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Crunch. Guess he didn’t listen drunk, either.
“Careful, Damon. What if it goes through your shoe?”
“’s okay.” He reached for me.
I grabbed his blood-covered fingers and squeezed tight.
He laughed.
Guess he wasn’t feeling much.
“Careful. Stay right there.” I stepped around the glass, and he laughed.
“Did I break somethin’?” He tongued the corner of his mouth.
I pressed the napkin over the cut along his forefinger. “Shhh, just relax.”
“MyLisssBelle. You’re mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lizzie
OfcourseIwasDamon’s. But right now, I wasn’t going to get into it with him. Not that he’d remember anyway.
“Can’tsssee you.” He sagged against me.
Hooking my arm around his waist, I eased him to the side and propped him against the conference table.
“Wanna sssee youuu. Sexy LisssBelle.”
I laughed at how slurred his speech was.
“Wanna drink?” He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a silver flask.
“How’d you get that?”
“Stole. Drey.” He hiccupped.
“How’d you find me?”
“Always find my LizBelle.” He twisted the top off the flask and held it in my direction. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I propped him against the table and checked his hand. Cut wasn’t too deep, but the blood dribbled down his arm, onto his jeans.
He reached for me, and I caught hold of his wrist. “I’ll have a taste of that. What are we toasting?” I removed the flask from his hand.
“You. Only my LizBelle is worth a damn.”
“Then, to me!” I said as I screwed the cap on and set the flask on the table.
“Touch. You’re so pretty.” His drunk breath plowed into me, and I coughed. “Face.”
I guided his hand to my face, and he cupped my cheek. A smile filled his face, and for a second his drunken stupor vanished. I saw him. His eyes. His smooth skin. The light scars around his eyes.
His thumb traced my jaw to the corner of my mouth. Though his eyes didn’t focus on me, I knew he saw me. Through his fingers.
“I’ve missed you,” I said.
