Page 12 of Chosen

“I don’t care if you invade my privacy,” I admitted, with a boldness that made me wonder if the wine was already making its way through my system.

For a moment, I could have sworn that something heated flashed behind Damon’s gaze.

But just as quickly, it was gone.

He offered me a small smile as he took another sip of his wine.

* * *

“I’ll have to try that Moscato again sometime,” Damon started, as we stood side-by-side at the sink. We were cleaning dishes assembly line style, with Damon washing and me drying.

“Are you saying it’s better than your usual whiskey?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He smirked. “Still, though. It was pretty good.”

“Next time, we can try the whiskey—” I stopped myself, mid-sentence, embarrassment written all over my face. “I mean, not that there’ll be a next time—I mean, how many times are we going to get trapped in a storm like this together—”

“I wouldn’t mind if there was a next time,” Damon interrupted, with a smile. “Maybe we could catch up at some point? Sometime during your stay?”

“Wouldn’t that be against protocol?”

“I don’t think it’s against protocol to catch up with someone, no.”

“What if I wanted to do more than just catch up with you?” The question came out low, just as Damon’s fingers brushed against mine, a plate silently passing between us.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. I’m just being stupid.” I tried to play the moment off, setting the plate down on a towel. “Please, forget it? I think I just had a little too much wine—”

Before I could finish speaking, I felt Damon’s fingers softly wrap around my wrist, steadying me in place.

“What did you mean by that, Sam?” he asked again, something I couldn’t quite decipher in his tone. He moved his fingers from my wrist to the bottom of my chin, forcing me to match his gaze. “Tell me. What’s really on your mind?”

“You,” I admitted with a laugh, already shaking my head. “But I’m sure you get that all the time. I can’t be the first guest you’ve had at Wild Woods who thought you were hot. But the good thing about me is that I’m not an idiot. And I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Damon. I mean it. I’m sorry for even bringing this up—”

Damon cut me off with a kiss.

I let myself melt into it, even though I could barely comprehend what was happening.

Is Damon Anderson actually kissing me right now?

Or had I passed out somewhere in the woods and now my brain was just hallucinating?

Would they find my body before the bears got to it?

“Too far?” Damon quietly asked, his face still just inches away from mine.

“No way.” I grinned before I closed the distance between us, my hands going toward either side of his face as I pulled him into another kiss. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world, my lips pressed against Damon’s, even though only a few minutes ago I couldn’t even imagine it.

He responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue parting my lips as he explored my mouth, his hands shifting down to my waist. I moved my hands toward his hips, too, only to feel Damon take my wrists into his grip and press my palms back against the sink’s counter.

Bossy x 3.

He then moved his mouth toward my neck, leaving a trail of kisses up and down my skin. One of his hands slid up my shirt, not stopping until his fingers were making their way across my chest. I groaned when I felt him brush a thumb across one of my nipples, my body somehow already so responsive to his touch. His hips seemed to respond to my groan by pushing even further against me, his frame crowding me against the sink, our bodies slotted together.

“Wait, wait, wait…,” I let out a staggered breath, as I felt Damon’s cock, already hard and pressing against my thigh.

“You don’t want to?” He stopped in place, concern filling his gaze. “Shit. I’m sorry—”

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