“You scare the shit out of me,” I confess. It’s true. There’s no use denying it.
“Your first time?” he whispers.
“Yes, I want you … but that’s not what scares me.”
“What then?”
“The uncertainty. That’s what’s frickin killing me.” I laugh somberly, “Just about a month ago I would have run you over with a car if I found you walking alone.”
“And now I’m kissing you.” Needing a distraction I sit up straight. “I don’t need you to promise me a forever after with a white picket fence -” He plummets his brows.
“I just need to know what to expect from this so I can prepare the right armor.” He also sits up.
“I mean …” A blush heats my ears. “If we’re going to spend some naked time together, there should at least be some communication … trust, honesty … maybe even friendship, don’t you think?”
“For sex, we don’t need any of that,” he starts and I bite my lip, hoping for him to say more … anything more. “But on Oprah, they said that trust is a big thing in a relationship.” I’m not sure what shock me more – hearing the word relationship coming from his mouth, or the fact that he watches Oprah.
“Well, you broke my trust and we for sure as hell never been friends.” His face matches my ambiance. I know that I can trust him, like my brothers, with my life. With my heart … not so much.
“So how about we make a pact?” I’m a little wary. I’m not sure I can win against him. But thinking that losing might not be that bad if the penalty includes something sexual.
“And what would the bounty be if I lose?” My voice is a low porny hush. He smiles improperly. “Oh, angel, you’re making things hard.” He jiggles. “In more ways than one.”
“But I was thinking more of a formal agreement, not a challenge,” he says. “I want to suggest that we should become friends first … and go from there. I want to earn your trust.”
I stare at him, looking for any sign of mockery, but I find none. He’s actually serious.
“We need to go, it’s time for that dance meeting you have.” I almost forgot about the class we’re teaching. He gets up and holds out his hand. I take it and we walk downstairs finding the others in a huge country-style kitchen.
“Hello, dear,” Haley greets with a warm smile, “You were dragged away so fast before, I couldn’t even get a word in.” They’re all watching, and though I can’t be certain, I think they look a little bemused.
I nod and smile at her, feeling slightly demeaned. She’s right.
“Kiara we need to go,” Damion says. “You guys have that dance thing.”
He drives us to Groovzies, the tiny dance school Anne’s kid goes to.
Damion holds open the double glass door for us and I walk down the passage toward the dance floor where the kids and mothers are waiting.
“Hey boy, get your eyes off her butt!” Anne shouts and I turn around, my eyes throwing daggers at him.
“Seriously!”
“You just look so perky in those tiny little shorts.” He lifts his shoulders and scowls, and I’m not sure exactly how I should feel or react to that. Anne just laughs and shakes her head mumbling something about young love.
“Don’t you make a lovely couple, but if you wouldn’t mind Mr. Perfect, she needs to get to work.” Damion gives Anne one of his famous knee-melting smirks and I watch her go soft.
Gmf, Mr. Perfect, fuck me!
“That can be arranged!” Damion says softly. I jolt … did I say it out loud? Oh, boy. I should seriously stop saying stupid things around him.
“Cocky bastard!” I snort, trying to sound convincing enough while I walk away, putting some extra swing in my steps.
“Are you going to be a distraction?”
“Distraction?” His face looks confused, almost worried, and I can’t help but smile.
“Yes, are you going to distract my girls?” Anne is still measuring him, for what I don’t know.
“Nope,” he accentuates and pulls out the p. She frowns a bit but then shoves him in the direction where the moms are sitting, waiting for the class to start. The flickering of admiration in their eyes doesn’t go unnoticed and he blushes while running a hand through his hair. Who knew the cocky Damion Grimm can be shy?
The two boys in the group suddenly turn into silent statues of admiration. They relax, then Chris, the cocky one, asks quietly but with a little awe in his tone – as if he is anxious and excited – but trying his best not to show it.
“You’re Damion Grimm? The Reaper champion.”
Damion gets an expression – a little-boy look. One that managed to convey both utter interest and buckets of true bravado, all in one, as he bends down and shakes Chris’ hand. And right then and there, I lose another piece of my heart to him.
“Yes. What’s your name?”
“Chris and this is Evan.” Damion shakes the other boy’s hand too.
“Damn, that’s so cool, wait till I tell my friends at school.” Evan’s face looks like he just picked up a million bucks.
“You guys like bikes?” The boys beam and they shake their heads. Damion smiles and messes up Evan’s wheat-colored hair.
“Well, next time I’ll bring you some Reaper souvenirs. How does that sound?” The boys well up in sheer joy and awe, and I’m rather concerned that they’re going to shake their heads right from their necks.
“Can we get soupwerneers too?” Ellie, the youngest in the group asks, not quite getting the big word right.
“Sure.” And just like that he has the kids wrapped around his pinkie.
Anne turns to walk away, but then she turns back and points her finger at Damion as if she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she bumps me against the shoulder and whispers, hard enough for Damion to hear.
“This one’s a keeper girl. H. O. T.” She spells the last word, fanning herself with her hand.
“And those eyes -” She finally walks away laughing.
“You need to leave. Logan is picking us up and I don’t want to explain why you’re here.” I shove him on his chest and he pulls me in with a slow smile that has all sorts of wicked, naughty trouble in it.