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So angry.
But mostly vulnerable.
And he didn’t even know it.
“I can’t do this with you again,” I manage to say, even though all I want to do is leave this cage and drag Damon to a back room. “Not again. I need to keep myself in a good place and you are nothing but trouble.”
His eyes search mine, and despite my protests, he refuses to leave. “And is that the decision you’ve come to in only a handful of hours?”
Nodding my head, I swallow hard, as if that will hold my resolve in place so I can continue to deny him.
A few seconds pass before another question rolls over his full lips.
“How much for a private dance, Blue? That’s all that I’m asking.”
“I don’t need the money.”
Damon nods his head and twists his posture to look out across the club before looking back at me.
“What if I tell you we’re not done yet?”
I huff out a breath. He’ll stand there all night if I don’t end the game we’ve been playing, but still, I refuse.
“I’m done.”
He’s nothing if not persistent.
“Five minutes, Blue. That’s all I’m asking. And if you want me to leave, they have a button in each wall you can hit to have me dragged out of this place. I’m sure Patrick is looking forward to taking me down again. You’ll be doing him a favor.”
I begin to shake my head, but his voice stops me. “Come on, Blue. What can possibly happen in five minutes?”
A lot.
Stifling a laugh, I want to argue that, with him, there’s no guessing. Within the last four days, he’s managed to force me to abduct my friend, steal me from my apartment, fly me to Georgia, leave me in Georgia, and then drive me to my mother’s and back. And that’s just the basic events.
It’s what Damon was able to do to my heart and my head in that same amount of time that is the true story of his path of destruction.
Perhaps it’s that storm of his that makes everything so chaotic, and just like every storm that blows wildly out of control, there’s no telling what devastation can occur in as little as five minutes.
Still … my pulse picks up to look at him, and an invisible tether that ties us together pulls me to him all the same.
I start to shake my head again, but he surprises me when he leans in closer and asks, “Why are you running?”
My resolve collapses to hear the question.
All the lies I’ve been telling myself for the past few hours.
There is no way that he can know I’ve been asking myself the same question all day.
He can’t know.
Can he?
Maybe he does.
He smiles like he does.
“Five minutes,” I relent, knowing that, even in so short a period of time, saying goodbye to him at the end of it will be damn near impossible.
