hands shook as he undid his jeans and shoved them down and off.
