Page 48 of Finding Emotion

“But I doubt it’s something you’re into. No wonder you don’t want sex.” She sighed, letting her hand drop. “What the hell are we doing? I’m all wrong for you.”

Damon reached for her, but his hands hovered. “You’re amazing, Skylar.”

She snorted. “That’s just the prior orgasms talking.”

“I did enjoy touching you,” he admitted. “But, you know what? Sleeping together was even better.”

“Call a spade a spade, sweet face. What we did in the gym was fucking.”

Damon shook his head. “Sleeping, Skylar. I’m talking about how you rested against me last night.” A tremor shook his hands when he still didn’t touch her. “That’s what I was hoping for tonight.”

Her back tingled from the ghost of his remembered strokes. She was pretty sure if he tried, she’d fall apart. “I don’t—” She swallowed as the denial caught in her throat. “Not tonight.”

“I’d never touch you without permission,” Damon said. His hands dropped back to his sides. She was still too close for him to slip by her. “If it’s space you need, I can give you that. Move back a little.”

Her legs locked in place. The way he stared at her made her feel weak. It reminded her how breakable she was, but there was a warmth inside, too, and a craving she hadn’t ever felt. It wasn’t like when she’d weaned off the drugs and alcohol. It wasn’t a need. No, there was an itch under her skin as she considered letting his hands smooth over her back, and a yearning she had no clue what to do about.

“Hold still,” she murmured, moving her body closer to him. Inch by inch she lowered her head, resting it against his chest. His heart beneath her ear was faster than she expected. Her eyes moved to the front of his jeans. Damon still wasn’t aroused. He really was sweet, given how even this amount of touching made him nervous. “All right, try my back.”

His hands came up, but while the slow circles on her back felt good, the cage of his arms had her stomach roiling again. Phantom laughter filled her ears. “No,” she gasped, and his hands immediately dropped.

She was so fucking weak. Nips almost of teeth slid under her skin, but she couldn’t shut her eyes to deal with it. No, then the memory would take her for real.

“Let’s sit on the couch,” Damon suggested.

Her eyes found his, expecting to find pity there. The moonlight did make his eyes soft, but it was almost like hope fluttered in them.

“You still want to try this?”

“You told me before. It’s about control.” He nodded toward the couch. “If I sit first, you can decide what feels right.”

Skylar moved aside so he could escape. He walked over to the couch, settling into a corner. She hesitated before following, plopping herself far enough away not to touch him, but not hiding in the opposite corner. She frowned down at his jeans.

“If you showered, why’d you put on the same thing again?”

His hands moved over the faded material. “These are my favorite. Comfort clothes.”

“Huh.” Skylar didn’t have any of those. She tilted toward him, finding it cute when his hands abruptly lifted from his legs. Her cheek liked the slide of the worn jeans as she rested her head in his lap, mostly on the one thigh. “Hmm. Soft,” she murmured.

It wasn’t as good as lying on his chest. There was no heartbeat in his thigh. But her own slowed. Her hands didn’t ache for the first time that night, burrowing between her knees instead of clutching at herself in panic.

“Not bad,” she said, letting herself relax. “But warn me before your dick decides to poke me in the face.”

He made a choked sound. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” The reality of those words surprised her. She stared at the windows, where the light shifted as the clouds continued to play hide-and-seek with the moon.

Their breathing filled the silence, steady and calm.

“Maybe my hair?” she suggested. “You know, that scalp thing you do.” Tension filled her shoulders as she wondered how her brain would react.

His hand lowered until his fingers sifted through the hair over her ear. The tingles were immediate, but no memories rose. That made sense. No one had ever touched her hair before Damon. She couldn’t even remember her mother brushing it, though maybe Jami had, but even that wasn’t clear.

Her shoulders loosened as he kept up the scalp massage. He only used one hand. She focused on the gentle movement, letting everything else fade away even as she kept her eyes open and staring.

Lethargy drifted over her body. There was no way, she told herself, but her legs uncurled along the couch as her hands lay loose near her stomach. She might really be able to sleep for the second night in a row. If she listened to his heartbeat, she’d be lost. “I wish I could lie on your chest again.”

“We can try. Lift up.”

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