Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 7

I’m no longer in Damon’s arms when I wake up. I’m on the plush hotel bed, and the only thing that’s keeping me company is a headache.

I grab a pillow, holding on tightly, knowing today will be completely different from last night with him. Memories of me basically telling him I fell for him should make me cringe, but I’m kind of relieved.

And wishing it won’t make him run away.

I curse when I see the time on my phone. I have to hurry—we have a morning meeting before attending the second day of the conference.

Damon left me two aspirins next to a water bottle, so I take them both, touched by his silent gesture.

I’m out of the shower by the time I hear a knock on the door. Damon’s handsome, freshly showered self appears in my doorway.

“Ready? We need to leave.” He checks his watch as he steps inside my room. “In two minutes.”

I had the chance to fix my hair and put on some makeup, but I still need to dress. I hear the door close as I walk to the bed, eyeing the off-white lacy blouse with the matching tank top and a fitted black skirt.

“Two minutes?” I ask him, dropping the towel.

There’s an edge to his stare when his gaze roams over my body, the tightness of his sculpted jaw visible from a yard away. If I’m not mistaken, I see the tiniest curve in the corner of his lips, as if he’s fighting hard to contain a smirk, like he admires my tenacity.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I haven’t known what I was doing with my life since before the accident, nor have I known where I was heading after it. But I especially don’t know what I’m doing—at all—around Damon.

I should be figuring things out with Harvey. That’s what loyal people do. They work for their relationships even if it’s the one thing drowning them.

Instead, I’m here, naked and eager for Damon.

I feel less guilt about it than I used to. Perhaps we really can adapt to anything life throws at us. Or maybe the guilt is easier to bury when I’m so far away from Harv.

I grab my dark-green thong, pulling it up my lotion-soft legs. My body feels like it’s trembling when he takes slow, leisurely steps toward me.

The suit, his walk, his gorgeous face. Everything from his watch to the carved frown of his eyebrows contributes to his powerful allure.

His body leans against mine from behind. He directs my hands on the bed, leaning me forward. Then he hunches down to reach for my thong around my knees, bringing it up to my inner thighs.

I suck in a breath, my nipples perky and cold when his hand caresses my ass before he palms my pussy from behind. I whimper in painful agony, wishing he could slip inside me and rid me of this pleasurable misery.

“You know what I want to know?” he asks, his voice thick and hoarse.

I release a loud exhale, waiting for his hand cupping me down there to do something—anything.

“How far would you be willing to go to feel a high, Gemma?”

I ponder his question for what feels like minutes. The silence roams around us. His hand leaves my sex, grabbing my ass instead, then he smacks it, hard, before he fingers the curve of my spine.

“Far,” my voice comes out, reeking of desperation.

“Far?”

I nod. “I don’t have limits.”

“Oh, baby, everybody has limits.”

I turn my head. “I’d go far with you, Damon.”

My answer seems to appease something in him. I see it in the way his face relaxes. He seems less tense, content, as if he admires me.

Then he pulls my thong all the way up and twirls me around to face him.

“Hurry. Julia will be waiting downstairs soon.” He grabs my nipple ring, earning a head tilt and several swallows, because I really want him. “Will you be soaked for me all day?” He traces a finger over my thong.

Even through the fabric, I’m ready to combust, to lose my mind, my sanity, to end up secluded between four white walls for the sake of his touch.

I nod.

“Good.” He leans in, crashing his lips against mine.

Damon kisses me like he’s afraid to lose me, like I’m this delicate thing he wants to push limits with. He kisses me like he’s telling me goodbye, like he cares, like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Like he can’t fucking help himself, and it takes every ounce of his self-control to not have his lips on me at all times.

I feel it in my soul, in the deepest part of me. I feel the possessiveness with the way his hands grab my face, as if he wants to declare that I’m his and threaten away any competition.

“I’ll be outside.” He releases me and walks out.

He’s right. I’m soaked.

I debate cleaning up, but instead I put on my bra and my outfit, followed by the same coat I had on yesterday and black heels. My feet will hate me by the end of this trip.

When I step outside my hotel room, Damon’s on the phone, responding abruptly to whomever is on the other end. It’s not that he degrades people, nor does he portray entitlement. Mostly, he has zero patience and doesn’t fare well with incompetence.

But everybody makes mistakes.

He puts his arm out, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him while he figuratively bites the head off the caller.

As predicted, he keeps his distance from me all day long. He’s sharp and contained around Julia, and my brain can’t even comprehend how someone could be that good of an actor.

I try my best not to stare at him for too long when he talks. I try to keep my admiration for the man I’ve fallen for to a minimum. Because I know my eyes must be glowing with something more than lust and infatuation, and I don’t want to risk Julia seeing.

We head to our meeting downtown before attending the conference. There’s a massive fair with hundreds of kiosks all around, bringing forth ideas, projects, and inventions related to climate change.

I’m standing in front of a world map when a young guy approaches me and stands beside me. “Scary, isn’t it? Imagine what our world will be like one hundred years from now.”

This is what I love about science and our universe.

It makes every little problem in my life seem so bland in comparison.

“Yeah, sure. It is.”

He gives me a small smile. “Did you know ...”

I tune him out as the guy continues giving alarming facts that I’ve heard before. The initial shock factor has worn off. He might have more luck impressing someone who hasn’t studied environmental sciences.

“There you are.” Damon places his hand on my back, focusing on the guy next to me. “We’re heading out to dinner with clients before the speaker portion of the conference.”

I thank the guy for his interesting facts.

“Interesting facts?” Damon rolls his eyes as we walk toward a lesser crowd. “The idiot probably told you what you already know.”

I shrug and face him. “So. He doesn’t need to know that. I don’t—”

He takes another step, closing the gap between our bodies. If Julia’s eyes would land on us now, there’d be no stopping her assumptions.

“You shouldn’t have to dumb yourself down to appease a man’s ego, Red. You’re intelligent and educated. Own it.”

His comment heals my battered heart but also sparks the smallest light of fire.

“I don’t dumb myself down. It’s called not being an asshole—something you should try once in a while.”

We end up walking near the restroom area in a secluded corner.

“You ask for less than what you deserve.”

He has some nerve.

How did this happen? How did I go from willing to do anything to be pleasured by him to wanting to hurt him the same way his words wound me?

“I do ask for more—with you . And yet you push me away all the time! So, by your standards, I should completely push you away, right? Never speak to you again?”

“Gemma.” He shakes his head, concern overtaking his pupils.

“No, stop, Damon! You keep contradicting yourself. I have no clue how you feel about me. If I’m just a fuck toy you’ll get sick of in a couple months ...”

An elderly lady leaves the restroom, her eyes bulging out at my words.

Damon arches his brow, his physical stance begging her to say something to me, eager for an opportunity to snap at someone else.

When she’s gone, he looks around us before placing his arm over my head, his body shielding us from the public eye. An expression I can’t gauge crosses his eyes, but it’s gone before I can blink.

“You’re more than that. You know it.” He ensures we’re alone again, then he gives me a peck on the lips, the cheek. “Do you think I want this?” His finger skirts the edges of my jaw. “Don’t you think it would be so much easier to go out and fuck someone else?” I cringe at his visual, but that doesn’t deter him. “I fucking wish it were that easy, but it’s not. It wouldn’t change a thing.”

My throat is clogged with bile and emotions. I try to clear it so I can speak. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“Ball’s in your court, Gemma. I won’t drown myself if I think even for a second that you still belong to him.”

“How could you think that? I’m here chasing you, thinking of you, throwing myself at you . I basically bared it all for you yesterday, and you just—”

“You were drunk and horny. Doesn’t count, and it doesn’t mean anything unless you can let him go first.”

I grab his face with my hands, removing my back from the wall. “I’ve already let him go. I’m ready to move on. For myself, for us . I’m moving back home while my dad’s in Seattle.”

He freezes, shocked, and I take this opportunity to weave my fingers through his hair.

“Seriously?”

I nod, massaging the nape of his neck.

“So you’re done with him?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

He says nothing. Instead, he takes out his cell from the back pocket of his suit.

“Julia’s waiting at the entrance outside.”

I don’t know how to handle a man like Damon.

He’s hot and cold, nice and mean, vulnerable and stoic. I can never predict which version of the man will greet me.

After a long day, I take a relaxing bath before lying on the bed, tucking myself underneath the white covers.

Harv and I haven’t spoken since I left. While I wonder if he’s with her, a part of me doesn’t seem to care.

I know how much harder it’s all going to be when I tell him we must move on. I can’t shake off the puppy look he might give me or the desperate pleas he might send my way when I tell him I’m moving out.

Or who knows? Maybe he’ll be so mad at me it’ll make it easier for him to let me go.

I grab my phone and dial Henrik’s number.

“What’s up, pretty lady?”

I smile. “I’m in New York for work. How are you?”

“Oh, you know?” He chuckles. “I’m high.”

“Did you speak to him today?”

“During lunch, yeah, and he was moody, so I decided to hang out with Jeanine tonight instead.”

“Jeanine.”

“Yes, Jeanine . Don’t hate on ho names, Gemma. Yours sounds pret-ty similar if you ask me.”

I clear my throat, knowing what I’m about to unleash on him, knowing he had told me not to.

“Henrik?”

“Yeah?”

“He knows I ... slept with my boss,” I say, hoping not to be eternally judged for it.

“Fuck.” He doesn’t comment on the fact that the guy I cheated on Harvey with is my boss—a detail I left out the night I told him about my affair.

“I’m leaving him, Hen. My dad’s going to Seattle for a few weeks, so I’ll be settling there.”

“You’re moving out.” He mutters his speech like he’s repeating the words to let them sink in.

I answer, “Yeah. I haven’t told him yet. I left in a hurry. I’ll tell him myself. I just know this will affect you too.”

“Stop worrying about it. I’ll move in with him for now and be there for him. But you know what? It’s time he takes care of himself.”

I exhale loudly. Henrik doesn’t have to do that—he has a place of his own.

“I’m scared. I’m scared to leave him.” I’m scared of being alone, of being unhappy, of regretting it. I want us to be happy, even if we can’t do so while we’re together. I also dread becoming strangers with the boy who used to make me smile.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gem Gem.”

I nod to myself, needing the reassurance. We say goodbye, and I end the call as Damon’s name pops up on my screen.

“Still hungry?” he asks, his voice low.

“Yeah.” The restaurant we went to with our clients was the type to leave your stomach and your wallet empty by the time you left.

“Meet me in the lobby in ten.” He hangs up.

I put my hair in a bun and dress in a tee and jeans. I brought ankle boots with me, so I wear those with my black puffer jacket.

I smile when I meet Damon wearing a black hat on his head, barely fully on. I love how he’s both the handsome CEO in suits and the striking man in ripped jeans.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I love everything about him.

Oh, God.

“Pizza?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Pizza sounds great.” We walk silently hand in hand, following the crowded streets, the weekend vibe buzzing around us.

After grabbing our box of pizza, we walk to Central Park.

I love how comfortable the silence is between us.

I love when he grabs my hand as if he intends to never let it go.

We settle on a bench, and he feeds me a slice. The wind is just as harsh as it’d be back home, but less snow covers the ground.

I stare at the man next to me, and I finally ask him something I’ve been dying to know. “Did you ever picture yourself getting married?”

He sighs, taking a bite of his pizza. “Can’t we eat in peace?”

I hate that I can’t see his eyes, so I grab his hat and place it over my head before I run my hand through his thick, unruly hair.

“I just want to know more about you,” I mutter. “I know you lost your dad young, your mom’s family has money, and you love science. That’s it.”

He says nothing, so I keep it light. “First time having sex?” I grin.

His eyes sparkle with a mischievous air. “Sixteen.”

“Tattoo or piercing?”

My breath catches in my throat when he leans forward, tipping his cap closer to my hairline, as he whispers over my cheekbone. “Nipple piercing.”

Then he kisses my cheek and I blush.

“Beer or wine?”

“Wine.” I make a face at his answer, to which he shrugs. “My mom’s a wine lover. It grew on me eventually.”

“Are you close with her?”

“I am.”

We finish our food in silence, the breeze brushing against my face.

“I miss her,” I say, referring to my mom. I’m hoping that by opening up he’ll do the same.

“What do you think she would’ve thought of me?” he asks, massaging my neck. The stress I’ve been putting on my mind lately, on my body, dissipates with every stroke. It could be his presence, the massage, or being near snow-covered trees, but I feel more at peace tonight.

“She would’ve loved you.”

He snickers.

“I’m serious.” I grab his other hand. My heart pumps blood at a rapid pace after he weaves his fingers through mine.

It’s the littlest thing.

The smallest things mean the most to us in the end, don’t they?

“She would’ve warned me about Harv, based off his looks. The whole bad-boy vibe with his obvious tat ... she might not have liked that.”

The emotion crossing his eyes is deep and so mesmerizing that I wish I could spend the rest of my life staring into them.

“And your dad?” he asks.

“He loves everyone. Doesn’t judge.”

“Even so, I’m hard to love, Gemma.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong, tell him he has no clue, absolutely no clue, how easy he is to love. Instead, I scoot closer to him, seeking body heat, wishing to heal whatever demons plague him.

I know he doesn’t keep much company, but I want to be one of those people he cherishes in life.

“Yesterday, you said you only want to fuck me. Does that mean you’re not fucking other women?”

The tiniest smirk appears, making me swoon over him even more. Like he’s channeling every aspect of my heart, trying to possess it, earn it, and declare it his.

“I already told you I wouldn’t. But why must you need the writing on the wall?” He places his hand on the side of my neck, the gesture coaxing me to look up. You’d think his dark eyes would mirror his soul, but they don’t.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe I need some stability in my life.”

He tips his cap sideways and brings his forehead to mine as his thumb brushes against my lower lip. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not fucking anyone else.”

“Okay,” I mutter. “Okay.”

Goose bumps rise over my arms like a chorus, his words searing through my veins. I try to shove away the memories of him pushing me away after I broke up with Harvey.

“Did you ever sleep with people from work?”

His face is passively hostile when he tells me he never has. Pride swells in my chest, which is stupid, knowing I’ll hurt many people in the process of leaving Harvey.

“So where did you meet girls? Bars?”

He shrugs, and I’m too curious to break the silence, waiting for his elaboration. “Bars, clubs, fundraisers—you name it.”

“So you dated many girls?”

There’s an edge to his voice. “No. After ...” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t into courting women, really.”

“Because dinner takes such effort.” I put some distance between us, but he grabs my hand.

“People annoy me.” While his statement rubs me the wrong way, I can’t help knowing that women at work throw themselves at him because he’s hot, young, and wealthy. “I wanted to fuck without having a relationship. Made things easier.”

“So what do you want with me ... sexually,” I whisper.

“I want to please you.” He grabs my throat from the front, earning a swallow out of me. His eyes narrow into slits, like he’s getting high and hard off something. Then he squeezes my throat before releasing it.

It’s cold outside, but warmth and fire consume my inner body. “I wouldn’t mind spanking your ass ... and your pussy.”

“God, Damon.”

“Would you like that, Red?”

I nod, gulping. “Yeah.”

Uncertainty swims through his eyes as they lock in with mine. A strong emotion crosses his features before it wanes.

“Good. Call me when you’re single.”

His sharp words fuel the cold air whisking around us. He gets up, checking his phone, and just like that I know our evening is done. Damon always decides when time is up, and I’m sick of it.

I don’t push him, don’t say anything as we walk back to the hotel.

Outside our rooms, he simply tells me good night, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

Nothing else. No other words.

Just this distance that I’ve become familiar with—the same with Harv. The distance that I’ve come to hate . I know he has no reason to show me his cards when I’m still with another man.

It’s doing it that will be hard.

Facing Harvey.

Telling him I no longer want to be with him.

That I’m moving out.

A rush of anxiety cripples me as I think about leaving him behind. I know he has people he loves and people who love him. He’ll be fine. In fact, with Claire, I can only assume he’ll be more than fine. He’ll get to be with her, which is what he wants. I know it.

Like me, he simply refuses to stare reality in the face.

But the truth straightens you out eventually. It always does.