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"I do, yeah. They're honest."
He half-smiles. "It's always about wit and honesty with you."
"Did you want my opinion or someone else's?"
His half-smile turns into a full smile.
He sets the notebook back on the table, takes my hand, leads me to the bench seat by the fire pit.
"I know you don't want to talk about it." He sits and helps me onto the cushion next to him. "We don't have to talk about it." His eyes shift to the deck around the corner, as if there's some other it he could mean. "But I do have to say, that was totally fucked."
"Which part?"
"Frederick trying to pin the blame on you."
"I did lie," I say.
Damon half-smiles. "I love that about you, Cassie. You always take responsibility for your actions, your choices, your behavior."
The words I love and you are way too close together in that sentence. "Not always. Not back then. He was right. I didn't tell him what was going on. I didn't know how, yes, but I'm sure that hurt him too."
"You give him too much grace," he says.
"No. I just… I have to be honest with myself about what happened. I wasn't there. I wasn't ready to be there. I wasn't ready to claim my sexuality."
"Are you now?" He asks it without a hint of seduction in his voice.
My cheeks flush anyway. "Yes."
"He's been looking out here." Damon motions to the middle window. The sheer white curtains are drawn. The lights are off. "Every five, ten minutes."
"Oh." It's all I can think to say.
"If you want to talk, let's talk. But if you don't want to talk…"
"You want to have sex in front of him?" I ask.
"If it's what gets you off."
My blush spreads to my chest. "Is that the only reason?"
"Do I need a better one?"
I shake my head.
"It's because I hate the bastard too." Damon slips his hand around my waist. "Because I want him to see what he's missing. What he lost."
It feels petty when I think it, but on his lips, the desire is romantic.
"I guess it turns me on too." He runs his hand over the hem of my tank top. "Knowing I have what he doesn't. Knowing someone who wants you is watching."
Why does that sound so fucking sexy? "Is this the start of some sort of exhibitionist kink?"
"Maybe, yeah." He presses his lips to mine. Softly to start, then harder. Promising something harder than romance. "But it's up to you, Cass." He traces the hem of my top again. "I don't want to be like that asshole. I don't want to touch you unless you want me to. Unless you're in agony, because you want my touch that much."
I want that too. I want to slip into this place with him. One where we fit together just right. "Please."
"No, Cass. I need more than please." His fingers skim the skin of my stomach. "I need you to lead. To show me exactly how you want me. Can you do that, baby?"
I want him too much. It's overwhelming. "Are you sure you want to do this here?"
"Yeah. But I'll fuck you anywhere. Take me wherever you want. Do your best, baby."
He's offering me his body. To do whatever I want with him. No. He's not offering anything. He's challenging me.
Damon Webb, my cocky rival, is once again pushing me to show him up.
He makes me better. He really does.
I shift onto his lap so I'm straddling him, so we're both angled toward the window. A side view. If anyone wants to watch.
If not—
That's good too.
Right now, any thoughts of revenge are secondary. Ruses and career goals are tertiary.
Right now, I want to be with Damon. On display with Damon.
Fuck.
I pull my tank top over my head and undo the hook of my bra.
He looks up at me with eager eyes as I toss the garment aside. He gives me a long, slow once-over, savoring the sight of my bare torso.
I'm in his lap, in only my jeans, in front of every bedroom in the house.
Not just my ex-boyfriend's but my potential colleagues too.
Double fuck. Triple fuck. A million fucks.
Heat spreads through me like wildfire. I need to have all of him, now, and I need to savor every moment of this.
Everything, all the time, forever.
I lean down to press my lips to his. A soft kiss. Then a harder one. My lips part. My tongue slips into his mouth.
Damon matches my movements, swirling his tongue around mine with just the right pressure. He keeps his hands on my hips, holding my body against his, so I feel his hard-on against my sex.
Our jeans are in the way, but the pressure is still divine. His need, his want, his passion.
And it's all mine.
This time, I don't want to prove him wrong or show him up. I want to be the person he believes I can be.
