Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 19

The next morning is rough. I’m tired and, to make matters worse, I cross Claire making Harvey breakfast, which isn’t part of her job description.

She’s all bubbly and chirpy as we say good morning. Then I leave her to it and head to the bathroom to apply my makeup.

As soon as I’m finished, I knock on Harvey’s door. My heart hitches in my chest when I step in and see him, shirtless, slowly walking toward his closet.

“Harvey...” I clear my throat. “Look at you!”

He’s walking ... more than a few steps. My mind wants to freeze this memory in time, to revel in it later once I’m alone again. I’m so happy right now—my tiredness overshadowed by this blissful moment.

I can’t contain my excitement at seeing this improvement in person, at seeing him walk from one part of the room to the other, rather than from his chair to the furniture.

Then I see the tick of his jaw before he spills any words back at me.

When I reach him—in a standing position—I grab his hand and clutch it to my chest. “Harv.” I stare at his briny deep eyes.

The only thing to interrupt our silence is the swallowing of his throat.

“I’m so proud of you.” I grab his face with my hands. “I believe in you—you know that, right?” His eyes lock on my lips and he nods, slowly. Then he eyes my knee-length leather skirt, with a zipper on one side of it, featuring black lace.

In an attempt not to overcrowd him or ruin this bonding moment, I take a step back, my eyes scanning his bare torso. He’s in nothing but charcoal bottoms, his forearm phoenix tattoo on full display.

His muscles are more defined, his abs back in motion.

“Are you... are you also doing different exercises?” I ask, knowing he’s been practicing walking with Claire.

He shrugs. “McKleen gave me more upper body strength exercises.”

I take a page out of Claire’s book and try to keep the next ten questions I have in mind at bay. I don’t want to hover even though I’m dying to ask if he should be using his walker to abstain from injuring himself.

“That’s good, Harv ,” I’m whispering his name.

He’s looking at me with painful, angry eyes. Does he know all that I’m hiding? Does he wonder why I went back riding since our argument about my broken promise? Does he wonder if I went with my boss or alone?

“Keep going,” I say, pushing my thoughts away, wishing to see him walk again, even if it’s a few steps.

But he shakes his head. “Do you mind closing the door behind you?”

His gentle tone does nothing to stop more ruptures from tackling my heart. His gaze on me feels as if he’s sneaking a peek into my soul—and I can’t shake the feeling that he knows.

He knows my lies, my truths. He must know. He lives some of his own lies every day.

I nod at him and leave his room, heading to mine. I sit on my bed, needing a minute to process this morning. Soon, I check my phone and realize that if I don’t leave now, I might be late.

My stomach drops when I pass his bedroom and see through the door he left ajar. Claire’s standing by his closet as he takes more steps toward her.

The sight—it does something to me. It makes me feel sick. Hell, it just clicked that she probably touched him more often than I had in the last few years—all for the sake of therapy.

And I hate her for it.

I leave them alone. As I drive to work, I can’t stop mulling over Harvey’s progress and his stare. The man eyed my skirt like it was the culprit for his problems.

Is he realizing? That I’ve been wearing more skirts and dresses than ever before? I could chalk it up to now being a career woman, which is true—I wouldn’t be caught dead in this outfit on weekends—but I also appreciate Damon’s lingering eyes whenever I wear them.

Work is busy, as are most Fridays.

I barely have time to think about seeing Damon since sharing our first kisses because he’s in meetings all morning. I’m not sure if I’m grateful for the space to mentally absorb the last few days or if I wish to see if things changed between us.

In the afternoon, a beautiful middle-aged woman with brown eyes comes to my desk. I can tell by the clothes on her back that she’s wearing luxurious brands, yet it doesn’t mask the humbleness twinkling in her eyes.

“Is he busy?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I can find out,” I say, but as I’m about to ask her name, she interrupts me.

“I’m his mother.” It feels surreal to meet someone important to him. Someone who might have insight as to why he’s so closed off to people and relationships.

At the same time, Damon opens the door and the look he gives me is enough to dampen my thong. From his stare alone, I can tell we’re both reminiscing about our time alone at his place.

“We talked about this,” he tells his mom. His thumb slides down his jawline, but his serious tone doesn’t faze her.

She rolls her eyes. “I was in the area.” Then she turns to me. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“Not yet,” I say simply, avoiding the Dreygon stare. The one that amplifies my nerves, the butterflies in my stomach, and makes me easily forget everything I overcame with Harv.

“You should bring her out to lunch or order in.” She looks at her son. He doesn’t seem impressed with her antics and suggestions, not in the least. “You need to make sure she eats. The poor girl is dealing with your sassy attitude all day.”

“She’s my assistant, not my wife. My job isn’t to feed her.” And my heart explodes from the sultry lust dripping from his eyes alone. He shouldn’t be eye-fucking me with his mother around, yet he is.

He winks at me, then lets her inside his office. His comment was a jab—a perfectly timed one meant to send another warning: I’ll never be his wife.

And I can’t help but picture it. What it’d be like to marry Damon. Our mornings together... I stop myself short of my newfound fantasy. Just this morning, I couldn’t look away from Harvey’s chest, beaming with pride at seeing him walking a few steps without a walker.

What am I doing? Seriously, what am I doing?

I’m so lost, I don’t know who I want anymore. I want one. I want the other. I want both.

I don’t know who to turn to.

Gia’s my soul sister, my twin, my other half. I just don’t know that she’ll be able to hear the full story without judging me. She’s not one to hold her tongue, and I’m not ready for such truths yet.

I still can’t believe Damon winked at me. The man must be having a great day. And so do I. I spend the rest of the day in a good mood, and I leave at five o’clock exactly, knowing Damon’s in a meeting.

If I stay, I’m afraid of what will happen. The more Harvey gives me of himself, the easier it is to pull away from Damon. But it won’t last long; the walls around me are down, and it would be so easy for Damon to step in and make himself at home.

I call Gia on my way back home, apologizing for not getting back to her sooner.

The sun is in hiding by the time I get home, but I’m glad to see the ramp Harvey uses cleared of ice or snow. We hire a company during winter to take care of shoveling and putting salt on the driveway, the ramp, and a part of the backyard area.

I remove my coat and boots, eager to remove the tight skirt Damon kept staring at whenever he finished with a meeting today and stood outside his office.

The feels. The feels he gives me.

I’m in a long black T-shirt when I find Harvey in his chair in the kitchen. He’s placing a slice of pizza on a plate.

“Oh, you ordered pizza...” My voice falters when I realize there isn’t any more left. He ate it all himself?

“Claire left... I wasn’t sure if you were working late or not.” He doesn’t say it with anger or disdain. He pushes the plate closer to me on the kitchen island. “Take it.”

Because I’m starving and I didn’t have lunch, I don’t second-guess his offer. I sit on the counter and sip a can of Mountain Dew.

“How was your day?”

My eyes narrow at the question, thinking about his anger toward me this morning. Suddenly my defenses are up, my walls are up, and I’m pondering why he’s being nicer, why he’s still here.

Usually, he’d be gone to his room already.

“What’s wrong? ”

He looks away, and his Adam’s apple moves. I place the pop can next to me, and my feet touch the ground, making my way to him. I kneel in front of him, holding his hand. And I know something must be really, really wrong if he doesn’t push me away.

“What’s wrong, Harv?”

He refuses to look at me. “We kissed... Claire and I.”

My world stops. There’s no logical reasoning for this knowing what I’ve been doing with Damon.

Yet my world stops. Spinning. My mind. Is staggering.

Out. Of. Control.

No.

I release his hand and stand up like he burned me. I should tell him about Damon; now is a good time. I really should. We both cheated. ..

“Who kissed who first?”

He shakes his head, his thumb and forefinger playing with his eyebrows. “She did. I didn’t stop it.”

There’s venom. There’s venom deep in my throat and it’s burning. I feel as if I’m shaking except as I stare at my hands, I realize that they’re not.

Did she give him a simple peck? Or was it more passionate than that? Like what I did with Damon? Was there a lot of touching involved?

How did things get like this?

“She’s fired.” The words stumble out of me—without any sense of filtering beforehand—and I know how much of a hypocrite they make me.

“No. No, she’s not.” He shakes his head. “She’s not fired, she’s the best I ever had.”

I want to drop to my knees and rock back and forth like a stupid baby. Because I don’t know if he means the best nurse or the best, simply the best, as in girl, girlfriend, lover.

I walk to my room to run, run, run, from my problems. I’m so good at it, why stop now? Until a question burns at the tip of my tongue.

I whirl around. “What does she have that I don’t?” I whisper, my voice quivering with need .

I’m giving up on us. I feel it in the deepest part of my spirit.

“What?”

“Don’t play coy, Harvey. What is it about her that puts a smile on your face? Why can you let her touch you! Why can you let her see you walk! What have I ever done to you?” The tears are stinging my eyes, badly, now.

But I don’t dare let them fall.

Harvey looks hurt himself by my questions.

“I did everything, everything that I could to be there for you and put your needs first. EVERYTHING, HARVEY! ” My voice rises a few octaves, and we’re both stunned by my outburst. It’s different this time—I’m almost screaming as the words bleed out of me, one by one, as I struggle to share with this man how much he’s hurt me over the years.

I’m angry at him and myself. Angry at myself for not saying something earlier. One thing is for sure, working for Damon teaches you to tell it like it is.

I don’t let him answer. I’m not ready for his answer.

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.

I storm to my room and prepare a bag. I put a few outfits, a toothbrush, and my makeup bag in it before pulling on leggings and Uggs. I’m sure I forgot a few things. I’m not thinking straight but I text Gia anyway, telling her that I’m coming over.

“Where’re you going? Gemma... let’s talk about this.”

“Now you want to talk?” For two and a half years I’m here dying a slow death and suddenly he wants to talk. After he made mistakes, after I made mistakes.

No. No.

He lets me leave, and I’m glad I had the common sense to put a black puffer winter coat on because it’s freezing outside.

“So, what happened?” Gia wants to know once we’re seated in front of her fireplace, with a glass of bourbon in my hand, thanks to James. He insisted it’d help me sleep better.

“He kissed Claire .” Relief pours out of my veins. It feels good to share this with my sister even if I’m terrified of the advice she’ll provide.

Her mouth is wide open at the spilled truth. “Get out! He didn’t.”

I nod, my heart in so much pain. The bourbon finds its way to my throat, and I slide the empty glass onto her coffee table.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gem. I can’t even imagine... I’m trying to think how I’d feel if I ever found James was with another woman—”

Don’t make her believe Harvey’s the enemy here.

I don’t want her thinking I’m innocent because I’m not. So I tell her. “I kissed my boss. I kissed Damon.”

She shakes her head and holds my hand. “Oh Gemma... Oh Gem... the look on your face. Details. Give me details.” She looks disappointed in me. Sad that I didn’t confide in her. Sad that I’d have an affair with another man.

She’s married, after all. She married her first love, has a daughter with him. She’ll stay with him forever, knowing her.

I’m a mess.

I want it. The happy ending. I want it all. I’m simply unsure with whom I’m supposed to have it.

I tell her everything, everything , even the fact that Harvey and I haven’t had sex since the accident.

“Why didn’t you tell me? It’s me. I’d never judge you. I could never. I love you. You could murder someone, and I’d help you cover it up.”

We’re both laughing at her silly comment but she’s not really kidding now, is she? We really would do anything for one another.

“Who makes you the best version of you?”

“That’s not a fair question to ask, Gia...”

Her nose scrunches up. “And why not? It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” I pull back and remove my hand from her hold. “Harvey’s been through a lot.”

“And Damon. What about him?” She’s pushing and pushing, and I don’t like this. I like my cocoon when it comes to my decisions.

I prefer standing by Harv and believing he has good reasons for pushing me away.

A part of me can’t let go of what we had prior to the accident. Sure, it might’ve been just over a year in the span of things, but to me it meant the world.

Our bond meant the world to me, and now I’m not sure how to cut ties with it.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “He’s a closed book. But he’s not in a wheelchair.”

She nods. “Believe it or not, though, I think it’s time Harvey realizes there are worse things in life. I know you don’t see it, but it’s the truth. Harvey’s still alive, our mother isn’t. Yet he chooses to waste his days cooped up in his room, drowning you with him.”

“That’s not... that’s not true.” My defenses close up all around me.

“Tell me this then... if Harvey decides to have sex with you, you’ll forget all about Damon?”

I feel empty. So, so empty.

I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders, leaning my head on the couch and staring at the wall behind her.

“You don’t even have to answer Gem... it’s written all over your face. You’re falling for your boss, hard . Is Harvey too late? Is he ?”

I don’t deny her truth.

I don’t say anything.

I don’t relish in the reality that she brought up. I already feel it. Deep down, deep in the dusty particles of my bones, I know Damon and I share something special, different, a feeling I’ve never grasped before.

“What would you do? What do you think?” I ask her next in hushed tones.

She must smell the desperation or hear it in my voice because she’s nice and tender when she answers me.

“Follow your heart... This thing with Damon—I’ll be honest, I don’t like it. You’re going to fall so hard, and he won’t be there to catch you, he won’t. You know it deep down. But maybe.” She looks away. “Maybe you’ve given Harvey all that you can.

“It might break you... it might not lead you to Damon or Harvey... but maybe you’re meant to learn things along the way.”

“I’m scared,” I hear myself admit. “I really like him, Gia. And... I do... I love Harvey.” I clear my throat to keep my emotions in check. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

We’re silent for a little while before James comes and kisses the top of my sister’s head, offering me more bourbon. Gia shoos him away, telling him that booze won’t help me make better decisions.

Then we call it a night. She tells me that eventually things will mold into place. She doesn’t even have to say it, I know it. She thinks I’m being reckless, that I’m channeling my thrilling urges into my relationships.

I’m in the guest bedroom, my head on the pillow, reliving every detail of my night with Harv, everything Gia said .

Then Damon calls. It’s almost eleven o’clock, and I wonder what he’s been up to tonight.

“Hey.”

“Gemma.”

I swoon. Swoon over the simplest thing: my name leaving his lips. “Hi.” I blush and tingle all over. I feel as if my world is crushing down, and Damon’s there to make the weight more bearable.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

He’s right. I often make sure he doesn’t need anything before leaving work. Today I didn’t. I needed the space. I needed to go back home. If I’d gotten home later, would Harv have told me about kissing Claire?

“Purposefully,” I say.

“Why?”

I want to tell him the truth. He might run away from it, but it’ll give me an answer. It’ll confirm that Gia’s right—he won’t catch me in the end.

I bite the insides of my cheek, unsure how to proceed. “I’m scared.”

“Of?”

“You. I want you . . .”

His voice is raw, as if in pain. “I want you too.”

I shake my head in the darkness, all alone. “No, I want you, want you.”

“Can’t we talk about this in person?”

I say nothing because he’s right; I should bring this up face to face, when I can see his reaction. See him retreat, see him pull back and not give me more .

“Joey can come get you. Would you like that, Gemma?”

I would. Very, very much.

I think of Harvey. I think of Gia. I think of everybody who’ll end up hurt by my decisions.

Still, I answer, “Okay.” My voice is barely a whisper .

He hangs up without saying goodbye. I text him Gia’s address, telling him I’m at my sister’s place. He replies with a simple ok , before I freak out inside.

Should I bring a bag?

What am I doing?

The thought doesn’t stop me. I’m doing what I want; I’m following my instincts. This is it. Right now, right this moment, I want to be in Damon’s arms. No matter how wrong it is.

I’m glad I brought a few things with me when I left home earlier this evening. I change into a set of lacy, dark green undergarments and put my T-shirt and leggings back on.

I put on some mascara, blush, and gloss, wanting to look alive when all I feel inside is a fog of despair. An inner black hole of nothingness. Then I wait for his text in the entrance of Gia’s house in my puffer coat and Uggs.

My heart drops when Gia comes out of her room, then walks down the stairs. I was hoping I could sneak out before she berates me.

Don’t hate me, sister.

“Will you be back tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“Gem... you shouldn’t be going to Damon like this, not tonight. You’ll sleep with him, and then what? Then what, hmm?” She crosses her arms, and suddenly it’s as if she’s chastising me like she used to when we were teenagers, filling our mother’s role.

“I need to talk to him.” She stares at me like I’m stupid and na?ve. And maybe I am. I take a step forward and hold on to her arm. “Gia, I have to make my own mistakes.”

She scoffs. “So you know it’s a mistake and you’re still willing to do it?”

I nod. “Being with him feels right.”

“Lust, Gemma. It’s called lust. It always feels right. ”

“It’s more ,” I say getting annoyed, staring at my phone when I see the taillights of Damon’s car in her driveway.

“It’s more for you . . . what about him?”

I send an apologetic shrug her way and leave, locking the door behind me with my own key. I’m second-guessing my decision every minute.

I feel guilty, knowing Gia’s trying to stop me, but even she can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with Damon.

It’s not too late; I can send Joey on his merry way.

But I don’t.

My feet can’t help walking one foot in front of the other, going after what I want.

Who I want .

“Hi Joey,” I say when I step into the backseat, and I’m robbed of all senses when I find Damon sitting at the opposite end. I shut the door.

“He can’t hear you.” Damon points to his ear, and when I eye Joey, I understand why. He has AirPods in.

Privacy. Privacy for our talk.

“Buckle up, beautiful.” I put on my seatbelt—thrown off my game. I thought I’d have a little while before I had to see him. To answer his questions, to feel his stare.

With him here—over six feet of lusty brown eyes enough to hypnotize anyone—it’s hard to think straight. He even looks good, really good, in a winter coat.

“What’re you doing here?” Stupid question, considering this is another one of his cars—a Lexus.

I push my hair back behind my ear, placing my purse on the side.

He shrugs, with an edge to the stare he gives me. Butterflies—they’re multiplying by the million in my stomach right now. “I wanted to ride back with you.”

Our eyes lock, yet we remain in complete silence. My hands are on the cool leather of the middle seat .

“What’s wrong?” He takes my hand in his when he asks, eyeing my simple rose tattoo with one brow lifted.

“Does it matter? If you don’t care about my feelings... you don’t want my heart, remember?” I throw back his words in his face, slipping my hand away from his, but he catches my wrist anyway.

It’s the guilt talking—the guilt. If I’m hurting Harvey, I need a purpose for doing so.

“I do care.” I mustn’t look convinced because he continues, “I shouldn’t... I can’t give you more, Gemma. But that doesn’t mean I’m not reconsidering things .”

I want to ask him what he means. He swallows, and I’ve never seen Damon look even the tiniest bit affected, other than sexually, of course. So I don’t push him. I push Harvey all the time, and look where that has gotten us.

Not with him. Not with Damon.

I let him be.

We ride in peace, holding hands, his thumb grazing mine, sending sparks and slivers of heat and fire down my spine.

Damon brings me comfort. He makes me feel safe. Happy. Alive.

The reckless girl in me burns at the fuel he provides.

I want more and more.

That’s how it’s always been for me though, hasn’t it? The things that are wrong for me feel the most right deep inside my soul. Because it’s tainted, its tarnished, it’s a little bit pink and a little bit black.

Damon hands me a small glass of bourbon and takes a sip of his own.

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, sitting next to me .

I sip on the hard liquor, hoping to gain some reinforcement. He pulls a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch like a lightning bolt. I don’t want to tell him about Harv.

“Does he know you’re here?” I don’t know how he isn’t jealous. If Damon were to have a girlfriend, it’d kill me.

“No.”

“Let me ask you this...” He pauses, and I take that brief moment of silence to eye him up and down. Faded black jeans, black shirt.

He’s so hot.

I’m sitting on my legs, on his couch, with a red hoodie of his that he lent me to stop my shivering. Now the fireplace is on, and I’m toasty warm.

“What do you want out of life?”

I think about his question. I’m scared, so scared, to bare myself to him.

“Let’s start with career...” he says, wrapping his arm around me. I lean into his touch, and I’m warm all over, but I’ll never say so. The smell of his spicy cologne on his hoodie soothes me.

I’m really here. In his arms. Talking about the future.

“I always saw myself as a conservation biologist. So I might do a masters in conservation biology... or business.” Working for him opened a whole new area of business that I didn’t know I could ever love.

“Office setting or field?” He’s looking at me like he wants to hand me my dreams in the palm of his hand. I’m positive I’m staring at him as if I want to let him.

“As a biologist? I would’ve said both. But... I like my job. I love drafting reports and working for you...” I trail off. “It’d be nice to try on-site projects too.”

“We offer scholarships to masters students who work with us.”

I drink my bourbon. What if this ruins my career? What if this doesn’t work out or I end up getting fired? I really need the money, and I truly want the experience.

“Hey, look at me...” My chin is over his thumb, and the intensity portrayed in his eyes makes it hard to believe he doesn’t want to pursue this further. “No matter what happens, I’m telling you, you’ll always have a place at our firm.”

Our firm. Not his firm.

I don’t doubt this for a minute; he doesn’t seem like the petty type.

But me? Would I want to work for him all the while having these feelings for him? And what about Harvey? Would he be okay if he knew? Would he want me to quit?

I’m done my second bourbon of the night. It doesn’t taste like beer, but I have to admit, I’m enjoying the burn seeping into my throat.

I place the glass back down, and he scoops me into his lap, my side leaning against his chest while his hand traces my back. I could be wearing hundreds of layers and I’d still feel his touch.

The sting.

The zing.

The electricity that filters through me when he touches me.

“And you, Damon? Is being CEO what you want to do forever?”

His other hand moves to my ankle, and he massages it. It feels good. I don’t think he realizes how happy he could make a girl if he ever chose to.

I can tell he’s thinking my question over and answers when he’s ready. “Possibly. I want to acquire more in the science world.”

“And your love life?” I ask, hopeful, taking the hand that’s wrapped around my ankle, to lightly trace it.

“Nonexistent.” His stare is cold, calculated, on a lifelong mission to scare me.

He’s waiting for my rebuttal, daring me to refute his claim. He wants the message to go through my brain with clear-cut precision. Except it doesn’t.

I don’t believe him.

What I feel—I feel it because of what he does to me. It’s more . More than touches and kisses. It might not be love, but it’s more than lust.

I turn around to straddle him, clutching my hands around his neck. “Now that’s sad. You’ll make a woman really happy someday.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. I want to erase the memories of his pain; when he opens them again that’s all I see.

Pain. Regret. Sadness.

“Why do you stop yourself?”

“Don’t. Gemma—don’t.”

He groans when I thrust my hips in his lap, whispering in his ear, “I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

He squeezes my thigh. “Trust me, Red. You shouldn’t care for me.”

This gives me pause. He doesn’t believe he’s worthy. I can tell by his tone of voice that I might’ve found the slightest vulnerability in Damon Dreygon.

“Damon . . .”

His lips shut mine up with a kiss. A fierce, passionate, out-of-this-world kiss that sets fire down to my toes. I feel it everywhere.

Just him. All over me.

When I’m with him, he’s all I can think about. When I’m away from him, he’s still all I can think about.

And it’s not good. No good can come out of this; he’s told me several times already. He’s telling me again.

Listen. Listen to him.

Despite my pleas, my heart opens up to him, my body a done deal from long ago—it wanted him from day one.

His tongue lightly pushes into my mouth, and I moan while his hands are traveling underneath his hoodie and my black T-shirt.

We break apart. His eyes dark and so, so dangerous.

“Can I?” I look down to see what he’s asking. He’s holding the hem of his red hoodie with one hand, and I nod as he helps me remove it. I shiver when he caresses his long, masculine fingers down one bare arm.

I don’t even think twice.

I take off my shirt, leaving me in my lacy, dark green bra.

The distance is there—he’s not touching me, but it doesn’t matter because his eyes are feasting on me, drinking me in. He starts at the top of my head, and slowly, so slowly, they make their journey down to my lips, my collarbone, until they reach my breasts.

That’s when he lets out a loud exhale.

Does he do this with all the women he sleeps with?

“So beautiful.” Greedy hands skirt my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His thumbs each glide down with a bra strap, letting them fall on both arms. “Tell me, Gemma... what’s your biggest fear?”

It’s as if I’m trembling all over. I’m not, I know I’m not, but it still feels as though I am. My body has come alive; it’s alive, it’s living, and I don’t want it to stop.

Please don’t make me stop living, Damon.

I want this so bad. Even if it kills me. Even if he doesn’t catch me.

I’ll spend the rest of my life with simple memories of this just to know it was possible to feel this much, to reach this type of high.

He grabs one of my bra cups, lifting my breast. “Tell me...”

I hear myself moan softly when he finds my nipple and plays with it.

“Not living my best life. Living without feeling alive. Without trying the best things in life. ”

An almost-smile finds his lips, and I kiss him. “You?” I hope he answers when I pull back. I want to know. I need to know.

The pain is back and gone from his eyes so quickly before they ravish my unpierced tit again.

“Goddammit, Gemma... I can never undo this. You... like this, in my home, with me.”

He leans forward and tongues around my nipple in a circle, my nipple rising and flirting back with his mouth. His hand slides down my leggings, and I plant my feet on the floor to remove them along with my socks.

Then I’m all over him again. Because I can’t for one second be away from him. From this. From the way I feel when I’m near him.

I close my eyes, feeling all that he’s doing to me. His hands and his mouth are everywhere. Kissing, touching, sucking—he doesn’t miss a spot.

He brands me with sweet kisses, and I take off his shirt, my mouth dropping.

Because abs .

I know he keeps active; I heard Julia, the executive director, talk about martial arts with him. I used to be active. Nowadays, stress keeps me fit, though I did gain a few much-needed pounds.

I tease his nipple, and the smirk on his face could own me mind, body, and soul. I push his hair back farther. He’s so beautiful like this.

At ease and disheveled for me. By me.

My hands trace every curve of his abdomen. I admire him. His tenacity, his discipline. It takes a lot of it to work as much as he does yet to keep fit as well. He must wake up early or sleep late because of it.

I touch every line, the entire pack. It’s impressive. No wonder ladies at work blush in his presence. Except Marie. Marie would make the best assistant for him because she doesn’t seem fazed by him at all .

“Damon . . . what’s your fear?”

He takes one of my wrists and gently caresses the soft spot underneath. I ask again, pleading with him, but he comes forward instead, grabbing my nape while roughly kissing me.

I’m swirling, swirling around, deep and deep, into the hurricane that is Damon Dreygon.

And I’m terrified. Of the calm after the storm.

Will I be all alone?

I pour each and every one of my feelings into our kiss, clutching onto his hair for dear life. I’m lightly sucking on his tongue; he sucks on mine.

And we go on and on. Giving and taking, giving and taking.

“I need you.” I’m a mess. I’m breathless as I plead for him to be inside me.

It suddenly all comes to me now that I’m past that point. Past the point where I’m willing to sleep with Damon to get what I want, to feel.

To cross the finish line into Cheatertown.

Damon leans back against the fabric of the couch, his hand fingering the inside of my thigh. “You sure you want to do this?”

I eye him. “Are you backing out?” I whisper. “Am I ruining your moral code?”

He kisses my throat. “I’d prefer if you were single, yes.”

“Never had sex with a taken woman?”

He shakes his head, his hand atop one of mine, his fingers roaming through it. “Why complicate life when there’s plenty of eager available women out there?”

I don’t like hearing this, and it shouldn’t affect me. God, it shouldn’t affect me more to hear about this then it does to hear about Harvey kissing Claire!

Look at me. The second Harvey opened up, I ran. I ran straight into Damon’s arms.

My hand is brought to his mouth, and he gives it a soft kiss. I’m itching to get closer to him, so I palm his neck while he kisses my mouth again.

I love kissing him.

“So then—why me? If you could be with anyone else.”

He grazes my jaw with his fingertips when he finally answers me. “What do you want Gemma—a marriage proposal?”

“Don’t undermine what we have, and don’t paint me that way.”

“Like what?”

He thumbs my bottom lip, but I refuse to let the gesture veer me off my mission. “I asked you a question, Damon.”

“A question that’s bound to lead to more. I won’t answer them.” He looks away. “I won’t... lose this.”

“You’ll only lose me if you don’t open up to me.”

“Trust me, Red. I’ll lose you quicker if I do.” I revel in his confession as fear crosses his features.

Then I kiss him.

Kiss him because he’s admitted that he doesn’t want to lose me. And the thought expands my chest, my mind obliterating the fact that he refuses to answer my quests for more truths.

“Damon. Why me?” I ask again, once my lips are free from his, hoping for a different outcome.

I’m such a fool. I didn’t even sleep with him yet, and I’m falling into the dark, stormy waters. Losing myself in the current.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He closes his eyes and squeezes me in a hug that says don’t let go of me; I’m right here.

When he lets go, his stare is cold and different. As if he’s allowed himself to be vulnerable enough for one night.

His mood swings are giving me a headache.

“What do you want to hear—that you’re different? It doesn’t matter; it won’t change anything. I don’t do relationships, not anymore.”

There was one .

One relationship that messed up everything .

A part of me already hates his ex for it. A part of me hates his inability to move on. A big part of me hates myself.

You’re with Harvey. Think of Harvey. Go home to him.

I push away from Damon and put on my black T-shirt and because I’m cold again, I pull over his red hoodie.

“Keep it.” He looks torn as he marches toward me and holds my cheek in his hand, the gesture so soft he’s practically caressing it. “Stay. It’s snowing outside, and I have a guest bedroom. Stay.”

It's as if he’s found my weak spot. Avoiding accidents and losing lives. I could never forgive myself if something happened to him or Joey.

So I nod, and the next thing I know, I find myself sitting three feet from the fireplace, my head leaning against my knees. It’s warm against my toes.

I put up the hood of his hoodie, needing the smallest bit of space.

There’s no air, no room to think, around a man like Damon. I can’t say how many times I saw men and women alike walk out of his office releasing a breath.

Women for different reasons, I’m sure.

But the man often seems to give people something to think about. How does he manage that? When he says so little?

He’s gifted.

He sits beside me. I can’t see him because of the hood. It doesn’t last long, though. Next, he removes it and pulls my hair behind my ear.

“What do you need?” His whispers are so low, the goosebumps start on my arms and end at my legs like a domino effect. “How do I get you in my bed?” He’s touching the soft spot under my ear, and I close my eyes.

“I need... ” God, what do I need?

I don’t even know what I want anymore other than that it includes Damon. Somewhere along the way, my obsession with Harvey meddled with my addiction for Damon. Somewhere along the way, I caught feelings for the man next to me.

“Some sort of reassurance. I don’t know . . . just . . . more .”

He stops touching me.

“You know what, Gemma?” There’s an edge to the way my name leaves his lips this time. “You keep talking about more when you love another man, yet you push and push to find out about my little demons. To see if I could give myself to you... what about you?”

His face is towering over me. “Could you give yourself to me?” He pulls back to set his eyes on my face. He’s eyeing me all over, as if that’ll tell him the truth. “Could you? If I say I want more, that I’ll try, would you leave him?”

“Yes.”

Gemma!

My breath stalls.

Ohmygod—Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.

I can’t believe my answer.

I didn’t think. Didn’t think at all; I just responded. No matter whom I hurt, no matter how much, every day I’m falling more and more for Damon.

He pushes me, at work, outside of it. Mentally, physically. He makes me better. He makes me look forward to later on, to tomorrow.

Gia’s right. I am falling for him, at a rapid rate, and I don’t think there’s any going back.

What stuns me the most isn’t my answer—it’s the greedy look in his eyes when I tell him I want to be his. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head, so I lean in for a kiss, and he accepts.

It’s phenomenal.

It’s fireworks and candles floating through the night sky.

Our mouths are warm against each other, testing the other, breaking barriers. When he pulls back, his face greeting me is the stoic, cold, and calculated Damon I’ve come to know, especially at work.

“We should head to bed. The guest room is all set up.” He gets up and offers his hand, but I refuse it.

Is he serious right now? He’s going to send me to his guest bedroom? When all I want is to be in his bed with his arms around me?

“Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea what you want.” And his comment slaps me in the face.

Because he’s right.

My mood, my emotions, are all over the place. When I’m with Harvey, I feel for him, I love him. There’s a lot of guilt there too. Loads of it. I think it’s one of the reasons I push through.

Because I’m okay and he’s not. He could be, though. If he sought therapy, he could be happy again.

And with Damon, there’s an insanity inside my chest pulsing for him, my stomach constantly churning when he’s around.

Damon’s right. Could I do it? Sleep with him? Once, maybe twice? And then go back to Harvey?

Yes. Yes, I could.

I follow Damon upstairs, shaking my head when he asks if I want anything to eat or drink. I have my purse with me, and I’m glad it’s big enough to have fit a few things, including an outfit.

He shouldn’t know how eager I was to stay here.

The guest room is simple in nature. Looks exactly how you’d expect a man to decorate it. Bare, simple, minimalist.

I’m wearing my long T-shirt with his hoodie over it when I head to the en suite of the guest bedroom to clean up and brush my teeth.

I’m in bed now, looking at pictures of Harvey, and my chest constricts. I’m thinking about how hurt I am that he let Claire kiss him. How I have no right to feel like that when I’m in another man’s house, wishing we could do a lot more than kiss.

Before sleeping, I see a text from Gia .

Gia: No matter what, I’ll always love you, silly.

Me too, Gia. Me too.

I hear footsteps and a light appears underneath the door. When Damon opens it, he walks over and scoops me into his arms.

“I want you in my bed. If nothing else, I just want that tonight.”

I say nothing, letting his words warm me as he walks me to his bed. Then he pulls the soft sheets over me, and we lie facing each other. I’m all bubbly inside when his hand lands behind my neck.

“Come here.” He tugs my body to his, and I lean into him. He’s holding me, hands wrapped around me, and I’m wordlessly sighing at how much this feels right.

I fall asleep instantly.