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Harvard graduate, business mogul . . . and doormat? Fuck that.
Damien was one of Charleston’s most notorious playboys. And on that night, he’d made himself one of the most delectable by pouring himself into a perfectly fitted Brooks Brother’s suit. His thick, brown, cropped hair was styled in a mix of class and sex. Within seconds of my arrival at the bar, his light brown eyes flicked my way. His warm smile was genuine in greeting, but his eyes screamed “Wanna fuck?”
“Ms. Ellison—” he tipped his glass my way “—you look stunning tonight.”
“White wine, please,” I said to the bartender before I acknowledged him. “Mr. Baldwin, thank you.”
Several words popped into my mind at that moment and then a name. Handsome, entitled, wealthy Ray. Damien kept in his seat as he angled his body toward me, his eyes trained on my face before they slid down my body. “You know, red is my favorite color.”
I took my wine and gave him a sly grin. “And how would I know that?”
“I guess you wouldn’t,” he drawled with a hint of southern tongue. “Why don’t you let me buy you that wine so I can tell you more about myself.”
“Narcissism is unattractive, Mr. Baldwin.”
“Call me Damien.” His lips twitched. “And I believe I’m pretty sure I can figure out a way to make the conversation all about you.”
I scoured him. He was truly a beautiful man. I took the two strides toward him and stood by his side. He studied my profile and then smirked at his scotch.
“Something on your mind, Damien?”
“I find myself thinking that we may have a little in common, Taylor.”
Lust-filled eyes met mine as he inched closer, the smell of his cologne inviting as his breath hit my ear. “Let’s discuss it over fucking.”
“Wow,” I mused, “two sips into my wine.”
Damien quirked a brow. “I’d say that dress did the conversing for us. Let’s not bullshit each other, Taylor.”
He stood and tossed a bill on the bar, winking at the younger girl Daniello had finger-fucked months ago in front of my eyes. My lover later revealed he fucked her that night, which only fueled my anger. It was a game.
He was a predator and I his prey.
I was Daniello’s mouse.
With a fresh drink in hand, the bartender bent low in delivering it, giving Damien an eyeful of cleavage, which he had the good sense to ignore. I remembered the heat I felt when I watched Daniello touch her, fuck her with his fingers, and then bring her to orgasm for everyone on that deck to see. The desire that built that night slowly seeped into me as Damien turned his gaze my way.
Full of anger and desire for a man I couldn’t grasp, I homed in on the man in front of me—starving. Damien read my mind. “Let’s go get comfortable.” I followed him to one of the unoccupied couches away from the crowd. Damien crossed an ankle over his knee and patted the couch beside him. Exhaling out the idea that what I was doing was wrong, I took my seat and let him do his bidding. It was easy, too easy, and I found myself deflated at the lack of connection. Still, I forged on, unwilling to admit defeat. Two white wines and a filthy whisper from his lips later, his mouth was on mine in the parking lot. Without a firm answer to him stating where I wanted to go, he nailed me to my Chevelle and tore into me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as his hands explored beneath my dress. It was quiet in the tree-covered and car-filled yet otherwise deserted parking lot.
Damien took his fill before he pulled his lips away for a quick proposition. “I have a place down the street, four beds, nice kitchen, big bathrooms,” he mumbled as his lips traced my neck. “I could fuck you in every one of them.”
I gripped his hair as he roamed my skin, and I tried to will myself into the moment, my head and heart at odds as I forced myself open and molded my body to his. Pulling away, I sank into the Chevelle as he dove in, misreading my defeat as an invitation. “Jesus, you are beautiful, so fucking hot, Ellison.”
Awareness hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a piece of me break when I searched for and found the dark eyes a foot away. My whole body jolted as Damien backed away to study my face before he took a look in both directions, his back to Daniello.
“What’s got you spooked?” Damien asked as he slipped a warm hand behind my neck.
Averting my eyes to his, I felt the unspoken threat as I gripped Damien’s jacket, keeping his attention on me and not the certain death that stood behind him. “Nothing.”
Daniello’s eyes screamed murder as Damien’s lips brushed my shoulder. Two men I didn’t recognize emerged from a sedan and walked toward Daniello. They were oblivious to us as they spoke rapid Italian. Daniello paused only a second after his name was called before he tore his gaze away and walked with them toward the club.
He was in Charleston, and he hadn’t come to me.
He. Was. In. Fucking. Charleston.
My heart sank as I abruptly pushed Damien away. “What the hell, Taylor?”
“Just give me a second, okay?” I fumed as I looked toward the building.
