Page 21 of Reflections of Peonies
“Perfect,” he said. Then, he suddenly stood up and walked to the door. I watched, confused, as he opened it and said something to someone on the other side. He returned to his previous position in front of me.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I frowned at him. There was something wrong.
Where was the usual hilarious expression he adopted when trying to flirt? Now, there was a different emotion there, something that I didn’t like at all.
Why wasn’t he acting ridiculous? I could see the desire lurking under the surface. But for some reason, he was trying to be someone he wasn’t.
This new Damen made me feel weak.
“Why do you look like that?” I asked. “Why aren’t you hitting on me?”
Damen blinked, shocked, but it passed. A second later, something else began to settle in its place. And this time, when he gave me a once over, I felt the heat rise under my skin. He looked as ifhe thought I was the most beautiful woman in the world, which was impossible because my hair was a mess and I was wearing a shapeless, white gown.
But it didn’t seem to matter.
He leaned forward, trapping me between the headboard and his arms. My heart raced because this was it. I was so excited. He was going to say something stupid and cheesy, and then everything would be normal!
“You like it when I flirt with you?” he asked, his breath brushing over my ear.
My pulse raced, and I was melting. “W-we have an agreement!”
Damen froze. The hesitance began to creep back into his expression as he began to lean back. “That isn’t what I asked.”
My blood turned to ice as the look in his eyes began to shift, and the self-loathing was heavy in his expression.
What was his problem? Did he think I was angry? Iwasvery rude when I’d told him to leave me alone at the hospital.
He was wrong—I wasn’t mad. Dear God, I had forgotten how sensitive he could be. He must have been wallowing in despair over my callous words.
I had to rescue his fragile self-esteem.
I gripped his sleeve, and my face grew warm. “I like it when you flirt,” I whispered. “We’ve talked about this already! I like it when you pay attention to me.”
Damen froze, his eyes meeting mine once again. “You do?” he asked.
His confidence grew with every second, and a smile began to touch the corners of his mouth. He covered my hand with his. “You really like it when I ‘pay attention to you,’ baby girl?”
The purr was back in this voice, causing my pulse to soar.
His focus moved to my mouth, and the room temperature continued to rise.
I wasn’t sure what he saw, but his grin grew wider. “You do!”
He leaned in, pushing me against the head of the bed. My hands were trapped between our chests, and I had to crane my neck to look at him. My mouth went dry under the pressure of his gaze.
“You’re not scared of me at all,” he said.
Scared?
I wasn’t so sure about that. When he did these things, my heart raced, and it became harder to breathe. I had no idea why I wanted him to flirt with me. His antics were something I both loved and hated. But when his eyes held mine—when he was paying attention to me and only me—I couldn’t deny it thrilled me.
But why did Julian—and now he—both ask the same question?
“You’re incredibly brave,” Damen continued. “That’s good. You have to be if you want to play with fire.”
Bravery had nothing to do with anything. It was more likely that I had brain damage. I was about to tell him so when there was a knock at the door.
