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But she says, “I get it. Friends with benefits, right?”
I lie back, looking up at the ceiling, feeling my heart swell. “You’re a special girl, you know that?”
“Aw, come on, we’re both single, consenting adults, and we had a lot of fun. I’m not going to go and buy a wedding ring just because you want to have sex. I’m incredibly flattered, but I’m realistic. You’re a busy guy, and you’ve been badly hurt, and you want to keep things light. I’m happy with that, Damon. I’ve got a lot on my plate, I’ve got my internship, and then my finals. I’m still recovering from a breakup. I don’t need the hassle of a relationship right now. You want to have sex with me every now and again? Sounds great! Tell me where and when, and I’ll be there. Possibly with some sexy underwear.”
“Wow. Give me an hour and I’ll fly down.”
She laughs. “When are you free next?”
“What are you doing over the weekend?”
“Um… I have a kids’ party on Friday until five-thirty, but apart from that, nothing at all.”
“How about I fly down on Friday night, and you come and stay with me Friday and Saturday? I’ll fly back Sunday.”
“Sounds amazing,” she says. “Oh my God, I’m so happy. You made my day.”
I smile. “Likewise. I’ll book us somewhere nice. But… ah… don’t tell Alex I’m coming, okay? He’ll wonder why I’m down there but not going to Kia Kaha.”
“Hey, I’m not going to tell my brother that you’re coming. That treat is for my eyes only.”
I smirk. “Naughty girl. I’m going to bring you a special treat.”
“Ooh! Now I’m excited.”
“I’ll let you think on that. See you Friday.”
“See you.”
I end the call. I feel a surge of pleasure at the thought that I’m going to see her again, especially as she understands the situation. Friends with benefits, yeah, that sounds great. No ties for either of us, no commitment. If we both keep that in mind, hopefully things will be fine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Belle
I see my mum a couple more times before she eventually boards the plane back to L.A. I’m glad she’s going, because she mixes up my emotions, although I am sad, too. Our relationship is better than it’s ever been, and I promise to call her a bit more often and let her know how things go with Damon.
Then, on Friday afternoon, I pack a small bag for the weekend and take it with me when I go to the children’s party.
Putting it in the corner and hoping desperately that none of them opens it and discovers the lacy underwear and bullet vibrator inside, I go through the next ninety minutes with a rising sense of excitement at the thought that I’ll be seeing Damon very soon.
His phone call and the revelation that he wants to see me again came as a complete surprise. I honestly thought the next time I saw him would be in a few years, maybe at Alex’s wedding or something, and we’d exchange a smile at the memory of the time we spent together and then move on with our lives.
I want more—of course I do. He’s gorgeous and warm and funny and sexy, and he gave me so many amazing orgasms that my head is still spinning. I like him so much. But I refuse to be that girl who calls and begs him to see me. The thought that he misses me fills me with warmth and makes me almost tearful. But I’m determined not to get carried away. I said this was friends with benefits, and I mean it. We’ll have a fun weekend, and then go our separate ways. And I’ll just have to hope that the seed of something special that I can feel has been planted between us grows into something beautiful that he can’t turn his back on.
I’ll hope. But I’m not going to expect it.
The party goes well—the birthday boy is into pirates, so I tailor my routine to that. I wear an eye patch and have a fake parrot on my shoulder while I do my best Jack Sparrow impersonation, do magic with pieces of eight and skull-and-crossbones flags that the kids love, hand out pirate hats, and get them all playing games and hunting for bags of gold chocolate coins that I’ve hidden in the large garden.
When it’s finally done, the mums present shake my hand and give me a large tip, and I gather my stuff and then check my phone, wondering if Damon has messaged me yet. He texted this morning to say he was taking the afternoon off and should be landing around five, and that he’d let me know which hotel he’d chosen so I could meet him there. To my disappointment, there’s no message yet.
As I walk out of the house, I start typing a text to ask him, as I was hoping I could go straight there after the party. I look up to make sure I don’t walk into the fence, and then my heart skips a beat as I see him sitting on the wall, waiting for me. He’s wearing civvies—jeans and an All-Blacks rugby shirt, the kind that clings to a guy’s body, the arms of it stretched tight across his biceps, the rest clinging to his muscular chest. Oh boy, he’s gorgeous. He’s had his hair cut, and it’s real short up the back and in a stylish fade; he’s shaved, too, bless him. No stubble-burned thighs tonight! I fill with heat at the thought.
He stands as I go through the gate and smiles.
“Damon!” Dropping my bags, I run up to him and jump up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He laughs and holds me tightly, and I crush my lips to his, filled with a wonderful joy at seeing him so unexpectedly.
