Page 36 of Mutual Desire

Nabokov studied him again, eyes searching, and then his hand moved. He lifted Damien’s chin, their eyes meeting once more. The playfulness between them evaporated, replaced by something darker, more intense.

“So, Damien…” Nabokov’s voice was lower now, almost a growl. “What I'm understanding is that you feel pleasure in provoking me?”

Damien’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to swallow. “I like the challenge,” he replied, his voice quieter, more deliberate. “But maybe.”

“Maybe?” Nabokov’s thumb grazed Damien’s bottom lip, the touch so light, so fast yet electrifying. “Pleasure can be addictive,” Nabokov whispered, his lips just a breath away. “Be careful.”

Damien gave a small, bitter smile. He knew a thing or two about addiction. “I don’t get addicted to things easily,” he murmured. “I’m sure you’re the same.”

“Yes,” Nabokov said softly. “But some pleasures, one never tires of.”

The silence between them grew heavier. Nabokov’s hand lingered on Damien’s cheek, his thumb dangerously close to his lips, their faces still impossibly close. The Russian’s touch, the way his thumb gently brushed Damien’s skin, sent a rush of conflicting feelings through him. What was Nabokov doing? Why this proximity, this tenderness? Was it another form of intimidation, or… something else?

Nabokov barely moved, yet the space between them seemed to shrink, his breath warm against Damien’s lips. Any closer, and their lips would touch.

“And some pleasures,” he whispered, his breath warm against Damien’s skin, “are worth the risk.”

Damien’s thoughts scrambled as Nabokov’s thumb slowly grazed his lip, leaving a burning trail of confusion and desire in its wake. Damien licked his lips quickly, his heart beating faster as Nabokov’s thumb traced the edge of his lip. Every inch of Damien’s skin was alive with sensation, and for a moment, he thought Nabokov might—

A vibration from the seat broke the spell. Nabokov leaned back slightly, grabbing his phone and glancing at it.

“We’ve arrived,” he said, his tone returning to its usual detachment. And with that simple movement, the moment was gone. The SUV had stopped moving without Damien noticing. He cleared his throat, looking down at his lap.

Damien blinked, disoriented. “Thanks.”

“I’ll have your car dropped off tomorrow,” Nabokov said, pocketing his phone.

Damien nodded, his thoughts still spinning. “Thanks,” he repeated, staring down at his hands.

Another pause followed, this one more charged than before. Damien didn’t understand why he wasn’t moving. He’d been dying to get out of this car, yet now that the door was right there, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Nabokov’s voice cut through the stillness. “I need your number.”

Damien looked up sharply, meeting Nabokov’s neutral gaze. “For the car,” Nabokov explained. “In case there’s a problem.”

Disappointment flickered in Damien. He hesitated before taking the phone, entering his number quickly, making sure their fingers didn’t brush when he handed it back. Nabokov accepted it without breaking eye contact. They lingered in that moment, neither willing to leave it behind. Damien wasn’t sure why he wasn’t moving. He had wanted nothing more than to escape this car, this tension. But now that the moment had come, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. As if he were waiting for something… for Nabokov to say ordosomething.

Then, with unexpected swiftness, Nabokov leaned in again, his hand finding its way back to Damien’s cheek. His lips brushed softly against Damien’s flushed skin, a soft kiss on his cheek that was both brief and impossibly intimate.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered, his breath warm against Damien's ear.

Damien’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind a swirl of confusion. “Goodnight,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without looking back, Damien finally opened the door and stepped out of the car, his heart still racing.

THIRTEEN

The Value

Damien stepped into Craig’s apartment, his mind still buzzing with the surreal kiss from Nabokov. The limo door had shut with finality, leaving Damien alone with the weight of the moment, still lingering on his cheek.Never had Damien's cheek felt a kiss so... so what?

Sensual? Intimate? Charged with desire? He couldn’t decide.

What had just happened in Nabokov’s car haunted him, swirling in his mind with a promise of not leaving him alone.He shook the thought away, trying to focus on the warmth of Craig’s place, the inviting scent of food wafting from the kitchen. The smell of garlic and tomatoes greeted him, and for a moment, he let himself relax, inhaling the comfort of a home-cooked meal. Craig had always had a way of making things feel... easy.

Their life together was simple, uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what made everything feel so unsettling tonight. He followed the savory scent of dinner to the kitchen. Craig was standing by the stove, the soft sound of a sizzling pan filling the air. His smile spread when he saw Damien, his eyes warm and welcoming.

“Hey,” Craig greeted, wiping his hands on a towel before stepping toward him. He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against Damien’s lips. “Right on time.”

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