Page 95 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
I glance up as she walks in.
"Hello, Damian."
31
Julia
Of course, I expected him to know when I had walked into his house. Just because Karina had given me the passwords to his gates and to his front door didn’t mean Damian was going to be unaware of when I’d entered his domain. I fully expected him to be waiting for me… I hadn’t expected the impact of how it would be to see Daddy D, in his own surroundings, in a pair of sweats and a thin black T that hugs his torso and clings to his abs and shows off the angle of his beautiful shoulders…
OMFG. A bead of sweat runs down my back. I glance around, taking in the cozy surroundings, the faded leather of the settee, the bookshelves, the drum set in a corner, a piano at the other side, with the thick rug in front of the fire that begs to be used and caressed. Like me…my skin, my heart. I rub the skin over my chest.
"You okay?" He frowns.
No.
No.
I nod, gesture to the space. "This is not what I expected."
"I didn’t expect to see you here, either."
"Umm." I shuffle my feet. "Me, neither."
"And yet, here you are."
"You don’t seem too surprised."
"I’m not." He frowns. "I suppose it had to happen."
"What?"
“You deciding to take a tour of my place, wanting to see how I live, wanting to get close to me. It’s normal."
"It is?" I frown.
"Uh-huh." He rubs his chest and his biceps bulge. The sleeve of his T-shirt pulls tight against his muscles. Whoa! Surely, the cloth’s gonna snap any second? I swallow.
"It’s my overpowering charisma, my larger-than-life personality, my magnetism." He tilts his head. "Admit it, you had to see me again."
"I… I." I take a step inside, and stare at the rat’s-ass of a man, every inch a rock star, with the tattoos that peek over the collar of his T-shirt. How weird. He’s been inside me, and I haven’t even seen him completely naked.
"What are you hiding?" I frown.
His features freeze, "What do you mean?"
"I’ve never seen you without your clothes." I take in the inverted triangle of his torso, the tapered waist, the corded thighs that stretch the material of his sweats, his feet…which are naked. My throat dries. His beautiful toes, large feet...and wide, with toenails that are blunt cut. I can’t take my gaze off of them… My thighs clench. Jesus. Clearly, I have a foot fetish.
"I began sculpting you from memory."
"Excuse me?"
I jerk my chin up to meet his gaze, "I began working on your bust."Why am I telling him that? Is it to try to catch him off balance? Is it to try to get my brain, which is stuck in some kind of Damian Savage sex-filled haze, to kickstart and function again?
"You didn’t need me to pose then?"
"Your features are etched in my mind." Heat sears my cheeks, but I don’t look away.What the hell am I trying to do here?Fessing up like that? Walking in here without a plan seemed all brave, but this, faced with six-feet four-inches of lethal alpha male, in his den… On his turf, where he knows the rules and I don’t…? OMG… How stupid can I get? I take a step back; he shakes his head.
I angle my body toward the exit; he holds up his phone. He taps a finger on the screen and the door to the study begins to swing closed.
