Restore Me (11 page)

“Yes.”

“Why?” I lean in towards him. I’ll coax the
words out of him if I have to. I have no shame. I know he loves me
but he has yet to say it since he woke up in the hospital. “Say
it.”

“Because I love you,” he says without even
looking me in the eye and sounding resigned.

His words are music to my ears. I conned him
into saying it, but I’ll take what I can get. If dragging it out of
him means I saying goodbye to Frank, then so be it. It’s a
worthwhile trade, in my opinion. I smirk and remove my rabbit foot
key chain before dropping the key to Frank in Damon’s big hand.

“I love you, too. A whole lot more than Frank,”
I admit truthfully. He opens the passenger door of his BMW for me
while messing with his phone.
Calling Brian to come get Frank,
no doubt.

“More than any car, Damon,” I whisper, not even
sure he can hear me. “More than anything.”

***

Three car
dealerships, two very public staring contests, and one macho
display with his checkbook later, I have a new SUV. It’s a damn
nice SUV, but it was entirely too expensive, especially for someone
like me. I told him if I was getting anything, it was going to be
middle-American and average. I didn’t want the damn Volvo XC90. I
could have gotten a Nissan Rogue for half the price of the fancy
ass Volvo. The only reason he won the argument was because he
dragged Hemingway into it. He knows I take him nearly everywhere
with me and he just had to tell me that he thinks the Volvo is
safer for both me and our dog.
Ridiculous! I’m not a soccer mom,
we have a DOG!

My argument was based on price and coolness of
the name. Nissan Rogue. It fits me. It fits him. It fits both of
us. Needless to say, my argument about coolness lost to his safety
specs. I guess he’s right. I’ll give him that much.

And I did get to choose the color. It’s a
beautiful dark blue. Damon had no objections to the color so blue
is what I got.

“Is it really necessary for you to be this
stubborn all the time?” Damon opens the door to the penthouse and
motions for me to go in ahead of him.

“Is it really necessary for you to have a
pissing contest everywhere we go? Next time just whip it out and
show them how big it is.” I work hard to keep my grin at bay.

He cuts his gaze to me and gives me his best
evil eye. It’s hilarious. Men are peculiar creatures. I guess I
should be the bigger person and get it over with. I drop my bag on
the glass end table in the living room and march right over to my
irritated man.

“I love the car. Thank you. And sometimes I do
like having pointless arguments with you,” I confess as I stand toe
to toe with him. I lift my hands to his chest.

His sculpted muscles bulge against his dress
shirt. He inhales deeply and unclenches his jaw. “Why ?” he
grumbles.

“I think it’s the prospect of having makeup sex.
It’s just so enticing.” I snake my arms around him and lean my
cheek against his chest, careful to avoid his bruises. “Plus, I
just want you to talk to me.”

“I told you I’m trying,” he says quietly.

I can hear his heartbeat speed up; this must be
making him anxious. I don’t want to push him and he
does
seem to be taking baby steps in the right direction. I nod against
his chest.
Patience. It’s never been my strong point.

His hands start at my shoulders then slide down
my arms. He pulls my arms from around his waist to free himself.
Back to arm’s length.

The distance between us is unwelcome.

“When do you plan on selling Sutton’s property?”
He asks the question like he’s asking about the fucking weather and
it’s a slap in the face.

“Ah, I wasn’t planning on selling his house or
car at all.”

I watch Zombie Damon as he seats himself
robotically on the shitty sofa on the other side of the coffee
table. I plop down across from him.

“Those are things you need to be thinking about.
You have no use for the property, Josephine. You can’t leave it
empty. It needs regular maintenance and upkeep. So does the car.”
He consults his phone. “I’ll have Brian look into selling
them.”

“You most certainly will
not
!” I blurt.
“I’ll rent the house and drive the car some. Noni from The Diner is
actually hoping to move out of her place, so maybe I’ll rent it to
her for cheap. Just the cost of maintenance stuff. And taxes.” I
lie my ass off to his face and I already feel bad for it. I’m just
not ready to get rid of Captain’s house, and if worse comes to
worse and Damon and I don’t work out, I’ll need a place to
live.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t buy my line of
bullshit. For a second, his expression is stern, his fingers poised
to call Brian.

“It’s still too fresh, Damon,” I tell him
honestly.

“I know. Talk to Noni, then, please.” He gets up
from his spot on the couch and starts to walk away. He pauses for a
beat when he gets near me. His hand goes to my face and his thumb
makes one pass over my bottom lip then falls away. He really is
trying, but his eyes are still empty.

I’ll just have to be patient and take what I can
get. I want my sweet Damon back so badly I think I’d do just about
anything.

My ringing phone distracts me from watching
Damon disappear into the hall leading to his office. I pull the
phone from my bag and tap the answer button on the screen.

“Hey, Brianna.” I laugh at my funny and inwardly
pat myself on the back.

“Like I’ve never heard that one before! I kind
of like it when you say it, though, Jo. All badass. Maybe I should
start doing drag just so I can use that name,” Brian purrs,
sounding all kinds of flamboyant.

“If you do sign up for a drag contest I’ll be
your biggest fan. You can borrow my Jimmy Shoos. I mean Choos.”

Brian bursts out laughing as I check the time
and head into the kitchen to graze through the pantry for something
to make for dinner.

“Okay, so I would have texted you, but it would
take forever and a day.”

I roll my eyes. It’s kind of fun to have a
friend to chat with on the phone. “What’s up?”

“The designer for the store? Orange Cream Carrie
or someone else? She called today asking a billion questions, but I
didn’t know what to tell her, so I just took a message.”

It’s my turn to laugh my ass off and I do. “She
may be the exact shade of a creamsicle, but I bet she doesn’t taste
like a frozen treat,” I sputter out between giggles.

“Ask Damon, he might know.” Brian realizes his
mistake the moment he says it.

“He fucked her?”

“Aw, shit. I…he…um…I’m not sure. Fuck, he’s
gonna kill me.”

Jealousy rears its hideous head and I can feel
my blood start to boil. He fucking hired some stupid twat he slept
with to decorate the store?
My
store?

Oh.

Hell.

No.

“Don’t worry about it,” I assure Brian. “It’s no
biggie. I’ll handle Orange Cream Carrie. I wonder how he’d feel if
I hired Handy Andy to come screw in some stuff around here.”

“Ough, burn! Wait, who’s Andy?”

I snicker mischievously into the phone. “He’s
this ultra-hot maintenance guy at Grams’ retirement home. He and
Damon had a staring contest when Damon came to get me today. It
reeked of testosterone. He’s even hotter when he’s pissed, by the
way. You probably knew that, though.”

We both laugh. I turn to lean my back against
the island and big fucking shock. There’s Damon.
Great!

“Hang up,” he growls. His nostrils flare. His
jaw clenches.

I contemplate ignoring him but decide against
it. I don’t need to provoke him.

“Oh shit. He’s in the room, isn’t he?” Brian
whispers, even though Damon can’t hear him.

“Yep. Call ya later, Brianna.” I hang up and set
my phone on the counter behind me and prepare for the
confrontation. I hope he’s ready, too, because I’m still not
exactly happy about him hiring Orange Cream Carrie. I fold my arms
and wait for it.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talking about
that asshole again.” The veins in his neck and arms are bulging as
his anger gets the best of him.

“Well, I don’t want to working alongside some
bitch you screwed!” I snap. He doesn’t even flinch. “Although, I
bet it’s all kinds of convenient for you; your current girlfriend
working with your ex. It must allow you to keep your options pretty
open.” So much for not provoking him.
Fuck!

“What are you doing in here?” he demands.

In the kitchen?
He has me confused now.
“What? I was looking for something to make for dinner. I’m
starving.”

“We’ll order takeout.” He stalks toward me and I
know I’m in trouble.
Looks like a blindfold and bondage kind of
night.

“I can cook something quicker than—”

He interrupts me by putting his finger over my
lips and pulling me away from the island. He steps around me and
sweeps my hair to one side with his hand. His lips come so close to
my neck that chills consume me from head to toe.

“Takeout,” he reiterates.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. He’s
testing what little patience and self control I have.

“We have some things to clear up before we
order.” His moist lips go to my neck and he kisses me softly,
drawing out the connection.

A moan flies out of my mouth before I can stop
it. It shows just how desperate I am for him. I’m desperate and
needy for his touch; for his lips on my skin; for my Damon.

***

Damon’s breath
taunts my sensitized skin. “There’s not room for jealousy games in
this relationship,” he whispers into my ear, coaxing a shiver. “We
have enough going on.”

His hands slip around to my front. One hand
splays low across my back, holding me to him, while the other
slides painfully slowly in between my thighs. My body is flush
against his, chest to chest, and I can feel every muscled inch of
him. He presses his bulging erection against me, making my body
stir with desire. White-hot arousal makes my flesh slick and my
cheeks burn. He teases my wanton body with slow, circular passes
over my clit. I writhe in his grip.

“Is this what you want?” he croons. His
movements find a delicious, decadent rhythm; my heart begins to
pound and I start to pant as his fingers work me closer and closer
to orgasm.

“Mhmm,” I moan, desperate for relief.

His movements slow, leaving me frustrated.
What the fuck, man?!

“Walk,” he demands.

I startle, but comply with a tentative step. He
guides me all the way to the living room with one hand on the small
of my back, the other still making slow circles over my clit. He
releases me abruptly and I moan from the lack of contact.

“Take off your clothes,” he demands, lounging
back on the sofa and watching me closely.

I take advantage of the attention and undress as
slowly as possible, taking my sweet ass time folding each and every
piece of my clothing, including my sopping wet panties.

“Am I what you want?” His voice is hoarse and I
catch him adjusting his pants.

His question seems stupid, but I’ve come to
understand that Damon has a rhyme and a reason to everything he
does.

“Of course.” I nod expressively. “Always.”

He crooks his fingers and motions for me to come
to him. “Take what’s yours, Josephine.”

I step between his legs and immediately drop to
my knees. I unbuckle his belt slowly, taking my time the way I know
he likes it, and pull the leather from the loops, tossing it to the
other end of the couch. He’s watching me carefully, eyes dark with
need. I unbutton and unzip his pants with ease and push them to
floor. His hard cock peeks out from the top of his underwear and
lies heavily against his lower stomach. I edge his boxer briefs
down his hips, revealing inch after delicious inch. Every vein is
pulsing, causing his heavy cock to twitch with each beat of his
heart. I take it in my hand and give it one tentative stroke.
Leaning in, I push his boxers to the floor and run the tip of my
tongue from root to tip, swirling lightly across the top of the
wide head. Damon groans deep and low in his chest and leans his
head back against the couch, fisting the pillows on either
side.