Page 16 of Finding Emotion

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Damon said.

Her smirk was back. “I don’t mind being in your dreams.” The door closed behind her, and he heard the snick of a lock turning.

Damon wasn’t offended. He hadn’t exactly been a gentleman around her. For some reason, it was the way her nails had dug into the couch that stayed with him. Despite initiating the offer, he was almost certain Skylar hadn’t wanted to have sex with him. His gaze slid to the door.

The pinched look in her eyes had indicated she had another headache, though he couldn’t imagine her using that excuse to get out of anything. His mother had often pretended she didn’t have one while she was sick, and he got the impression Skylar was like her in that way.

He pushed himself up from the couch to check out one of the other bedrooms. Hopefully, Skylar’s headache eased enough for her to get some sleep.

Chapter 9

Skylar woke up in a cold sweat, not surprised but pissed anyway. The goddamn memory was back in her nightmares. It was vague enough that she could shove it away as she scrambled from the bed. The whole damn incident was muddled because of the fucking drugs she’d been on.

Somehow, that had made it all more nightmarish. She was still weak as fuck for it to continue to plague her.

She dragged herself into the attached bathroom, turning on the taps as cold as she could stand it. The shower made her shiver, but it removed that sickly smell of sweat that made everything worse. Her fingers pressed against the tile as she let the water beat over her head and back. The water would have to be enough to clean her since she doubted she could handle even her own hands on herself. Soaping herself down wasn’t going to work.

Damon hadn’t made things any better with his offer to get her off. He’d be the type that would go for her clit. He was a giver like that, she’d bet.

Her body shuddered under the cold spray. She lifted her head, letting it pound her face instead. The tension headache that had threatened before she’d gone to sleep had come on full force, and was pounding now.

Exertion was one of the best things, but Mr. Sweetface had nixed the kind she’d wanted earlier. She’d planned to fuck him until they both collapsed, if he lasted that long. He’d had something to prove, though, so she’d had hope. Only apparently he didn’t fuck outside of a relationship.

That was just like him.

She dragged on some running shorts after her shower, and a top that would keep her chest from bouncing. The elderflower scent went on her neck so she could smell it without effort, but even it didn’t do shit. Fresh air would be best for the headache, but that wasn’t in the cards with the paparazzi camped out because of the clueless rock star. She reached for her cell, sure that Mandy had gotten the specifics on the hotel’s gym.

A text from Jack waited for her instead. ‘Why blocking tour? R U still not over it?’

Goddamn asshole. Yeah, like she was the one at fault. She typed out a ‘fuck off’ and went to block the new number.

Another text vibrated. ‘Slut.’

Skylar finished blocking him, then shot off a message to Mandy to have her number changed again. She didn’t bother asking about the gym. She’d figure it out herself.

Flipping the lock on the bedroom door, she stomped out before she remembered she had a roommate for the first time in forever. Another glance at her phone showed her she’d only been asleep a few hours. Damon probably needed more beauty rest than that.

Her phone beeped from a new text, and Skylar tossed it to the couch instead of looking. The phone bounced before plopping on the carpeted floor, but she didn’t care. Mandy always figured out where she’d gone, and the racing of her heart in her chest told her she didn’t need to check who the newest message was from. How he got through so many blocks, she wasn’t tech savvy enough to understand. She swiped the card for the elevator, shifting from foot to foot as she waited for it to climb up.

Hopefully no one would be down there. A full-out sprint on the treadmill was the best she could do to try to outrun the implosion that was coming—and not the fun kind. If Mandy found out, it’d be another trip to counseling and another coping mechanism that would only work temporarily.

The elevator dinged, and she moved forward. The damn mirrors flashed her image back at her. She didn’t look much like a rock star with her wet hair pulled back in a lopsided ponytail on her neck, a pale-ass complexion, and that skittering panic only too obvious in her eyes. She blinked, forcing her lips to curve into a smile she didn’t feel as she climbed on board anyway. Fuck it. She jabbed at the lobby button. She’d block everything behind the wall again once she was too tired for her thoughts to race.

At least the doors slid shut before Mr. Sweetface showed up and did something stupid, like ask her what was wrong.

Damon enjoyed the lethargy that weighed down his body as he climbed up from a deeper sleep than he’d had in a while. He hadn’t admitted to Jimmy that he’d been struggling to sleep lately. His manager would have teased him over his anxiety about his stalker again. It had been the gift that showed up while he was in the shower months ago. The thought of someone being able to stand over him and watch him sleep made him feel helpless. Insomnia wasn’t a great solution, but it hadn’t plagued him in Skylar’s suite.

The fact that the floor was restricted to card access itself had helped. Based on the social media he’d skimmed before conking out, it wasn’t like his staying in Skylar’s suite was a secret. Whatever it was, he woke up feeling better than he had in a long time, even if he had slept part of the day away.

He rolled over in bed, staring up at the white ceiling. Coming like a geyser the day before hadn’t hurt either. It had been a while, he realized. He’d avoided women the entire tour.

After her reaction earlier, the niggling idea that Skylar hadn’t sucked him off out of enjoyment had caught hold. He kind of hated that. Damon had never considered himself a user before, despite the groupies. He’d always given way more than he’d taken in orgasms. He loved the sleepy smile of a limp and content woman more than anything else.

Which was why his body had been raring to go after doing something that should have been platonic on the plane. Her surprise at the massage had shifted into something he hadn’t even realized he’d been craving.

He wondered if he should apologize to her again, but he figured she’d brush it off like she had before. She was more complicated than she let on.

He forced himself out of bed, knowing they needed to figure out what they were going to do about the fake dating thing today. He also was itching for a run. It was too bad he didn’t have his own stuff. He’d much rather slip into gym shorts than back into the nut-hugging jeans.

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