Page 80 of Filthy and the Beast

Damian gathers up stray dishes, his face fallen, his expression sagging.

Something’s wrong.

I fucked up. He didn’t like it when I yelled, or he was embarrassed I acted so awkward, or—I don’t know what. But he’s not as happy as he was earlier, and I’m sure it’s my fault.

“Hey.” Heart pounding, I revisit every awkward moment from the night. “You okay there?”

Quickly, he summons a genuine smile, but his shoulders still sag. “Yeah. I had a great night.” He sets the glasses down and yawns. “Sorry. Just got really tired.”

“Shit. Of course. You do this all night at the bar. Let me clean up.”

Before I can pick up the glasses, Damian takes my hands. His touch surprises me.

I needed it more than I realized.

“Thanks for hosting game night with me,” he says. “You had a good time?”

“I did.” I rub his hands. “I didn’t do anything too embarrassing?”

He laughs warmly. “Not in the least. You were a wonderful host.”

I nod, relieved. He wouldn’t lie to me. “Good.”

Damian yawns again, pulling his hand to his mouth. “Sorry!” He rubs his forehead. “I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night with stress dreams about the bar.”

I tighten my brow. I don’t like that. He needs his sleep.

Keeps saying how much the job makes him anxious. He shouldn’t have to work so damn hard.

I stroke his cheek. “Go. Get ready for bed. I’ll clean up.” Damian hesitates, but I won’t let him. “I insist. You did all the work to prepare. Now it’s my turn.”

He wants to argue, but he’s too tired. With a relieved smile, Damian nods. “Okay. Thanks, Enzo.”

I kiss him quickly. “Sure.”

He wanders toward the downstairs guest bathroom, and I make myself busy. Feels good to tidy up, taking care of Damian and his friends, too. Feels right, and I’m grateful for the opportunity.

Want to always take care of him, same way he takes care of me, makes me feel okay when I’m acting like a big oaf.

When I get things mostly put back together, I realize Damian didn’t come to say goodnight before heading upstairs. I walk out toward the front of the mansion. He's sleeping on the big leather couch in the living room. The blue stuffed dog with the poker cards is next to him and his phone in his hand. Must have fallen asleep looking at it.

I walk over. Consider waking him, but he looks so peaceful. Instead, I pull a throw blanket over him, gently tuck him in.

My chest feels that way it feels lately.

Never seen a more beautiful sight than Damian peacefully at sleep.

Pretty sure I never will, either.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

DAMIAN

After game night,I can’t deny what I’m feeling any longer. Hiding with Enzo in our fantasy world, tucked away in his big old house, is one thing. Seeing him with my friends, though, made it all real.

This isn’t just sex. He fits into my world perfectly. Even though trying to host obviously stressed him out, he made time to talk with each of my friends individually, welcoming everyone to his house and shaking hands like a gentleman. And Enzo didn’t resist game time at all. Though it’s not his thing, he hunkered down and played like a champ, half-smiling and flipping through his bird cards, trash-talking with Reggie. Even when he got stressed and yelled a little too loud, my friends all accepted him the way I do.

He fit with us, not only with me.

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