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She had told Court that she loved him, but that she’d realized that her love for him was more friendly, brotherly, like loving a home. “But these nights I’ve spent with Damien I’ve realized who owns my heart, as a man should,” she’d said.
“Then I don’t think,” Court had said with genuine sympathy and finally, some understanding, “that this painting was truly meant for me.”
Now she stood at Damien’s door, with her heart in her sleeve. No, she wouldn’t give him the painting. She had insisted Court keep it. She had ordered it for him, after all. And she was sure it would only appreciate in value as Trini continued doing so well. Court got the painting, but her heart…her heart was—
Damien swung the door open wearing the most delicious smile and a satin sleep robe, and her heart stuttered. “Hey,” she said as their eyes met and held.
Her resolve only intensified when he seized her hand and pulled her in, setting a quick, fierce kiss on her lips.
“Someone’s happy today,” she murmured.
Oh my. Did he look extra hot today or even hotter than that? And the expression on his face and in his eyes was as possessive as she remembered.
“I had a good day today.” He pulled her close and his arms reminded her of where she belonged now. “Want to see something?” he asked.
She moved her head in consent.
Damien guided her to the living room, told her to sit, and pulled out a beautiful sparkling thing. “What is it,” she asked, mesmerized at the fancy pink hue.
“It’s a natural fancy pink diamond. The largest in the world.”
“It looks like a paperweight,” she said, amazed.
She didn’t know what she appreciated most, the look of pride in Damien’s eyes or the diamond itself.
“It’s spectacular. I thought we’d lost it. I thought…” He shook his head and his lips curved, and the smile he wore kept undoing her little by little. “We just let it be, and it came through.” He took it from her hands, and Sydney knew it was now or never.
“Damien, I need to talk to you about…last night.”
He set the diamond down, and there must have been something in her tone, for his entire expression became guarded.
“All right, talk.” He stood and crossed his arms. His eyes were shuttered, his face was beginning to look tight. “What about last night.”
His tone was flat and remote. His defenses instantly coming up.
Her poor darling. She would need to seriously love that I’m-not-good-enough complex out of him.
“Well, you know I love Court—“ she began.
Jealousy flared up in his eyes and his hands shaped fists at his sides. “Damn, you’re stubborn, Sydney,” he growled, “Are you insisting you want Court still? After last night, baby? After you came so hard—“
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” she cried, almost laughing over his stubbornness.
Damien quieted down, a slow smile appearing on his face over her frustration.
She drew in a relaxing breath and began again. “You’re moody, Damien. You’re a moody bastard.”
“And you’re perfect,” he said, lips continuing to curve as he took a step.
It was as if Damien could see something in her eyes, for he was now grinning, ear to ear, as if he already knew what she came here to say.
She took a step back, trying to keep distance between them, and calmly added, “You’re a diamond in the rough and I’m not even sure there’s any way to polish you quite right.”
“But you, baby, you’re flawless,” he said, backing her up.
“You’re difficult,” she continued, still breathless.
“You’re exquisite,” he retorted plainly.
