VEGAS follows you home (54 page)

"Damon, you paid—"

"The money doesn't matter to me," he says, his voice serious and definite. "What matters is when I enter that house, I want it to be with you. Without you, it won't be a home."

I open my mouth, but close it. Agreeing to move into the house is so much more than just living together. For Damon, this is my acceptance of our marriage, our family, of a life together.

"You don't have to answer tonight." His smile is obviously forced.

I know his hope was for me to agree immediately, but I don't. I need to think.

Dinner remains quiet with simple conversation over amazing meals. In the middle of our main courses, we switch plates. I honestly couldn't pick a favorite, they were that good. By the end of the meal, I feel uncomfortable. It's suddenly hard for us to find the easy rhythm we've recently shared. Even the car ride is quiet, making me feel the pressure of his question.

Swallowing my discomfort, I decide another topic may move us on from the silence.

"Anything new with the fertility clinic?"

"Actually, yes. The private investigator found some information I've been meaning to share with you and get your input."

"My input?"

He nods, going into the details of both his mother and Rebecca's involvement, and the fact that there are other couples who may have been involved.

"I'd like to make sure the other couples affected by the situation are aware. It's not fair for them to be kept in the dark or to find out some other way. I feel like it's my responsibility. But, I want your opinion, because taking this public will be a field day for the media. It could get crazy."

The feel of his eyes forces me to meet his gaze.

"Maybe being in the dark is better for some of those people," I offer.

"I thought about that, but my thoughts are to inform them. Perhaps it's selfish of me on some sort of level, but I feel like I need to do this."

Nodding, I look away.

"You don't agree."

Twisting my head back to him, I shake my head.

"No, it's not that. I'm just trying to think it through. You know, all the angles."

"I understand."

"Is there any way we could possibly tell these couples privately? Or at least try to keep it private?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose I could talk with my lawyers about a way to keep the information confidential."

"There are medical records and this does involve minors. I'd think there would be some law to protect them," I add to his thoughts.

"It's not a guarantee." His eyes bore into mine.

"I know, but we can try, right?"

"We?" His hand takes mine.

There it is. The ease and comfort settles between us.

"Yes, we."

He tugs, bringing me close to his side and wrapping an arm around me.

Stepping into his apartment, I kick off the heels I thought were a good idea when I picked out this dress for our date. One shoe smacks into a large item wrapped in brown paper. I turn to Damon with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. They are facing away."

"Facing away?" My brow furrows in confusion.

I look back to where my shoe hit and realize it's a stack of wrapped artwork.

"You bought paintings?" I ask, stepping forward and placing my fingers on the edge of one.

"No," he answers, removing my coat from my shoulders.

"Are they from New York?"

My curiosity grows as my fingers dance along the brown-papered edge.

"No."

Looking over my shoulder, I give him an incredulous look.

"Why are you being evasive?"

"Because you're cute when you’re curious."

Closing the gap between us, he places his hands on my hips.

"Jerk," I tease.

"See, I was going to let you look at them, but now…"

"Damon," I laugh.

His head dips close to my ear.

"You can look, but don't be angry."

Twisting my neck, I look at him.

He kisses my nose and steps away.

Turning my attention back to the secret art, I turn the first one around and tear the paper down.

My breath leaves me as tears well in my eyes. I swallow at the emotion trying to rip from my throat. Grabbing the next in the stack of three, I flip and rip the paper. The tears release, streaking my cheeks and dripping from my chin. Still with purpose, but slower, I grab the third and repeat. Covering my mouth, I stare at the portrait of me reading a cooking book.

On wobbling legs, I turn my body.

Damon leans against the wall behind me — tie gone, first three buttons of his shirt undone, hands in his pockets, and eyes riveted on my every movement.

I stride forward. His mouth is set in a grim line and his jaw muscle ticks.

Bringing my hands up, I grab his shirt.

"Why?" I croak on a whisper.

"For you, I welcome Isaac into our life and our new home."

"They're for the house?" I whisper.

He nods.

"I didn't mean to upset you. If you don't want them, I will—"

"You framed them? For me?"

He nods again.

Fisting the material until my knuckles ache, I yank him down so our faces are a breath apart. Damon's eyes search mine.

His lips part to speak again and I crash my mouth onto his with such force, it knocks us off balance. His hands come to my hips and firmly grip.

Sucking his bottom lip between mine, I lightly nip. He moans, sliding his hands up my back. Plundering my mouth, he forces his tongue against mine.

His fingers reach the back of my neck. They bury into my hair, fisting almost painfully. Pushing off the wall, he spins us until my back thuds against the barrier. Tightening his grip, he coaxes my head back. With my neck exposed, his mouth moves over my chin, stopping to lightly bite.

Damon sucks the sensitive skin of my neck. The anticipation of being skin to skin spirals out of control. Yanking in opposite directions, his shirt buttons pop open. I claw at the t-shirt he wears, hating the obstacle.

"I need to feel you," I moan.

I feel him hesitate for a split second before stepping away and pulling both shirts from his body.

Gripping his belt, I work the buckle and then the button of his pants. His hands rest on my hips, his fingers drawing the skirt of my dress higher and higher, until he can pull the jersey material over my head. Annoyed by the loss of contact, I growl.

The dress and his shirts gone, I shove at his pants and they fall to the floor. His mouth conquers mine and his hands return to my hips. I grip at his shoulders, pulling him close enough for my hard nipples to rub against him.

Squatting down, just a bit, he grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me against the wall. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I drink greedily from his mouth. I stretch my other arm down his back, digging my fingers into his flesh.

"Hold on," he growls against my lips.

"Always," I pant.

Pulling back his head, his eyes bore into mine. Something intense flares between us and whatever he sees makes his lip twitch.

Lifting me away from the wall, he carries me down the hall. Our eyes stay locked until he sits me onto the bed.

Kneeling on the floor between my legs, he grabs the straps of my bra and pulls them down roughly.

Leaning forward, I try to kiss him. He licks my lips, but won't give me his mouth. Narrowing my eyes, I pull my arms from the bra straps. I grab his head, pull him to me, and claim his lips. I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling his body press into me. His hard cock almost where I need it, I tilt my hips and rock. Our bodies meet and my head drops back.

Damon's mouth moves over my neck and collarbone. His tongue flicks over my nipple, eliciting his name from my mouth. His hands move over my thighs until they grip onto my cotton panties. Twisting and pulling, he tries to get them down my thighs, but I won't release him. Giving up, he grips one side with both hands and rips the fabric. The bite of the fabric into my skin intensifies my anticipation. His mouth moves to lick and suck at my other nipple, but he doesn't try to enter me.

"Damon, please," I cry out in frustration. "I need you."

"Patience, baby," he rasps against my breast.

Sliding my fingers into his hair, I grip and pull his head back.

"I need you, Damon. I want you to fuck me."

Heat lights his eyes and his nostrils flare.

Imitating him, I lick his mouth once and pull away when he tries to capture my tongue.

"Liv," he growls.

Bringing one thigh up onto the bed under my leg and then the other, he crawls us both further up the bed. With my toes, I grab the band of his underwear and push them down. His cock springs back, hard and ready against my thigh.

Resting his weight on his left forearm, he reaches between us, rubbing the tip of him over me. Rocking and angling my hips, I work to get him inside. The light hair on his legs rubs against the inside of my thighs, intensifying the throbbing in my clit. When he rubs the tip of his erection over it, I throw back my head and my arms fall to the bed.

"Oh my God, Damon!"

Bringing my right hand back to his head, I grab his hair and pull his face to mine. Our kiss is like drinking lava. The fire that lights between our lips spreads in a slow, deliberate heat across my skin until it collects between my legs.

"Are you ready, baby?" Damon pants against my mouth, his hand still taunting me with the evidence of his desire.

"You know I am," I snap, sexually frustrated.

"Like Vegas, so demanding."

I feel the smile against my mouth.

"What do you want, Olivia?" he asks, a teasing grin on his face.

Leveling my eyes on his, I put both hands on the side of his head. Lifting slightly, I stick my tongue between his lips and drop back to the bed.

"I want you inside me."

The teasing gone, he positions and slams inside.

"Oh yes, yes, God yes!"

Relief washes over me.

The musky scent of him, the way his hips piston between my legs, and how he hits the spot deep inside, build an erotic need within me.

His right hand moves across my skin, stopping to cup and squeeze my breast. My nipple between his lips, he sucks hard. Releasing the nipple, he rubs his thumb over the wetness left behind.

"You're gorgeous, Olivia," he rasps.

I’m unable to speak, my words drowned out by panting and moaning. My body coils tight, a hot ache grows at the core of me, and Damon thrusts harder, faster, as if he knows just what I need, what I want.

"Please," I beg on a gargled cry.

His hand slides down my body, over my belly, and between my legs. His finger joins where we are connected, gathering the wetness and rubbing it over my sensitive clit. One, two, three circular rotations and I explode beneath his body.

"Fuck, Olivia," he cries.

His hand moves from between us to beside my head on the bed. His hips thrust hard in an erratic rhythm that rides me through my erotic bliss.

Panting, Damon drops his head to my chest. Then he rolls, so that we are both lying on our sides, facing each other. I moan at the loss of him inside me, but I’m glad to straighten out my legs.

His left hand comes up, moving stray hairs from my face. I wrap my leg over his. He moves his left hand to my lower back and pulls me closer.

"I can't ever let you go," he whispers.

Placing my hand on his chest, I feel the rapid beat of his heart.

"Don't ask me to give you up."

He pulls me closer, trapping my hand between us. I can now feel that our heartbeats match and in that moment, I make a decision. It's time to be a little more like Mercedes.

Swallowing my nerves, I open my mouth.

"I won't."

Bringing his hand back to my face, he cups my chin so his fingers press behind my ear and his thumb on my cheek. Tilting my head, he looks down at me.

"What are you saying, Olivia?" he asks, his voice low and careful.

"I won't ask you to give me up."

"Olivia?" His tone becomes warning. "Don't play with me."

Working my hand out from between our bodies, I place my palm to his cheek.

"I love you, Damon."

His breath catches.

"I don't know how or why, but I do. I love you."

"Fuck, Olivia," he whispers before dipping down and kissing me.

This kiss isn't the lustful erotic type from earlier. This is gentle, loving, and caring. I close my eyes and bask in the emotions.

Pulling away, he rubs his thumb over my cheek.

"I love you, Olivia. I have loved you since I met you and I will love you always."