VEGAS follows you home (12 page)

"Damon?" I'm finally brave enough to lift my head and look at him.

His face is flush, eyes watery. A pain pierces my chest. I know that look. I've seen that look on my own face. I remember looking into a mirror at the hospital right after I lost Isaac's baby.

"I'm sorry," I blurt.

"You know?" he whispers.

I nod.

"I was worried and did my own research online. I just—"

"I understand." He cuts me off and inhales deeply. "I'm surprised you didn't do it sooner,” he says, his eyes focusing on nothing.

"You didn't answer me," I still push.
What the hell am I doing? Clearly, he is grieving and I'm being a bitch.

"No. Yes. No. I don’t know, Olivia.” With a heavy sigh, he meets my eyes. “I need this, Olivia. I need you and Alex. There is no way for what happened not to be a part of what I've done, but I can't go back now. I can't."

"We can't replace what you lost," I say, my voice strained, trying not to sound a total bitch.

"
You
are not meant to replace them," he growls.

"I'm sorry, but it seems like you want an insta-family to fill the—"

"I'm trying to get my life back, Olivia!" His voice rises. His eyes flit to the hallway and he gets himself in check. "I’m trying to bring something good into my life, something good to live for again. I refuse to go back to the empty existence I've been living."

His fists clench and unclench.

"You are my wife." He points toward the hallway. "And that is my son. Regardless of what the clinic promised you, they also made promises to me. It's not my fault you gave birth to my son, but I won't be denied involvement in his life. This is what it is, Olivia."

Intense eyes penetrate mine, like a dare to defy him.

"Calm down," I hiss.

Astonishment softens the hardness from his face.

"How long has it been since you lost them?" I already know from the internet, but I need to hear it from him.
Can he acknowledge their death? The loss? If he refuses to answer, then he definitely needs to see someone about letting go of his past.

"Why?" he growls.

Ah ha.

"It seems like you're still deeply grieving. You should talk to someone about it and get help to deal with the loss. I think—"

"I don't need a shrink, Olivia," he grinds out, his jaw tight. "I've talked to enough of them. I'm very aware that Rebecca and DJ are gone." He chokes on the last words and my heart breaks. "What I need is you and my son! Now, I think we should get back on track with discussing your move to New York."

"I'm not moving to New York," I say through clenched teeth, crossing my arms over my chest.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath.

"Olivia," he growls, "I will not have my wife and son so far away from me."

"You should have thought about that before inserting yourself into
my
life and making demands. I won't follow your orders just because you want something," I snap.

"Damn it, why are you so stubborn?" he exclaims.

"Stubborn? You think
this
is stubborn?" I snort. "Regardless of the marriage certificate, you are not my boss. I don't take orders from you and will not uproot my life for a man I barely know."

Sighing, he sits back on the couch across from me.

"I am your husband. It isn't just a piece of paper." His eyes narrow and I roll mine. "We'll come back to this." He rubs his face. "I need you to sign some legal documents." He shuffles through some folders on the coffee table and pushes them toward me.

"Are you going to order up some more drinks to convince me to sell my soul to you?" A humorless laugh bubbles from my chest.

Ignoring me, he levels a look that says he clearly doesn't find me funny.

"Your signature is needed for you to access my accounts and—"

"I don't want your money," I blurt, sitting up straight and wide-eyed.

"It's our money now and you will have access to it for whatever you and Alex need," he snaps back at me. "Don't deprive my child because you are stubborn," he accuses.

I gasp, my mouth opening and closing three times before finding the right words.

"
My
son is never deprived of anything." My voice hardens.

"You're trying to deprive him of his father," he counters. "Besides, you're taking it the wrong way. I didn't say he's not taken care of."

"Well, I still don't want it, so you can shred those. I'm not signing them." I dismiss the papers with a wave.

"I'll get you to sign them eventually."

I open my mouth to argue further, but he continues.

"This one needs to be signed so we can take care of your last names."

"Our names?"

"Yes. You both will take my last name." He pushes a long, white paper toward me.

"Ha!" I shout, but quickly lower my voice. "Our names are just fine, thank you," I remark, pleased with how nonchalant I sound.

"You won't take my last name?" he asks, clearly frustrated.

I shake my head.

"And you'll deny our son his father and right to be a Knyght officially?"

I groan.

"He's growing up just fine as a Harlow. Alex and I will keep our last name."

The flare of his nostrils gives away his attempt to stay calm. Part of me hoped he would explode so I could kick him out.

"I understand the business need of your name. But, legally, your name should be changed to Knyght, both of your names."

"Not going to happen." I keep my nonchalant facade going.

Staring at each other, it becomes a contest of who will give in first.

"You're impossible." His voice raises an octave.

Ha, you blinked first, stalky! I win!

He stands and begins to pace.

"Well, you're ridiculous. Looks like we are match made in hell."

"Why? What is so ridiculous about these things?" He motions to the papers spread out on the table.

"What's ridiculous?!" I sit up to the edge of the chair. "Damon, we are a one night stand, drunk marriage in Vegas cliché. You want to change our lives for one night. We barely know each other and you want to hand over access to your money, your name, and everything. You don't want me. You want this new identity you're creating for Alex and me. Can't you see this won't work? You need to let go of your past and let this crazy idea of us go."

Before I can scramble out of the chair, he’s standing before me. Leaning forward, he braces his hands on either side of my slouched form.

"I will not let you go, either of you," he sneers. "So, get used to me being around, Mrs. Knyght."

Anger boils up from inside me, filling my limbs. I shove at his chest enough to make him sway, but not for him to release me from my chair prison.

"Move," I growl.

His right knee moves between my legs, pushing them apart.

"What are you—?"

I push at him as he drops to his knees between my parted thighs. His arms encircle my waist and his head falls into my lap.

"Please," he begs, a possessive desperation in his words.

"Please what?" I ask without moving, unsure of what he'll do next.

"Just let us be." His arms tighten around me.

My body starts to ache from the stiff posture I'm currently sitting in.

"If you are Alex's father," he tenses, "we can arrange visitations. You can be a part of his life. We don't have to be married for you to have rights to see him. That's if you are—"

"I am his father, Olivia." His voice is cold, exact. "And I don't just want visitations with him."

"Damon, please, I don't want—"

His arms tighten almost painfully.

"No, Olivia. This isn't just about Alex. It's about you and me, too. I want us. I want you to at least try." Though my thighs muffle his voice, they don't hide the desperation.

I shift uncomfortably, the heat of his breath causing unwanted reactions from my body. He eases his hold, but doesn't let me go.

"It is about Alex. I could've easily been one of the other women. If I hadn't been the one to give birth, you wouldn't even be here right now."

"If I had met you, just you, without any of this, I would still want you."

"You only say that because—"

His head lifts from my lap. A coldness caresses where he'd been and for a tiny second, I miss his warmth.

"Why can't you believe what I'm saying? I have no reason to lie, Olivia. If I only wanted Alex, I could have easily gone to a lawyer and gotten my rights instated. In fact, I'd initially planned to do just that, but then came you."

His hands flex against my body.

"Can't you just try?" Desperation darkens his eyes.

I shake my head, slowly.

This is crazy. People don't do this. At least, sane, normal people don't agree to things like this. He's a stranger who tracked me down because of sperm. And I'm not so sure about the state of his sanity and grief.

"Don't say no. Not yet," he blurts before crashing his lips to mine.

The kiss is brutal, demanding, yet conveys all the desperation and desire he thinks he feels. The warmth of his mouth is familiar and I unwittingly think about our night in Vegas. His lips warming other bare parts of my body.

I just barely open my mouth for his probing tongue when reality comes crashing back.

"Damon—"

I try to mumble a protest, but he plunges his warm tongue into the depths of my mouth. The magic of his slick tongue massaging my own entrances my body. Heat, lust, and desire pulse from where our mouths meet, causing my entire body to ache with need.

His hand cups the back of my head and fists in my hair. Memories of his grip on my hair while he took me from behind in a Vegas hotel room gets my juices flowing.

Needing air, I turn my head and gasp.

Damon's mouth travels over my jaw and toward my ear. His tongue and teeth play along my heated flesh.

"Damon…" I try once more to protest.

"Olivia," he moans, pressing his full body against mine.

I catch my own moan before it falls from my panting mouth.

"Stop." I force the word. "You need to stop."

He continues to cloud my mind and rile my body with his teeth and tongue.

"Damon!" I shout. "You need to stop."

He freezes. I try clearing my mind with gulps of air as I push his body away from mine.

He leans back onto his heels, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"I'm sorry." He drops his head. "I thought you—"

"You just…"
What the hell! It wasn't just him.
"WE got carried away." Swallowing, I sit up straight. "That can't happen."

I try to stand, but he's right back with his head in my lap.

"We have a connection and chemistry. I felt it the first night, Olivia. You felt it then and you feel it now."

His arms slip around my waist again.

With his mouth so close to still aching places on my body, I squirm.

"Please, let go."

Closing my eyes, I try not to feel the lingering tingle he left across my skin.

This is not normal, not sane. Damon Knyght is an obsessive stalker.

"Please, don't make me leave," he bargains, agreeing to release me.

"It would be best if you stayed somewhere else."

"I want to be here with the two of you," he pleads.

"Damon," I groan.

"You know I would never harm either of you. Let me stay."

His head lifts and he stares longingly into my eyes.

"Fine, but you stay in the spare bedroom." I narrow my eyes.

"Now who's the ridiculous one?" He sits back once more. “You’re my wife. I’ve seen you naked, had you under me, screaming—“

“Okay, hotel for you. Have a good night.” I push to standing. He stands with me.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Spare room.”

“I don’t want you thinking this means something, Damon. I meant what I said. We can work out something where Alex is concerned, but I don't want this marriage. I also don't want you to confuse him by calling yourself his father."

His face hardens.

"At least, not yet," I hurry to amend.

Hurt flashes across his face.

"I'm here for two weeks, Olivia, and, as you already know, I can be very persuasive." Before I can respond to his smug ass remark, he continues, "The spare room is this way, right?"

He disappears down the hall.

That bastard!

Exhausted, I turn off the lights, make sure the door is locked, and make my way to my bed for the night. Unfortunately, the events of the night are on replay in my head.