Page 65 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
“I know that look. It means you’re in your head,” he said, frowning. His fingers skirt my face and turn my head gently to look at his beautiful face. He pulls me back to the bed.
“What’s going on?” He looks worried. I want to yell that it’s not him at all, it’s me.
“I’m not really used to this,” I admitted shyly, gesturing to our bodies. He frowned and pulled me closer. I’d get a small thrill whenever he did.
“Sex?”
I shook my head. “Being intimate.”
Something clicked and he nodded.
“I haven’t done anything like this for a while and I didn’t think I’d get to with you,” I continued. Oh my exposed heart.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you care about me,” he teased lightly.
I nodded.
His face took on a bemused expression. “Wait. Were you seriously wondering if I enjoyed it?”
“Maybe?” The insecure beast that I have rolling around inside is choosing a particularly vindictive time to surface. Ugh, weren’t most post coital chats flirty and not emotional? I think I’m wrecking everything again. He looked down at me with a beatific gaze.
“Sweetheart, I have some…intensely strong feelings for you. What we just did was mind-blowing. I have absolutely no regrets.” His tender expression was almost too much for the fluttering in my heart and his tone left no doubts. I angled my eyes up to catch his.
His gaze itself is so very intense, intimate, dare I say…loving? His fingertips skim my jawline, up to the corner of my ear while the other hand rakes through the crown of my hair.
“You have been, my nymph, my greatest joy and chief tormentor in this life,” he murmured. “I heard what you told Filla.”
The revelation caused me to jolt in his arms, but he held fast. “I thought I misheard at first. I don’t think I can live without you either, sweetheart.” His voice was low, guarded, for only my ears.
He reached over and pulled the blanket up to cover us.
“Damien?” I take my hand off his chest to slide my own fingers down his neck, savoring the muscle and blood, the life flowing through his veins. “I’m not really used to being taken care of,” I said quietly.
“Same. We’ll work on it,” he reasoned. “When you want me or need me, I’ll be here.” He pulled his large graceful hands down my neck to the tops of my breasts. “I felt…unworthy of you before. I couldn’t be the person I wanted to be for you. Not if I was barely keeping it together. But now, it’s different…so entirely different. I would like to be with you, my nymph, as long as you’ll let me.” A small loving smile graced the curve of his lips.
I pushed myself up to kiss him again. His lips were soft, strong. I could feel him start to suffuse with blood against my leg. After all this time of wanting him, I was finally letting myself have him. No overthinking. No regrets. Walls down, gloves off.
“Forever, Damien. I want forever.”
His ardor increased with my words and any reason or logic switched off. There was just Dae. With his ridiculously muscular back and clean scent with a tang of sweat drifting around me. Dae, with his reverent hands and clever fingers. Dae, with those coal-black eyes that held nothing but warmth. Dae, with his strong arms anchoring me to his body. We were bolder during this second exploration, somehow more incensed and insistent than the first. When he entered me this time, I gasped, feeling the fullness, and slight burn. His touch coaxed out my desire and I became sole witness to his devotion. These moments were full of bliss, utter delight and a wonder of why I ever waited so long. He made me cry out again in pleasure before too long. I didn’t try to get up this time. I just stayed, wrapped in my sheets and him. I guess I found my own heart in the process of finding his.
CHAPTER 18
“Cora, wake up,” Damien said urgently.
I fly up at his tone. Post coital cuddling had led to falling asleep, nude.
“Someone’s in your house.” He had pulled pants back on and was looking around my room. “You don’t have a gun, do you?”
“Gods, no,” I hissed. “Wait a sec. I think I know who this is,”
“Seriously? It’s twelve in the morning.” An annoyed look crossed his face.
I wrap myself in the long purple bathrobe.
“I promise you it’s OK. Stay put,” I insisted and walked out of my bedroom.
Finneas is sitting in my kitchen, looking lumpy but immaculate in a well-tailored charcoal suit.
