Page 14 of Remembering Passion

Using his hand holding my shoes, he reached out, keeping the doors open. At the same time, Damien ran his thumb over my bruised lips and moved his focus to my eyes. “You were saying?”

Smoldering desire clouded my mind.

“I don’t remember.”

He took my hand in his, and we stepped from the elevator.

“We could go to my room, or you can tell me where your room is.”

No. Going to his room was a bad idea.

My room.

Alone.

That was the plan.

“This way,” I said, tugging his hand.

As we approached the door to my suite, I slowed our steps.

This was a dream, and I didn’t want it to end.

But end it would.

Damien knew the secrets to my desires. He’d fanned the flames capable of consuming me. His kiss was only the start. If I allowed this to go further, for him to enter my suite, he’d consume me, sucking me into the depths of his stare.

“Damien,” I said, lifting my chin.

His finger came to my lips. “Fuck, Ella. I’ve missed you.” He looked into my eyes. “Tell me you haven’t missed me.”

I had.

I’d tried to forget the passion.

I had—for a while.

Lowering his finger, he came closer. This kiss was softer.

“I’ve missed you. I want you,” I confessed. “It’s taken me over two years to forget you…”

“I never forgot you.”

Inhaling, I shook my head. “I’m still trying. If I let you in tonight, it will take me back to the beginning. I can’t do that. I won’t be a lucky one-night stand, not with you.”

“It won’t be like that.”

I brushed my lips over his stubbly cheek and gathered my shoes and satchel. “Call me, Damien.”

“Will you answer?”

I hadn’t.

Two years ago, I’d refused his calls and deleted his text messages.

The green light flashed on my door as I tapped the key. With a smile over my shoulder, I answered, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Damien

---