Page 42 of Stick Handled

My hands slide from her face, tracing the curve of her neck before dipping beneath the strap of the satin tank top. My fingers brush against the soft skin of her collarbone.

The moment stretches, a simmering intensity between us that fills every inch of the space, every pulse of her heartbeat against mine. When I finally pull back, she’s breathless, her gaze unfocused, and I lean down, brushing my lips close to her ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Chapter fifteen

~AVERY~

My heart is pounding beneath Damien’s gaze, and all of my senses are on fire. My mind is running, all voices of reason screaming at me to apologize and go home, to stop this before it’s too late. But as the ghost of Damien’s lips on mine lingers, my hands still clutching onto his shirt, I realize there’s no going back. I can’t fight this any longer; I can’t pretend I’m not dying to experience everything I’ve missed out on. And I don’t want to experience it with anyone else but Damien.

Now, here I am, alone with him. There’s no Rowan nearby to save me and no Sarah to give me a nudge of courage—just Damien, watching me like he’s already decided exactly how this night’s going to end.

“You look a little scared.” His voice is a low murmur.

My heart hammers louder than it has any right to, and my mouth feels dry.

“I… no,” I say, but the waver in my voice betrays me. He just chuckles, his gaze darkening, and it’s a look I’ve never seen from him before. It’s dangerous and unreadable, like I’m the only thing he’s hunting tonight.

He lifts his hand, dragging his thumb across my cheek, tracing down slowly, deliberately, until it settles on my jaw, tilting my head up. His touch is gentle, but there’s a roughness to the way his thumb lingers on my skin, sending tiny electric pulses racing down my spine.

“You could still walk away.” The words roll out low and dark, and he leans in until his mouth is just a breath away from my ear. “Or maybe you’d rather take your chances here with me.”

A shiver runs through me, and I can’t decide if it’s fear or something far more potent. He leans in, his lips grazing the edge of my neck, and suddenly, I can barely breathe.

“So… what’s it gonna be?”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m aware that we’re standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, visible to anyone who might look this way. A thrill of something forbidden and reckless twists inside me, and I swallow, my voice barely a whisper.

“Here… here is fine.”

He straightens and steps back just enough to watch me, one dark brow quirking up. There’s that smile and a flash of something possessive in his gaze.

“Fine, huh?” he says, voice thick with amusement, as if he’s savoring every second of my discomfort. “I’ll show you fine.”

He reaches out, tracing the edge of my tank top strap with the lightest touch. Then his hand shifts down, settling on the small of my back and pulling me closer. I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tremor that his touch sends skittering down my spine.

“I think youarescared, little liar.” His gaze pierces mine, and I can feel every nerve in my body on edge.

“I…” I trail off, breathless. I know he can feel my pulse pounding beneath his fingertips. “Should I be?”

He gives me a small smile, raising a brow. Without warning, he spins me around, so now I’m facing the door, and he has his back to it.

And before I can catch my breath, he’s walking me backward, closer to the massive couch I spotted somewhere behind me. The lights are dim, so I can’t see the massive space well, but it’s different than what I’d expected. There are dark and earthy tones, accentuated by the soft lights, making his house feel even more intimate and sensual.

“Damien…” My voice wavers as he steps closer, his fingers trailing down my arm in a touch that’s light as a whisper. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, but his gaze never leaves mine, never lets me look away as he closes in, an intensity in his eyes that’s as thrilling as it is terrifying. His scent envelops me, clean yet sharp and dark, his cologne mixed with his body wash.

And then he stops, pausing just inches away, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “Do you know,” he murmurs, his voice as dark as the night outside, “how long I’ve stood there, watching you in your room.”

My face heats up, my mind racing to the window, to the knowledge that he’s been watching me without me knowing. Heat rushes up to my cheeks as the embarrassment kicks in.

“What did you see?” My voice trails off as he leans in again, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

“Something I want.”

He takes my chin between his fingers, holding me in place as he leans in, his lips hovering just out of reach, teasingly close, his eyes dark with that unspoken challenge. And God help me, I don’t want him to stop.

My breathing comes faster, and I realize he can feel it, too. He’s drinking in my reaction. His fingers trace the line of my collarbone, dipping just enough to make my pulse race even more.

---