He’s not getting out of this. “If you weren’t an absolute dickhead, I’d think this was an apology.”
“Do you want an apology?”
“I want you to own up to your shit. You act like the world owes you everything but when it comes down to the people you love, you’re a coward.”
He chuckles, “Always telling me like it is. No wonder I can’t get you out of my mind.”
“An—wait, what?” Did he just admit that?
“Consider this me owning up to my shit, Rowland.” He holds out the joint. “Now, do you want some? Gotta work up that appetite.”
Taking another swig of the bottle in my hand, I walk over to where he’s sitting. He holds out the joint between two fingers and I snatch it before I’m taking a long pull.
“You’re sexy when you do that,” he says with a bite of his lip and god, my stomach’s wrenching.
I need another swig. “You’re insane.”
He chuckles. That deep rolling, intoxicating chuckle. I take another pull and I can feel my nerves starting to relax. My eyes dart around the bags, the smell of fried food in the air. While my stomach is yelling at me to eat, my appetite’s still not there. “We shouldn’t have all these candles out.”
Ignoring me, Damien pulls a black bag from behind him. There’s red tissue paper sticking out, the bag sparkly. It’s not too big, not too small. “Another one of your freaky little gifts?”
A devilish smirk creeps across his face and I’m likely right. “I know how much you like my toys deep inside you, as much as I like my cock deep inside you but no, this is something else.”
I reach for it but he grabs it and pulls it away. My head drops to the side, tangled curls going with it, “Really, Damien?” He’s still playing games and now I’m wondering what I’ll have to do to find out what’s inside. Damn my curiosity.
“You can have it. It’s for you, just … ” He reaches over and starts taking things out of one of the bags of food. “You gotta eat.”
He’s one to talk. “Damien, my appetite’s fucked.”
“I ordered everything I could think of. Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Indian … I know you like that exotic shit. I have pub grub too.”
It’s hard not to laugh at that, weed settling into my lungs and mind. “Pub grub? Do you even know what that is?”
“And,” he continues. “If all else fails, I got you some pho.” He takes a large plastic bowl out of the last bag. “But the spring rolls are mine.”
My shoulders fall when I see he’s remembered the one thing I’d eat when I was recovering from that gunshot in The Grove. The one I took for him. I can smell the broth from that Vietnamese soup from here. My tummy grumbles and it’s like he hears it because that smirk grows, but I still don’t think my appetite’s ready.
Sitting on the soft, fluffy rug I can feel the ice melting around my heart. Damien’s good at that. Putting up walls and tearing them down. “Thanks. But I still don’t feel that hungry.”
“You’re withering away, Rowland,” he growls, tipping a bag over like his frustration is building. “Eat or I’ll make you.”
That makes something stir in my stomach but I ignore it. “You haven’t been eating either.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t?” I arch an eyebrow and when he doesn’t answer, the joint coming to his lips, my jaw clenches. I don’t know if it’s the whiskey or the pent-up aggression but I lay in. “I do, Damien. I notice every fucking thing about you. I notice when you’re sober or totally fucked up. I notice the little jaw twitch you get when someone’s pissed you off because I get the same. And I notice when you’re too much of a pussy to admit when you care about someone. It’s like you self-destruct or something.” I take another swig, not losing our eye contact.
I take a breath, Damien eyeing me with narrow eyes. He doesn’t say anything, dead air going between us as the song ends and I’m starting to wish I hadn’t said anything at all. Starting to wish I didn’t come here until he says, “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
My brows lower. “Are you really being a cocky fuck right now?”
“Are you really not gonna eat?”
“No! No, I’m not.” Crossing my arms like a brat, I don’t ignore him ignoring me.
“Looks like I’m going to have to work up that appetite.” He moves the food out of the way, moving closer to me on his knees like a wolf on the hunt. He looks primal. Animalistic as always.
“Damien, wait.” I’m starting to back away, my heart racing as I make contact with that lusty look in his eyes.