Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1) Page 9

  I chewed my lip. “So, naan bread?”

  “It would be a crime to eat Indian food without naan bread,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “Oh, I agree.” We paused in the conversation for the space of a few breaths. “Fetch the food, Stone.”

  He smirked, turned on his heel and retrieved a large brown bag from the SUV. I stood in the doorway, heart in my mouth hoping I hadn’t made the biggest mistake of my life.

  As he crossed the threshold I stepped aside. He strode straight to the kitchen as if he knew the floor plan. I closed the door and turned the locks before following the scent of spicy Indian curry, trying and failing to avert my eyes from the flex of his butt as he walked.

  Damien placed the bag on the counter while I grabbed plates and utensils. The movie, Under the Tuscan Sun, sat on the counter next to the Thai Kaffir menu. I took a deep breath.

  “I was going to order takeout and eat in front of the TV. Would you want to watch this movie while we eat?”

  “I’d love to, Olivia.” His voice was deep and masculine and reverberated through the kitchen. Warmth washed through me.

  I smiled, feeling shy and completely aware that it was just the two of us alone in my house that didn’t seem large enough for Damien.

  I scanned the interior of the fridge. “I’d offer you a drink, but all we have is pomegranate juice and milk. Oh, there’s vodka?”

  “Water is fine.”

  “Okay.” I retrieved two water bottles from the fridge, my mind racing, trying to picture the two of us eating a meal and watching a girly movie on my couch. What have I gotten myself into?

  We grabbed everything and he followed me. I sensed eyes on me and couldn’t get to the living room fast enough. I let him arrange everything on the rectangular coffee table while I loaded up the movie. He fixed a plate for me heaped with aromatic chicken curry on fragrant, yellow rice and two naan breads.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing me the plate full of goodness. I almost groaned when I smelled it, but at least my stomach stayed silent.

  “Thank you.” I sat down, angling myself in one corner of the couch, and tucked my feet up under me. The movie was on the opening menu, and I decided to leave it there to show due respect for the food.

  “Oh my God.” The words just came out at my first bite, but I was quickly learning not to stand on ceremony with Damien. “It’s like I’ve never eaten before, it’s that good.”

  Damien was leaning back and getting comfortable. He was a lot closer to the center of the couch, but I rejected the sudden idea of putting a pillow between us, counting on his gentlemanly honor to maintain a safe and reasonable distance.

  “I can even taste the yellow,” he said, spearing up a large chunk of chicken.

  “You’ve seen the movie!” I said between mouthfuls.

  He nodded, wiping his mouth with a paper towel that was subbing for a napkin. “Read the book, too.”

  “Really?” I asked. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? First, showing up unannounced with food, and now admitting to being an unabashed chick flick watcher. Next you’ll tell me you like puppies and midnight strolls on the beach.”

  He shrugged and shot me a mischievous look. “If I’d known all it took was takeout and a well-placed movie quote, I’d have tried this approach to begin.”

  My lips twitched, though I looked at him sternly over my plate. “Friends sharing a meal, remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  I glanced away, letting the rapid tension dissipate to manageable levels. The opening menu droned on and on, and I told myself I should probably start the movie.

  “We could watch something else?” I ended on a question.

  He shook his head. “I’m assuming it’s a favorite. And to let you in on a little secret, it’s one of my favorites, too.”

  We grinned stupidly at each other. I had about twelve things to say to him, but instead I grabbed the remote and pressed play.

  Normally, I was a movie Nazi. If anyone spoke, I shushed them and wasn’t nice about it either. If we were going to invest the next couple of hours in becoming immersed in the magic of cinematic storytelling, my fellow watchers should afford the courtesy of remaining silent so as not to destroy the illusion.

  But Damien liked to comment. At first, I thought I would have to shush him, but then I found his comments insightful and timed just right so that I missed nothing.

  “Have you been?” he asked softly during the scene when the tour bus wound gracefully through waving fields of gold. No matter how many times I had watched, that scene in particular always left me transfixed in the way it was as evocative as a distant dream, a route yet to be travelled.

  “No,” I whispered back. “Like Frances, if I go, I may decide to stay. Have you?”

  “Si. Many times.” He paused for a few moments to allow the dialogue in the movie to continue. “Italy was the first destination I explored when I was finally able to afford a vacation.”

  Throughout the movie, Damien continued to make perfectly timed comments. Not that I needed any reminders of his presence. I was constantly aware of every little thing like the space he occupied approximately thirty inches away on the couch, the way his chest moved evenly with each breath, the way my breathing seemed elevated compared to his, the little movements he made. I couldn’t help but shift my eyes to take him in every so often. He sat with his ankle resting on his knee, his hands loosely folded in his lap. I chanced another look his way…‌and this time he caught me.

  Blood rushed to my cheeks. He smiled and it was all crazy sexy Damien. The air in the room thickened, and I turned back to the movie. I knew he was still looking at me‌—‌I could feel his gaze‌—‌but I kept my own eyes forward, not risking another look until the credits rolled.

  Damien got up first, gathering up the remains of dinner.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  “No. I’ve got it,” he said, and moved off toward the kitchen, leaving me alone. I attended to the DVD and then followed him, hearing the sounds of the dishwasher being loaded.

  I entered the kitchen and watched him cleaning up, not knowing what to do. He had a precise way of doing things, rinsing off the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher in an orderly fashion. His actions were unrushed, methodical. His pants draped across his hips, making me want to run my fingers along the waistband. I knew I should find some menial task to occupy myself with, but I couldn’t to tear my eyes away.

  He closed the dishwasher and turned, his smoldering gaze raking over me, finally settling on my lips. My stomach turned molten and my skin tightened deliciously.

  He exhaled harshly. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

  He was on me in an instant, one hand in my hair, cupping the back of my head, the other hand holding my hip relentlessly. His lips crushed against mine, sending a jolt of burning need radiating from my core to my fingertips. Time and space were nonexistent. The only things important were the feel of his heated skin against mine, the musky, male smell of him, and the unmistakable snap of the tangible bands that had held me away. I knew for certain what I wanted now.

  I wanted him. Like nothing I had ever wanted before.

  I parted my lips and took him inside, his tongue lapping at mine. Our teeth clashed but it was of little consequence. I needed him deeper. My hands clutched at his shirt, alternating between yanking him closer and caressing him frantically.

  His hand at my head relaxed its punishing grip and slowly slid down, his fingertips grazing the tender skin of my throat and collarbone, then farther down to trace across my nipple. I whimpered at the contact, feeling my breast swell against his hand.

  His mouth became greedier, his kiss punishing in its intensity. I took everything he gave and demanded more, sucking his lips and tongue into my mouth and letting the feeling of pure bliss wash over me. The muscles in my core clenched, erupting into fiery fingers of pleasure and need.
I strained, my hips pushing against his, feeling the unmistakable hardness of his erection.

  His hands were at my waist and before I knew what was happening, he’d lifted me onto the counter. My hands flew to his shoulders, feeling them bulge beneath my fingers. His hands grasped my hips and pulled me to the edge, and he deftly stepped between my legs, pressing his hard length against my tender, pulsing flesh.

  I gasped, my need escalating to unmanageable levels. His mouth continued to feast on mine, nibbling gently past my jawline to my throat before returning forcefully to my lips. My hands gripped his hair and pulled, angling his mouth even sharper against mine. And still I wanted more. I was desperate. I had to have all of him…‌now.

  On a strangled moan, he broke contact with my lips. The room was filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing. Damien’s face was flushed, his normally glittering eyes dark and single-minded. Goose bumps raced across my skin at the absence of his body heat.

  “You win,” he said, his voice soft and thick.

  My eyes tipped sharply to his, and I was unable to keep the confusion from my face.

  “Tell me what you want. Lay it all out on the table. We’re getting to the bottom of this impasse right now. Because Olivia, you can’t tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

  I sucked in a breath, reeling from his raw honesty. My shaking hands betrayed how far I’d let him get to me. Why did I deny myself? Why did I pretend I wasn’t attracted to him, when doing so solved nothing and made me look like a fool?

  “I’m afraid,” I whispered.

  “We’ll take it slow.”

  My chest heaved as we stared at one another.

  “Come to dinner with me tomorrow. I promise, you have nothing to be afraid of.” He searched my face, his thumbs moving delicately over my cheeks. I kept my eyes closed, willing back the darkness. I promise. I believed him. I believed he was a man of his word. I believed I could trust him. I believe he wouldn’t hurt me. I can trust him. A tremendous weight rolled from me, making me feel almost buoyant.

  I swallowed and opened my eyes. “Okay.” I gazed hesitatingly up at him. His expression shifted and his eyes widened bemusedly, a crease appearing between them. His thumbs had stopped their soft glides across my cheeks but still he cupped my face.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Yes, Damien. One date. With one stipulation.” My hands lifted to his chest and his muscles flexed again under my hands as my sex clenched in an answering flex of its own. He stood just inches away and like magnets my eyes were drawn to his sensuous lips, which parted as he looked down at me.

  “Name it,” he said. The scent and heat of his body were so close now.

  “If it doesn’t work out, you quit the gym.”

  He frowned. I took the opportunity to press against his chest, making him step back so that I could hop off the counter. I quickly stepped out of his range because I was going to need personal space to stand a chance of negotiating with this man.

  He smiled shrewdly. “Deal.”

  “Deal?” That was too easy.

  “You hold all the cards, Olivia.” He walked purposefully toward me, like an animal stalking its prey. I held the cards? Who did he think he was kidding?

  He paused directly in front of me. “I’m going to leave now.”

  Oh. “Okay,” I breathed. Tearing my gaze from his, I turned to escort him out. We walked through the house in silence, my heart tripping through my ribcage. As I turned the knob, his hand quickly engulfed mine.

  He moved in behind me, gently pushing until I was sandwiched between the door and his hard body. My head was turned to the side and his mouth mere inches from mine. His breath fanned across my lips, sweet and hot and oh-so-tantalizing. I leaned back against him to steady my shaking legs, and he moved his arms to support me. His lips grazed across my throat, sucking softly. “You’re driving me crazy.” He grinded against my butt, my hips flexing back in answer.

  I was flipped around, my back to the door. All the blood in my body rushed to my most sensitive spots. My eyes trained on his lips, which remained stubbornly out of reach. Kiss me, damn it! His hands moved to my head, holding me firmly against the door. He slowly closed in on my lips, deliberately taking his sweet time. The torture, the waiting, was exquisite. I longed to reach up on my tiptoes and make first contact, but his hands held my head firmly. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled, trying to draw him closer, but he didn’t budge a single inch. My eyes flew to his, but he just smiled his Mona Lisa smile.

  His scent enveloped me, the soap he used, the detergent from his clothes. Male, musky, clean. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and gently licked across my upper lip.

  “Ahh.” I closed my eyes and parted my lips wider.

  “You like that?” And as a reminder, he did it again, this time licking my parted and wanting bottom lip from corner to corner. If I could move my head, I would be able to capture those tantalizing lips but he held it completely immobile.

  He returned to my top lip, licking softly, slowly. It was agonizing. I wanted his lips, his tongue. Two could play at this game! Raising my hands, I grasped the back of his neck with my left hand and lifted my right hand to his teasing mouth. Extending my fingers, I stroked his open lips with the pads of my fingers, back and forth, around and around. His lips were so soft, and as I stroked them I could feel his hot breath against my fingers. He pushed back against my hand that held his neck, but he didn’t break my grip even though I knew it would be only too easy for him.

  He held my gaze as I explored his lips with my fingertips and then, with my index finger, I delved inside. He clamped his lips around my finger, biting gently and sucking hard, swirling his tongue around it, and I felt the motion in my throbbing clit. Breathlessly, I pulled my finger out of his mouth and spread the moisture across his lips, my eyes drinking it all in as I watched my fingers glide across his smooth, wet lips, letting my fingers feel what my lips could not.

  Taking whatever scraps I could get.

  Chuckling under his breath, he trapped my feet between his. Mimicking his slow torture of my lips, he brushed his hips against my belly, so I could feel the barest hint of his erection. A burning ache traveled from my belly to my core. I moved my hands into his silky soft hair, grabbing fistfuls and pulling hard. He made a low rumble in his throat and I was on fire.

  “You are so beautiful.” Adjusting his grip on my head, he angled his mouth until his teeth bit gently on my earlobe. His lips then closed and he sucked, employing the same swirling tongue motions as he did on my finger. Pulling away, he let my earlobe scrape against his teeth, biting hard as it neared the end.

  “Damien,” I whined. All reason and thought had left me, making me one quivering, pulsating mess.

  He returned to my lips and his slow licks. I extended my tongue, lapping at his as he swept across my lips, shameless as I desperately tried to get some contact.

  “You want me to kiss you, Olivia?”

  I could only whimper in agreement. I was painfully aroused. If I didn’t get some relief soon, I was going to combust on the spot.

  His hips grinded harder into my abdomen, and I could feel the full outline of his arousal.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered.

  “Since you asked nicely.” His lips went at my throat, sucking, licking. He made that low growl as he continued across my throat and along my jaw, his stubble branding a hot trail over my skin. It was sweet, sweet torture.

  “Damien, please,” I pleaded, panting.

  He stopped and pulled back, his penetrating eyes dark as he peered into my melted depths. His breathing was ragged, matching my own. “You are hard to figure out, Olivia St. Clair. But I am up to the challenge.” A slow grin spread across his gorgeous face, eclipsing all else. My breath hitched then stopped as I drank in this sexy, beautiful man. And then his lips were on mine and oh God, it was sublime. He released his grip on my head, and his arms moved to embrace me, holding
me so tightly my feet left the floor. My own arms wrapped around his neck as our mouths fed off one another, desperate and hungry.

  My entire life until this moment had been mere prologue, an appetizer in anticipation of this wondrous, pure existence with him. Our tongues danced, taking turns in the lead, twisting wildly. In a daze I felt my feet gently lowered back to the floor and then his hands were on my butt as he pulled me against his erection. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take before I simply lay right down on the carpeting and let him have his way with me.

  My hands tightly grasped his muscular shoulders. Leaving my backside, his hands traveled around to my hips before moving upwards over my sides until poised on the outside of my breasts. I arched my back, pushing them into his chest. Please, please touch me.

  His hands stilled, leaving my body and pressing against the door as if to support his weight. “Oh Olivia,” he breathed against my mouth. “I said we’d take this slow.”

  No. Not slow. Touch me.

  He kissed me chastely and leaned his forehead against mine. “I want to do this right.”

  I found myself nodding agreement while I struggled not to throw myself at him. He looked down at me in mock sympathy and slid his hands back down to my hips, giving me one last squeeze before releasing me completely. I was breathless and horribly aroused and could only imagine how I appeared. He, of course, looked like the sex god he was. Even after my hands’ rough treatment through his hair, he still looked like he just stepped off the pages of GQ.

  Smiling, he took a step away and studied what must have been a catastrophic failure of hair and makeup.

  “Besides the obvious discomfort,” he said, “how do you feel otherwise?”

  I squirmed uncomfortably but met his gaze head on. “Fine.” My voice came out husky and low, causing him to part his lips slightly and take a quick breath.

  “That doesn’t sound very convincing, but I will take you at your word.” He straightened up and held out his hand, which I reached to take automatically.

  I was in a daze as he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it, his eyes never leaving mine. His lips sent shooting sparks up my arm, which I attempted, not successfully, to resist. He opened the door and stepped out into the night. Not five minutes ago I had been ready to do anything he asked, and now he was leaving.