“It must have been the wind,” Damion says, trying to convince a very – when he wants to be – intelligent male, that the wind blew the pot plant, from the windowsill in a sheltered area, on a totally windless night. It’s as dumb as the stupid cactus.
Enrique is still standing right there. I close my eyes … as if that’s gonna summon up the power of invisibility. But you never know your luck in a small town. One, two, and I can’t for the hell of it remember what comes after two. Four. Five. Six.
He turns and walks back to the house.
“Shit, I think hell just froze over.” Never mind hell, I feel like a large scoop of brain-freeze myself.
His voice is further away so I count on to ten and let out the breath I was holding. Fucking jittersticks, that was close! I risk peeping around the corner.
No one is in sight. But I stay put. Trying to maintain normal body stats. Regular heart rate – check. Regular breathing – check.
“Mel, you can come out now,” Damion whisper-shouts.
I walk into the kitchen, still feeling the rush from almost getting caught spilling over me.
It is almost as pulverizing as that kiss. Almost.
Damion pours coffee into the cups that nearly cost us our lives and then he shoves me up the stairs and into his room.
“Let’s stay out of sight, just in case the lunatic doubles back to spy on me.” Makes total sense in our world – for sure something my brothers would do.
I slowly lower myself to sit on the end of the bed. He lights up the fireplace, and I focus on him. Not exactly a hardship given that perfect male ass.
I’m not sure how I manage to speak and think while drooling over the way his muscles bunch as he removes his hoodie, but I get the words out right: “You know, this is something completely new for me.”
I stare at those rock-hard pecs and six-pack abs, the low-hanging pants, and I feel my stomach tighten at the sight of his tattoos. A yin-yang circle with hearts instead of dots and the number 13 in the middle, about the size of a big coin, is drawn on his left side underneath his arm. Above that are the Peter Pan words. And on his bicep, The Reaper logo. It’s sexy as shit.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Ditto, angel. It’s my first time too.” He coughs sheepishly and I can see he’s very bit as unnerved as I am. “I’ve never slept with a girl before. And I definitely never had one in my bed.” What he says sounds outrageously unimaginable and of course, my brain-to-mouth filter gets bypassed.
“I’m not going to sleep with you just so you can keep your manhood from falling off.” Where that comes from I’m not sure. Maybe because I secretly want to sleep with him, or maybe the good Samaritan in me doesn’t want him to lose his dick.
“Well, if you don’t want to sleep, we could always stay awake.” He takes my empty cup and puts it on the table. Then he pulls the bedding back and slides into the bed.
“You coming or are you gonna sit there the whole night,” he seems amused. Truthfully I haven’t made up my mind yet.
“What did you mean you’ve never slept with a girl before? I know you’re not a virgin.”
“I have rules I follow. It keeps me in control so to speak. On the straight and narrow if you want.” He seems really serious about this.
“I guess you’re familiar with the term hit-and-run … or pump-and-dump?” I nod. I know what it means.
“That sums up Rule 6. And it means that I’ve never slept … or cuddled with any girl before and no female has ever been in this bed.”
“So you want to tell me that no girl ever slept in this house?”
“No, never.” He hesitates. “Except for Thalia and Mom.” Thalia again. What exactly is she to him? Like Axel is to me? Or more?
I cautiously move into the bed next to him, he pulls me into his arms and covers us with the quilt, as I let out a long shaky breath. I lay super still, my head on his bare shoulder, my mouth inches from the pulsing vein in his neck.
And as if it’s draining every last brain cell, I come up with the stupidest idea ever. A reckless crazy horrible idea that most likely will go wrong in every possible way I can’t even think of, just to blow up in my face as a last resort, and trample my soul to finish it off.
But I love it.
“Damion?” I look up at him. His eyes are closed as if he’s halfway asleep, but his fingers are playing with my hair.
“Um.”
“You know when you said at Logan’s party that I don’t know what I’m doing?” He opens one eye.
“Mm.”
“Well, will you teach me?” His eyes jolt open and he chokes on some spit, pushing me away and sitting up straight, coughing.
“What?” he cracks when he finishes coughing, holding me by my shoulders. Our eyes lock.
“You know … show me what to do. I’m tired of being a virgin. And you’ve done it like a zillion times so you must be pretty good.” I can see he’s shocked.
“It’s not like a zillion times … Fuck!” He shakes his head lightly as if to clear his thoughts.
“Wait,” he grunts, “You want me to teach you how to fuck … tonight? Right now?” It seems he’s having a hard time believing it.
“Please.” I give him my best smile.
“Pass.” I don’t get it. Here I am offering him free sex and he’s not taking it.
“Why?” I feel slightly embarrassed.
“Because that’s not what I want.” He pauses. “Not from you.” Now I feel truly embarrassed and a blush flashes over my face to heat the tips of my ears.
“What do you want from me then?” I pout.
“Everything,” he whispers, sliding a thumb over my bottom lip. “I want every fucking thing. And I want to do it right and I want to take my time.” I’m not exactly sure what he means but it sounds much better than my half-baked idea.
He wraps an arm around my waist, then tugs a surprised gasp out of me when he jabs me forward against his chest. He bends his head and nuzzles his face against my throat.
“Melaena Blackburn, will you have dinner with me tomorrow?” he whispers and my body goes weaker than overcooked noodles.