Her eyes drifted to mine and stayed.
I smiled. “Think of it like our weekly call. I want to catch up with you.”
Softness invading her expression, a smile curling the edges of her lips. “I do like having a standing appointment to complain about everything in my life.”
“You hardly complain,” I began.
“The wrong kind of chocolate in my dressing room?” she asked, lips twitching. “My male costar getting handsy?”
Red flared behind my eyes, and I almost wished she hadn’t brought that particular memory up. I’d given her a little advice on pressure points and how to execute a knee to the groin.
She relaxed and laughed. “Your face.” Her hand covered mine, fingertips slightly sticky from the powdered sugar, and I couldn’t help but remember the moment I’d first fallen for her . . . approximately two seconds after dripping that honey down her porcelain skin.
Pervert? Yes, I was.
But also, appreciative of a woman who could dive into something without hesitation? Yes, that, too, and I wasn’t dumb enough to not realize that was way more valuable than external beauty.
“I was fine,” she said. “It took one accidental knee to get him to keep his distance, and then your recommendation of an Intimacy Coordinator in my contract moving forward was brilliant.”
I flipped my palm, laced our fingers together. “I’m glad I could help.”
She studied me. “You still want to murder the bastard though, don’t you?”
“Yup.”
A squeeze of our hands before she pulled away and picked her fork up again. “Thanks for breakfast,” she murmured.
“I—”
She leaned forward, robe gaping and affording me a glimpse of creamy skin and untethered breasts.
My cock twitched again.
Hell, that was a lie.
It went rock-hard, especially when she bent further and scooped up a drip of syrup from the edge of the box, bringing it to her mouth and sucking it off.
Fuck.
The anger edging my vision from the memories of that asshole putting his hands on Eden faded and was replaced with heat. It burned through me, made me impulsive, loosened my tongue and—
“I’d buy you breakfast every day if it meant watching you lick that powdered sugar off your lips.”
She froze, pointer finger sucked partway into her mouth.
All I could think was how much I wanted my cock there instead.
Four
Eden
I was locked in place, the molten chocolate of Damon’s eyes locked on mine.
God, he was pretty.
And funny and amazing and sexy and—
My pussy clenched.
I wanted him again. Despite my rules, despite my stupidity in acting on the attraction between us in the first place.
I’d . . . been weak.
But I’d been emotional, touched by the love I’d witnessed between Pierce and Artie when they’d held their newborn baby, wishful that I might find someone who could love me that way, but also knowing that it was impossible.
To be loved as deeply as that, I would have to open myself up.
And . . . I couldn’t.
I’d done that once, thrown all caution to the wind, loved wholly and deeply and with every fiber of my being, and it hadn’t meant anything in the end. Not one fucking thing, aside from the fact that it had nearly broken me.
So no, I couldn’t do that again.
Hence the one-time rule.
But—
I slowly slid my finger from between my lips and set my hands in my lap.
“Damon,” I whispered.
God, how I liked him. God, how I wanted him.
His eyes dipped down, and my gaze followed it, saw that my robe had opened, revealing a good amount of cleavage. I was a bit more well endowed when compared to model standards and tended to carry my extra weight there.
Damon hadn’t seemed to mind last night.
Heat at the memory, arrowing through my stomach, pebbling my nipples, and making me ache. Why hadn’t I just put on clothes? I should have gotten completely dressed, not left skin visible and been naked under the robe—
It wouldn’t have mattered.
I could be wearing a full suit of armor and I’d still want him.
That hadn’t changed over six years, over thousands of miles. The moment I heard his voice, saw his face, smelled his scent, I went wet.
His eyes came back up, still hot, still taking my breath away.
He reached toward me and I stifled a shiver in anticipation, already primed to feel those roughened fingertips trailing down my skin. But instead of brushing my chest, instead of reaching beneath my robe to cup one of my breasts, he lightly tugged the material closed.
I’d buy you breakfast every day if it meant watching you lick that powdered sugar off your lips.
The words, the heat, the not assuming I’d simply fall in his lap just because he’d said something that had made my pussy wet . . . all contributed to making me do what I did next.
Which was dropping my fork.
“Ed—”
I pushed back my chair.
“—en—”
I straddled his lap.
He gaped up at me.
I dropped my mouth to his.
Nothing, but only for a heartbeat, and then he was moving, arms banding around my waist, lips moving against mine, tongue thrusting home as he took control of the kiss. There wasn’t any tentativeness or time wasted trying to learn each other’s preferences. We’d done that all last night.
This was diving straight into the deep end, tongues tangling, my teeth nipping on his bottom lip and loving the way it made him growl, him lacing his fingers in my hair and gripping tightly enough to just sting the slightest . . . exactly how I liked it.
He stood and kicked back his chair, my legs still wrapped around his hips, my body all but a barnacle as I clung to him.
I thought he’d stride down the hall, dump me on the bed.
Instead, he leaned forward and set me on the table, tugging my arms and legs free from his body and then opening the robe and spreading me like I was his favorite meal.
Distantly, I heard the boxes and silverware hit the floor, the glug of a glass overturning and water dripping from the
