There’s no accusation in my tone, but Damian must mistake my blunt question as one because he asks, his voice strained, his eyes glinting with guilt and hurt, “Do I really have to answer that?”
I chew the inside of my lip for a moment. “Let me rephrase. Why are you having sex with me now?”
He snorts. “If we’re being technical, right now, I’m being interrogated?—”
“You know what I mean,” I retort.
Damian takes one look at my face—at the solemn expression shaping my features like fingers molding clay—and sighs heavily through his nose. “I’m sleeping with you, Dornan, because I like it, and because I want to. And because, up until about thirty seconds ago, I was under the impression you did, too.”
“I do, shut up,” I grumble, my face and the back of my neck burning with a blistering heat. “My point is, there are no ulterior motives this time, correct?”
Damian rolls his eyes. “No. I have no ulterior motive for sleeping with you beside the pleasure of your company…and your vagina. And those perfect breasts.”
I glower at him.
“What?” he says defensively. “You havegreatboobs. Own it. Slap it on one of your nerdy T-shirts.” When I don’t laugh, or even crack a smile at that, Damian exhales, then murmurs in a soft, concerned voice, “Come on, Dornan, what is this really about?”
An uncomfortable tightness clenches my chest as the words tumble out of me in a rush. “I don’t want to stay stuck in the past. Iwantto forgive you. Fully. But to do that, I need you to help me overwrite it.”
His eyes widen as the meaning of what I’ve said begins to sink in. With a hesitant breath, he asks, “The past?” At my confirming nod, he adds, “How?”
I step forward, erasing the distance between us. “The last time you fucked me here,” I rasp, bringing my lips to his ear, “you only did it to tick a box. But after everything you’ve said to me, after everything we’ve been through, Ihaveto believe I’m not just some nameless Poor Girl to you anymore.”
“You aren’t,” Damian growls, once again carefully pushing me back, but only enough to look me in the eye. “Dornan, I?—”
“Then help me,” I plead, interrupting whatever he was going to say, because if I don’t say this now, I know I’ll lose my nerve. “Let’s replace the bad memories we left here with new ones.Betterones. So, we can both move on, and leave all that hurt and pain behind us.”
“A clean slate,” Damian whispers in awe, and the hopeful look in his eyes nearly undoes me.
Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek just like I did in Guadalajara. Then I whisper back, “A clean slate.”
Before I can get another breath out, his mouth is on mine.
Our kiss this time is a near identical re-enactment to how it went down when we were last here together—a clash of teeth and tongues, urgent and frantic. But unlike before, when I stoppedthings from going too far, now, I’m begging for it, leaning into every eager graze of Damian’s fingers and spurring him on.
His hands glide over my waist, then slide beneath my shirt to fondle my breasts, his thumbs pushing the fabric of my bra aside to lightly tease the sensitive peaks of my nipples. His touch coaxes a gasp out of me, and he swallows it eagerly, his lips curling into a smile that I can physically feel.
I smile back, losing myself to the sensation of his muscled body against me, of his hard length pressing into my thigh. I reach down, rubbing him through his jeans, and he groans into my mouth, his breath hitching. I never knew a sound could turn me on, but hearing Damian moan like that, and knowing I’m the one who caused him to do it, is a drug I could get high off forever.
He trails one hand down my stomach then and, stopping at my waist, unfastens my jeans with a deftness I would be impressed by if I wasn’t so overwhelmed by the hungry heat building in my core. As soon as the button is free, he dips that hand under my panties, reaching down to touch me where I need pressure most. A moan of my own slips out when his finger swirls over my aching bud.
“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he purrs in my ear before plunging one finger inside me.
I bite into the fabric of his Henley to keep from crying out. I could come just from this, with his hand in my pants, his palm grinding against my clit, but that’s not how things played out last January, and that’s not how either of us need them to play out now.
“Fuck me,” I manage through my panting breaths, the words husky. “Please?”
I don’t have to ask Damian twice. Retracting his hand, he grabs my waist and shifts me, switching our places until I’m pressed to the bookcase where he was standing only a momentbefore. My back meets his chest when his lips skim the curve of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You’re sure about this?” I note the hesitation in his tone behind his own ragged breaths, and hearing it unknots something inside me—whatever ember of reservation I was still holding onto regarding this.
I nod against the lingering brush of his mouth. “I’m sure. Now, hurry before Mrs. Everly catches us.”
Damian snorts. “You know the librarian’s name?”
I scowl at him over my shoulder. “I’m here literally every Wednesday. Why is that surprising to you?”
He chuckles into my neck, sending a shudder of pleasure racing through me, and I unwittingly arch my back until my ass is rubbing against his length. Whatever other snarky comment Damian was about to say dies on his tongue as he yanks down my jeans and panties.
