Page 45 of Rekindling Desire

My mind went to another woman.

She’d left me but only physically.

Ella came to my mind more often than I would like.

While pushing my cock into Amber’s asshole as she begged for more, I’d have flashes of the one who never let me do that.

It made no fucking sense.

I craved control, especially in the bedroom, and still my thoughts went to the woman who while fantastic in bed, gave me limits—guardrails, so to speak.

Fully dressed, I sorted through the papers we’d left on Amber’s counter.

My stomach dropped as I held up the license.

I remembered earlier in the afternoon.

“Let’s do it,” Amber said. “My mom will be ecstatic.”

“Don’t you want a wedding?” I asked.

“This is just the license. In Indiana it’s good for sixty days. We’ll plan a ceremony.” Her eyes opened wider. “On the canal. It will be gorgeous.”

My mind went to my probation. This would end it almost two years early. One less thing to deal with. The excitement on Amber’s face was contagious. “Can you plan a wedding in two months?”

“I can do it. After all, Damien Sinclair should have the best and biggest wedding Indianapolis has ever seen. Our pictures will be all over social media and local business journals. The marriage of the century.”

If yesterday was day one, Amber and I had fifty-nine days to make the license legal. All we needed was the officiant’s signature.

I couldn’t ignore the sense of doom hanging over me. I was a man who took what he wanted, but I knew that what I wanted or who I wanted wasn’t Amber Wilmott.

Pulling out my phone, I hit my sister’s number.

“Are you dead? If you’re not, call back in the morning.”

“Dani.”

There must have been something in my voice.

“Are you okay?” She sounded more awake.

“I’m kind of…I thought if I could talk…never mind. Get some sleep.”

“Damien,” she said, “where are you? Do you need me to come and get you?”

“I was wondering if I could come to you.”

“Yes. Of course. Have you been drinking?”

“No, but if you have bourbon, get it out.”

After disconnecting the call, I shone the light from my phone on the license. Everything within me wanted to rip it—to tear it in half. However, if I did, I also feared I’d fatally damage my position at Sinclair.

If I didn’t tear the paper, maybe Amber and I could work out a truce.

Instead of ripping the license, I crumpled it, and finding another piece of paper, I wrote a note. Yes, it was probably the coward’s way, but at least I wasn’t ending our relationship via a text or a tweet.

Amber,

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