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I wipe my clammy hands on my skirt and make my way to the hidden door.
Black stairs.
My heart beats faster in time with the inconsistent rhythm as I climb them.
Sweat pools on my upper lip, yet I keep moving, refusing to acknowledge what I might find. The noise echoes in my head, pulsing through my body as I reach the top stair. I peer around the corner, relief and surprise washing over my nerves.
More black. The entire room is painted in the dark color, so different than the rest of the stark white condo. Numerous chains dangle from the ceiling on a movable grid. On a few of them, various punching bags hang. In the center of the room, wearing only a pair of black shorts and the watch he never takes off, Damien hunches over a long bag, punching it with bare fists.
Thud. Thwack, thud.
There’s a private gym attached to his room. I live with him, yet we sleep in separate rooms and both hold more secrets than there are stars in the sky. Apparently I don't even know what hides in his bedroom. The urge to laugh or cry wells up inside my chest. Instead, I stroll over to him, stopping right beside the bag as his fist hits an inch from my neck.
His entire body freezes. I don't even flinch. With a practiced grace, I stare at his bare chest like the good girl I’m supposed to be.
Tattoos cover his bulging biceps and shoulders, down to the middle of his dark, toned torso. A body sculpted for the gods. On his right shoulder, a stylized turtle. A smile spreads across my lips as I take in the arched letters across his collarbone. 'UPO,' forming a semi-circle almost like a necklace. United Polynesian Organization. The brotherhood watching over all of the islands, keeping us all safe. The man in front of me, though only nineteen, is their leader, the Haku.
I reach out, letting my fingers trace the black letters as my nerves settle. “You couldn't sleep, either,” I whisper, my voice barely above our hushed breaths.
“No.” He reaches out and clasps my hand, stilling my fingers. Bright-red drops of blood glisten from open blisters across his bruised knuckles. Yet his hold on me is gentle as he lifts my hand up to his lips and places a delicate kiss on my fingertips.
I lean my head against his punching bag, still staring at his red knuckles. He kisses my hand again, drawing a smile from me. This is my Damien. Sweet only when it comes to me. Something shifts in my chest, and I latch on to the warmth seeping through my veins.
“Since neither of us can sleep,” I brave, “I can think of something else we could do to wear you out.”
Behind our interlocked hands, he smiles. “Is that what you came all the way up here for?”
I take a step closer to him. “I think you've done enough punching for the day. Besides,” I grab his free hand and bring it up to my lips, kissing the top of his finger, “if you really wanted to fight, you'd be downstairs at the gym, sparring. Not hiding up here.”
“Kalena,” he moans my name.
Instead of answering, I suck his long digit into my mouth.
He groans again, his head falling back as his eyes close. Then his lips are on mine. His hands tangle in my damp hair as he grips the back of my neck.
Before I can catch my breath, he guides me down the stairs and onto his bed. Yanking off his shorts, he selects a condom from his nightstand and slides it on his long, hard dick. I watch with greedy eyes as he strokes himself a few times, then climbs on top of me, hovering over my body with only our lips touching.
“Ka’u Lokelani.” My rose. He whispers the words while staring deep into my eyes. I stare back into his, getting lost in their stained glass like depth. Every shade of brown possible, like they hold the entire world within them, spears me to the core.
Soft. Gentle. Every kiss and caress is sweet as though I'm a piece of ivory he's afraid to break. Even though that couldn't be further from the truth, I melt against him. Trailing my hands up his biceps, I pull him closer and deepen our kiss.
I'm broken, worthless, yet in his arms, I feel priceless. As he pushes up my skirt and slides inside of me, I feel cherished. Meeting his thrusts, I let him set the pace, slow and gentle. Still, my body climbs. I grab his ass, urging him to move harder. He never does. In deep, slow strokes, he remains in complete control, managing to find the right spot.
He doesn't know how broken I am. That I cannot give him everything. If he did, he wouldn't look at me like that. But, for the moment, I let myself dream. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him deep, letting go as my body soars. As we both find our release, I close my eyes and welcome sleep.
* * *
I blink. Bright light invades every corner of my vision.
Slowly, the ceiling comes into view. Then stark white walls.
My bed.
How did I get in my room?
Yawning, I sit up and pull my white covers off. I glance down and sigh. I'm still wearing the tank top and skirt from last night, although they're wrinkled beyond decency now.
A few muffled voices somewhere in the penthouse sneak through my closed door. Their words spew too fast to catch the conversation, but so loud, like two people arguing. It sounds like Damien, yet that makes no sense. No one ever yells here. Not with Damien. He says jump, everyone asks how high.
