Page 99 of Pandora's Pleasure
Earlier, I’d almost blurted out my love for him.
Almost.
Caressing my chest, I tried to decipher these swirling emotions around my heart.
This wasn’t a bad place to hide out from the world—even with the threat of the paparazzi looming. There seemed to be areas in the garden I could hide.
I climbed out of bed and spent a few minutes in the bathroom to freshen up and deal with my smudged mascara and messy hair. I looked like I was strung out from a sexcapade.
I put on my yellow Fendi floral mini sundress and gold sandals and went looking for Damien. He wasn’t anywhere in the cottage.
Popping on my sunglasses, I left the cozy setting and strolled down the pathway toward a garden surrounded by lush foliage and tall palm trees. An opening revealed another sparkling pool with lounge chairs and a table set for a late lunch beneath a sunshade.
Damien was swimming laps in the pool, cutting through the water with his back muscles bulging and his toned arms propelling him along. This man had endless endurance. It was easy to stand here and enjoy the impressive display.
Eventually, he swam to the tile steps and rose up out of the water, his muscular form covered with shimmering droplets across his sun-kissed flesh. His dark hair turned sable when wet, highlighting his deep brown eyes. His blue swimming trunks did nothing to hide his major asset.
“You look nice.” It was all I could think of to say.
Looking amused, he whipped a towel off the back of a lounger. “Yellow looks pretty on you.” He studied me for a beat and then dried his face off. “We’ll shop later. You need shorts and T-shirts.”
I shrugged. “That’s fine.”
“You dress like a princess.”
I smirked back. “An American princess.”
His expression softened. “How are you feeling?”
It was hard to know what he was referring to—the finger fucking earlier by the pool or our argument. He continued assessing how I felt about everything we’d donehe’d done.
I shrugged. “Okay.”
He tossed the damp towel on a chair and pointed to the table. “Hungry?”
Ambling up to him, I whispered, “I suppose us eating a late lunch together is expected—another photo-op.”
He loomed over me. “They’ll possibly have a body language expert break down each photo. Be mindful of the way you behave around me. No more slapping allowed. Unless it’s my hand onyourass.” His lips hovered close to mine.
“Then conduct yourself appropriately, Mr. Godman.”
He smiled. “You do realize I’m your ‘get out of jail free card’.”
“How?”
“With me there are no rules. Anything you want is yours.”
“Except my independence.”
“You’re living in the free, privileged world. You’ll never go hungry. You’ll never know what it feels like to be homeless, or sick with no access to medicine. And you can walk around here naked if you want with no fear of having your human rights removed.”
My throat tightened with shame.
“Too much?” His lip twitched in amusement.
I couldn’t think of a response.
“It’s not your fault. You’ve been protected from what goes on out there.”
