Drawn (15 page)

As I explain how I met
Damien, I start to realise that the only information I have on him, came from other sources. When he met me, he must have realised who I was. How could he not? He trains with my father, he knew my brother. He must have known who I was. Then why not say so? Why behave as though everything between us has been completely coincidental?

“Geez, sucks to be you,” Kensi says
, as she kicks off her slippers and starts to paint her toes in the same colour.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“You’re eighteen. You’re less than a year away from finishing your degree, and you have two very good looking men interested in you, and all you have to do is choose,” she lists.

“I’d choose Aaron,” Jessica chimes in.

“Yeah, but did you see Damien?” Kensi replies. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, but what’s with all the secrets? Aaron is just as good looking, and he’s so thoughtful. Look what he did for her?”

As they continue to argue the pros and cons of each man, I stand up from the bed and move toward my bag to get my phone. The sound in the room seems to dull around me. It’s as if I can sense it’s about to ring.

Staring at the screen, I jump a little when it actually does
, and Damien’s number appears.

“Come outside,” he says
, without waiting for me to say hello, before disconnecting the call.

For a moment, I’m frozen with the phone still against my ear. I’m still a little weirded out be the whole sensing the call thing. And now he says he’s here? But I haven’t even given him my new address…

“What’s up?” Jessica asks, looking at me curiously.

“I just… hang on,” I say, pocketing my phone into the back of my jeans as I leave the room to go downstairs. When I reach the front door, he’s there. Of course he’s there, I can feel him.

“You going to let me in?” he rumbles, his baritone entering my ears and absorbing into my body, sending gentle ripples coursing through me.

Without saying anything, I unlock the screen door and let him inside.

“Ladies,” he nods, directing his greeting toward Jessica and Kensi, who are both standing directly behind me, mouths open as he enters, the top of his head barely making it under the doorway.

“Oh my god. It’s like Conan the Barbarian just came to visit Jean Grey,” Kensi mutters.

“What?” Jessica giggles, scrunching her face up in confusion.

“Not the old Conan, the new one,” Kensi clarifies. “And Jean Grey is the telekinetic chick from Xmen.”

“Oh yeah, I would have pegged her as more of a ‘Rogue’ myself,” Jessica joins in.

“Maybe, but I don’t think Rogue is tall enough.”

“But is Jean Grey?”

As they continue yet another debate,
Damien takes my hand and leads me up the staircase. “Which one is yours?” he murmurs, as we reach the top.

“Just in here,” I say, pointing to the first door on the left.

Our eyes connect momentarily, and he tugs me inside, closing the door behind us and flipping the lock.

“We don’t need any more comic book references,” he informs me as he moves toward me and takes me in his arms, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he inhales deeply.

My head seems to swim as I lean against him, feeling drunk on whatever it is that his presence does to me. He turns his head a little, kissing me gently on the skin behind my ear, on my jaw, my brow and my forehead, before stepping us toward the bed and guiding me so I’m laying down next to him.

“I just need to hold you,” he explains, kissing me on my forehead as he pulls me against him.

I curve my body into his, my arm sliding around his firm waist. “Is everything ok?”

“It is now,” he says, pressing his lips in my hair.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the steady beating of his heart, and the sound of his breath as it filters through his lungs, and before I know it, I’m fast asleep.

***

When I wake I’m still wrapped in his arms. For a while, I just lay there quietly, enjoying being with him as I think about the events of my day. Eventually, the questions that surround him fill my mind, and I want some answers.

“
Damien,” I whisper, twisting in his arms so that I’m facing him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Craig?”

Sighing, his eyes open, an expression of sadness in them as he focuses on me.
“Because… it’s not my proudest moment.”

“What do you mean?”

He sits up on my bed and shakes his head like he’s trying to shuck the memories. “Do we have to talk about this?” he directs over his shoulder at me.

“Yes
Damien. We do. This is important. I want to know why you didn’t tell me you knew him. I mean, the moment I said my brother fell in the river and drowned, you must have known – especially after I told you who my dad was. Why have you kept it a secret?”

He grips his head with both hands and brings his knees up, leaning his elbows on them as he lets out his breath slowly. “Because he was with me, and I was too busy trying to get this girl to take a walk with me to notice that he’d gone missing.
If I had have been paying attention…” he pauses, his voice going hoarse as he shakes his head. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want to know me if you knew.” His voice is almost a whisper as he looks at me beseechingly.

“Oh
Damien,” I cry, reaching out for him and wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. “Please tell me you don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just an accident.”

He inhales sharply, pressing his finger and thumb to his eyes before releasing his breath slowly, trying to stay in control.

“Damien,” I say again, moving so that I’m kneeling next to him. I reach out, smoothing my hand down the side of his face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He lifts his gaze to meet mine, his eyes rimmed red with emotion. Suddenly, his arms are around me
holding me to him as he continues to apologise to me for not noticing Craig had gone missing. I clutch at him in return, assuring him repeatedly that it wasn’t his fault.

In between apologies, he plants
soft kisses on my face, in my hair, on my shoulder – anywhere I have some exposed skin. I’m slowly going insane with desire. I want him to kiss me properly. I want to feel his mouth on mine.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” I whisper,
gripping my hands on either side of his face so he looks at me.

“Because I don’t think I can stop if I do,” he states, running his fingers through the length of my hair.

“Maybe I won’t want you to stop,” I return, my eyes moving between his eyes and his mouth, my body screaming for him to connect with me.

Just as his resolve seems to slip
, and he edges toward me, Jessica calls through the door.

“Etta? We’re going to start getting ready. Are you still coming with us to the party?”

“You’re going to a party?” he asks, pulling back from me.

“Um, yeah,” I call back, effectively answering both questions at the same time.

“Where is this party?” he responds, his brow furrowing as he runs his fingers through his now messy hair.

Jessica once again calls through my door.
“Do you want a shower? I just need to know so we can work out our bathroom times.”

“Yeah. I’ll go last.”

“Ok.” Listening, I hear her move down the hallway and into her room, which is the one next to mine.

“The walls are thin,”
Damien notes as we can clearly hear her move around.

“They’re thin at your place too,” I comment, remembering how clearly I could hear conversations from within the hallway.

When we hear the shower turn on in the bathroom, he focuses his attention on me again.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, the party. It’s at number four. It’s a BBQ or something. Are you going to come with me? Make sure I don’t get into too much trouble?”

“Tempting. But I can’t. I have plans.”

“Oh,” I say, now frowning myself. “I… I didn’t realise. Sorry, I just…” I stop there, feeling as though I’m bumbling. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I realise that he made plans that don’t involve me. “You’ve made other plans. Fine.” I state, trying not to sound too bitter about it.

“I’ll call you when I’m through though. Just don’t drink too much this time. I won’t be around to carry you home.”

“I’ll be fine,” I bite out, annoyed at myself more than I am at him. I had envisioned spending the night with him after the closeness we developed just now. But instead, I’m attending a party, on my own, after experiencing the most emotional and sexually frustrating afternoon of my life.

Cupping my chin in his hand, he lifts my head. He wants me to meet his eyes, but I’m refusing to. I’m acting like a spoilt child. I know that. But I don’t want him to go out. I see the way women react to him.

“What’s wrong,” he asks me, tilting his head to catch my eyes.

“I don’t want you to go,” I tell him quietly.

Sighing, he releases my chin. “Would you look at me please?”

Shaking my head in response, I keep my face turned away. My eyes are burning as I fight tears. Tears I shouldn’t even need to fight
. Shit
. What the hell is it about him that has me acting like this?

“Henrietta. I need to go. This has been set up since last weekend.”

“Is it a fight?” I ask.

“Yeah. It’s in Darling Harbour. I can’t take you with me.”

“Why? I won’t do anything. I’ll just watch.”

“It’s not safe
, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m worried about you. Please stay here. I’ll call you when I’m through.”

“Maybe I won’t answer,” I tell him defiantly, attempting to worry him on purpose in the hope that he’ll change his mind and stay.

“Maybe I’ll take you to my place and deadbolt you inside.”

“You wouldn’t!” I cry, horrified at the idea.

“Try me.”

We stare at each other for a moment, each one challenging the other. In my mind, I’m trying to figure out how to get my way. That’s when it dawns on me.

Launching myself at him, I press my lips to his, urging him to respond as I wrap my arms around his neck, and suck on his lips.

At first, he places his hands on my hips as if he’s about to push me away, but I feel his resolve melt away as his body relaxes and his hands slide around to my buttocks, pulling me into his lap as his mouth works voraciously against mine. Sliding my hand underneath his shirt, I run my fingers over the definite bumps of his abs, loving the smoothness of his skin versus the hardness of his muscles.

When he hums into my mouth, I take it as a good sign and boldly slide my hand further, tucking my finger beneath the waist of his jeans.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, closing his hand over mine and bringing it back up to his mouth, sucking gently on my fingertips.

“But I’m ready,” I pant, feeling like I’ll die from the throbbing his kisses are creating between my thighs.

“Not yet,” he repeats, sliding me off his lap and onto the bed. As he stands, there’s a knock on my door.

“Shower’s free,” Kensi calls out.

“Come on,” he says from the doorway.

My heart starts to thud in my chest as images of showering with him make my already aroused body light on fire. I can’t wait to run my fingers, laden with soap over the top of his well-defined torso.

As I step inside the bathroom, I watch as
Damien walks over to the shower and twists the taps to start the shower running. 

“There you go,” he says, testing the water before retreating toward the door.

“You’re leaving?” I blurt out, all my fantasies evaporating before my very eyes.

“Yes. Have a nice shower.” He smiles knowingly as he leans in and kisses my cheek
, before quietly retreating from the bathroom. Leaving me on my own.

My cheeks flame hot, feeling embarrassed for assuming I could seduce him into staying. God, I’m behaving like some sex crazed
lunatic. But I want him – bad.

I get that most people view sex as a big step in a relationship. I personally, do not. I don’t see a problem with giving in to your desires. I see more of a problem in denying yourself, I mean, how can this
be a good thing? He’s just gone out with a hard on and I’m in here with a throbbing clit. If he’d just let me touch him, or if he’d just touch me, then this wouldn’t all be such a big deal. Maybe we would get it out of our system and realise this thing between us is just amplified lust.

With a sigh, I remove my clothes, conceding my defeat as I step in the shower to get ready for this party. As the water rushes down over my body, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to have him touch me the way I want him to.
I’m so keyed up that my own hands, acting as his, slide over my skin, cupping my breasts, gliding over my wet stomach and down to my mound.

A quiet gasp escapes my lips as my fingers connect with my swollen nub. The thought of him, enough to increase the throbbing I feel inside. With two fingers, I enter myself, pulsing in and out, massaging that sweet spot just inside before pulling out and swirling my juices around my clit.