Page 39 of Unmasked

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LAINEY’SHEARTTHUNDEREDlike fists beating against drums as Damian led her from the restaurant. This was the moment she’d never dared to hope for—having him, without disguises or trickery. She might have said it was just sex, but her heart knew differently. With him it would always be more, even if she wouldn’t admit it aloud.

At least she knew Damian would look after her. He was exactly the kind of guy she’d always wanted but never chased. The kind who had his head screwed on properly, who made her feel boneless and tingly. He was the complete package, perfection in man form...well, except for his inability to loosen up. But she was going to help him with that.

His clear eyes searched her face, trying to figure her out as they walked along the boulevard. The night air was balmy against her bare arms and legs, doing little to cool the inferno inside. Focusing on the strength of his arm around her, Lainey put one foot in front of the other and concentrated on keeping her balance in her stilettos.

The world felt like it was spinning around her, due as much to the way reality had rushed back as to the drinks. They rounded the corner and walked through the doors of a fancy hotel. Damian’s face was hard, his mouth a slash across his movie star–handsome features. The hotel lobby gleamed, every surface polished and trimmed in gold. A heavy chandelier hung in the centre of the room, sending fractured light in all directions. Her eyes couldn’t focus for all the blinding, dazzling finery.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“You said you wanted to stay the night.”

Her stomach dropped. “You’re outsourcing me to a hotel?”

Heat crawled up her neck, blooming in her cheeks. So he was happy to fuck her but he wouldn’t take her back to his place? Had she really read him that poorly?

He raked a hand through his short, black-brown hair. “I’m taking you home.”

“Here?”

“Yes, here.” He steered her away from the reception desk and toward a set of gleaming elevators.

“I don’t understand.”

It didn’t make sense. Damian McKnight didn’t live in a hotel. She and Corinna had crashed at his apartment plenty of times. He had a glorious view of Southbank and the river, a coffee machine that made the perfect cappuccino, and a couch that was softer than the clouds in heaven. He had a home. A real one.

“I live here.” He sighed and jabbed the up button with his forefinger. “For the moment.”

“And you’ve been keeping it secret?”

“Not specifically.” His voice sounded brittle. “But Corinna knows I’m a private guy, in case you’re wondering why she didn’t tell you.”

Strange. It definitely sounded like there was a story there.

An elevator chimed and the doors slid open, beckoning them inside. Mirrored walls reflected her confusion as she searched Damian’s face. But he avoided her gaze, pressing the button for the top floor. Her ears popped as they rose higher and higher, the silence only broken by the chime that let them know they’d arrived.

The hallway of the hotel was quiet, and only a few doors dotted the walls. They stopped at the first one and Damian let them in, holding it open for her like he always did. The perfect gentleman.

“Whoa.”

Melbourne’s skyline painted the windows that ran the length of the room. Lights in every colour blinked and bathed everything in a twinkling glow. Damian deposited his key card into a slot by the door and the lights came on.

The suite was larger than most city apartments. It even had a dining table and a study area. Lainey rushed forward and stood at the window, her palms pressed against the glass. The view at his old place had been good, but not as good as this. It felt as though she were suspended in midair, flying above the city and away from her doubts.

“This is amazing.” Her breath fogged the glass and she turned to find Damian watching her intently.

“It’s temporary,” he corrected, and held out a hand to her. “Come on, it’s bedtime for you, princess...before you turn into a pumpkin.”

He looked as though he belonged in this room, his crisp shirt and inky suit every bit as luxurious as the gold trimmings and soft lighting. She, by comparison, felt awkward in her too-tall heels and too-expensive dress. What was she doing here?

He led her to the bedroom, and her breath caught in her throat. Damian loosened the collar of his shirt, revealing a smattering of dark hair. She knew for a fact that it sprinkled the rest of him, too—decorating him in all the right places.

She wondered how it might feel to have the weight of him pressing her into the bed. To straddle him and watch his face contort with pleasure in the moonlight. She reached for him. Her movements were clumsy, nerves stripping away her motor skills.

He watched her, eyes wide and pupils blacker than night, while he drew a long breath and squared his shoulders. Lainey knew the signs well; she’d seen them that first time she’d tried to kiss him, three years ago. His first instinct had been to respond, but as quick as it had started, he’d pulled back. Now he looked the same, with tension bunching his muscles. She would not let Damian run, not when she’d finally found a way to make the sadness in her heart seem conquerable. Under his gentle exploration she felt renewed, alive. Safe.

“I promised myself I’d never go here,” he said.

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