Page 72 of Off-Limits
With my head down, I move past him, but his arm comes up and the next second we are chest to chest. He pushes my chin up, so I have to look at him, and I hate the feeling of tears prickling my eyes.
What the hell is going on here?
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Allow yourself to believe you are anything but the Goddess you truly are.”
“What?”
“It’s written all over your pretty face. I want you more than my next breath, but we need to discuss a few things.”
“What are you talking about?”
Running his free hand through his hair, he sighs.
“Upstairs, beautiful, and I will tell you everything.”
Anxiety settles in, but I force myself to breathe through it. A few seconds ago, Damon seemed ready to punish me forpainting his face, but now, now he seems pensive, almost scared, and I don’t know how to unpack that.
Turning my face away from him, I walk around him, put the lids on my paint and drop the paintbrush in some mineral turpentine so it doesn’t dry out. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time and it unnerves me.
Once I’m satisfied my paints won’t dry out, I move toward the locked door that leads to the staircase up into his apartment without looking at him. The door is already open, so I make my way up the steps, hearing Damon sigh and curse behind me. I’m not sure what he’s about to tell me but I guess I’m about to find out.
Stepping aside, I wait for Damon so he can open the front door. I feel ridiculous standing here in this skimpy outfit with paint all over me, and I admonish myself for not bringing my stuff up from the office.
Pulling out his keys, Damon slides the front door one into the hole and turns. A click sounds, signalling it’s unlocked. Damon kicks the apartment door open and motions for me to head inside. Suddenly feeling awkward, I give him a small nod and walk inside.
The door slams behind me and I jump. Breathing in a staggered breath, I head for the loungeroom, my cheeks heating when I see the lounge he caught me masturbating on.
“I can’t get that image out of my head either,” he says from behind me, his breath fanning the shell of my ear.
Closing my eyes, I remind myself why we came here and straighten my spine. Once I feel somewhat under control, I open my eyes and walk toward the couch.
Damon kicks off the doorframe and sits in the opposite lounge from me.
“When I started texting you through that site, I hadn’t expected it to eventuate. I was lonely, and I just wantedsomeone to talk to, someone who didn’t know me,” he says, giving a tired laugh. “But that backfired.”
He looks away from me and reaches underneath the small table beside the couch and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He doesn’t pour the liquor into the glasses; he just looks at them. I quirk an eyebrow but stay quiet, sensing he has more to say.
His eyes come back to me.
“Kerry-Anne and I were never a match made in heaven; and the only reason I stayed so long was Arrie. Until I couldn’t. I’m sure Arrie has given you all the sordid details about the split, but to be honest, it was long before then that both of us had left the marriage. Kerry was cheating on me, and once I found out, I never touched her again, not that we were sleeping together anyway…”
He goes silent and looks away, seemingly lost in thought. I sit there in this stupid as fuck outfit and wait, wondering what the hell is going on and what we are doing here.
Everything we are doing is wrong, but I can’t find it in myself to stop. I know Arrie won’t approve of whatever is going on with me and Damon, but right now that seems like a conversation and worry that doesn’t have to be had.
I know I’m fooling myself, but I want to be selfish a little longer.
“After I left that witch, I realised what I had been missing all my life, why I felt trapped and how I couldn’t be myself.”
Damon pauses, pours the whiskey into the shot glasses and stands up, bringing me one. I want to ask him what he was going to say, hell, I need to know what he’s going to say, but I can see it in his eyes when he stands in front of me that he’s working on how to say whatever it is.
With his hand outstretched, he offers me the drink, and Itake it. Our fingertips brush and a bolt of electricity pulses through me.
I hold in the gasp, but I see it in his eyes. He felt it too. Stepping away, he gives me his back and moves back to the lounge to sit. Even though he’s only a few metres away, it feels like more. He sculls the liquor, hisses and faces me.
