Tattooed Emotions Part 6

I flushed the toilet, unlocked the door, and walked over to the sink to wash and dry my hands. With a calming breath, I went to the door of the restroom and pushed it open.

I walked out, and in front of a large square painting, Damien was leaning against the wall at my left with his briefcase dangling at his side.

He came to my side where he lifted his hand to my hair and tucked a loose tendril behind my ear. He scanned my face. Concern was etched across his features. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thank you." I smiled feebly. "Sorry about that."

"There's no need to apologize." He lowered his hand and reached for mine. "Come on. Let's get out of here. There's someplace I'd like to take you."

Given our current predicament, I tried to rack my mind for the best way to politely decline his offer. But curiosity got the best of me, and my protest died on my lips.

I was quickly noticing my pattern of not being able to resist Damien. Even though I knew it would be a hazard to my heart, I seemed powerless to stop it.

I was too focused on how he made me feel...alive.

Damien and I rode in silence as we ate up the miles, and I was glad for the time to process my thoughts. Every now and then, I'd rotate to face him, and he seemed to be doing the same.

Before I knew it, he pulled off onto a secluded gravel road. I glanced out the windshield. Tall palm trees lined the sidewalk, and a narrow trail led down to the water. It was Sarasota Beach.

When he parked the car in the first vacant s.p.a.ce, I gave him a questioning stare.

"It's a perfect night." He tilted his head my way and turned off the ignition. "Walk with me?"

I acknowledged him with a nod. We exited the car, and he came to my side. Together, we ambled side by side to the bridge and crossed it. He stopped right before my high heels. .h.i.t the sand, and he bent over at the waist to remove his shoes and socks, tossing them to the right of us. He rolled his dress slacks up a couple of inches while I pulled off my heels and discarded them next to his belongings.

Damien extended his hand for mine and turned us to face the ocean, as if it were the most natural, familiar thing on earth. My breathing slightly hitched when our bare skin connected. That delicious spark of electricity pa.s.sed between us, and there were simply no words to describe it.

Damien must have felt it, too, because it halted him in his tracks. He glanced down at our hands, and my gaze followed his for a brief moment before we both looked at one another.

"It's not just me," he murmured quietly, his eyes piercing mine. "You feel it, too, don't you?"

"Yes," I breathed, feeling my neck and cheeks heat.

"Hmm..." Damien drawled slowly, seeming equally taken aback by the sensations coursing through us.

He leisurely brushed his thumb back and forth over mine. It sent my pulse into a wicked frenzy. Then, his unreserved smile sent my heart racing in my chest and slamming into my rib cage. I was left utterly speechless and dizzy from it all.

Several moments pa.s.sed before he gently tightened his hand around mine, as if wordlessly conveying that he had no intentions of letting me go. He guided me toward the sh.o.r.eline, and we began to walk alongside the edge of the water. The bottom of my feet became damp, and the sand slid between my toes. I could smell the salt in the air when the warm breeze blew across my face.

The beach was fairly vacant, except for a few people scattered in the distance. Nearest to us was a couple wrapped together in a towel, snuggling into each other, as they watched the waves crashing in.

"So, what made you choose accounting for a career?" Damien spoke first.

I gazed out at the ocean, watching as the moonlight beamed off the water. "I wanted a respectable, stable career-one that was safe, consistent, and would never steer me wrong."

Damien was quiet for a short moment, as if absorbing my answer. Then, he gazed down at me and asked, "Am I right to a.s.sume that your reasoning for your career choice falls into your belief that numbers never lie?"

I was impressed with his intuitiveness, and I smiled softly. "Yes. Numbers are always easy to figure out and balance. They are unfailing and reliable." I chanced a glance up at him and found him observing me. "What about you? What turned you into a risky entrepreneur?"

"Being an entrepreneur doesn't have to be risky, Raelyn."

"No. But there's always risk in the beginning."

"Yes," he agreed thoughtfully, bringing us to a stop. "Though, without risk, there can never be a reward. Surely, you must know that, considering you started your own accounting firm."

That was true. However, I'd never viewed my business as a risk because the money I'd used to fund it was an inheritance from a biological mother I'd never once met. It was as if she'd gifted me the outstanding lump sum of money as an apology for giving me up. It was almost like blood money or a bribery of false love. I hadn't wanted it. So, to chance losing it hadn't been a risk to me.

Knowing that explanation was too deep to get into right now, I just replied, "You make a good point." I smiled to lighten the mood. "So, let me rephrase my question. What made you want to become an entrepreneur?"

He resumed walking, and he took his time before speaking, "I began working as a young teen. It was my way to escape."

I wanted to ask him to elaborate, but I didn't want to interrupt.

"I saved every dime I'd earned, and when I was twenty-two, I finally had enough money to buy my first house." He gave me a sideways grin. "It was a complete s.h.i.thole."

I laughed as we curved with the beach.

"No, seriously." He joined in with my mirth. "I was scared to walk on the floors in fear that I might end up in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

My brows rose. "Did you ever?"

"No. Thank G.o.d," he exhaled. "I worked fifty-plus hours a week at my regular day job, and every second I wasn't there, I began to restore the house while also living in it. I used every single one of my paychecks to buy building materials, and I practically lived on ramen noodles or mac and cheese in hopes that it would fuel me through to the next day." His expression was serious, as though he were reliving those moments. "I was determined to make something of myself."

"Well, you did," I said sincerely. "You should be proud of yourself."

"I am...most days."

"Most?" I asked curiously.

"Yes. Most."

"Does that mean you're not done conquering the world yet?" I teased as we rounded a slight ridge with large boulders off to the side. It forced us to step into the warm water until it reached halfway up my calves.

"My objective isn't to conquer, per se." He shrugged, appearing deep in thought. "I just want to do my part and make the world a better place. My goal is to create elegant buildings and thriving businesses that help stimulate the economy by providing adequate jobs for families."

His answer was respectable and admirable. It showed that he cared for others, not the total number in his bank account.

When I didn't respond, he gave my hand a light squeeze. "What about you? Where's your family?"

We pa.s.sed the rocks and came back up onto the wet sand.

No matter how hard I'd tried to avoid this question over the years, it always seemed to come up and rear its ugly head.

"I don't have any."

That brought his movements to a halt. "What do you mean?" he asked, his sad eyes searching mine. "Surely, you must have some relatives."

"No." My shoulders rose and fell with the loneliness that only this topic had the power to evoke in me. "It's just me."

"Just you?" he pressed lightly, as though astounded by my answer.

"Just me."

I smiled weakly and started to stride forward, forcing Damien to follow or break his hold on my hand. He chose to keep up with me.

"Although, I do have Iris." My expression genuinely lightened, and I decided to continue elaborating so that he wouldn't pry on the sensitive subject at hand, "She's my best friend and roommate, and she's all that I need. I've known her for years." It wasn't much, but I was proud of myself for opening up even if it was just a tiny sliver. "And your family?"

The vibrant color drained from his face, and an unreadable mask slipped into place, hiding his emotions from me, as he'd done yesterday in the conference room. "It would seem that we share something in common..." He trailed off, glancing at the water.

Seconds slowly ticked by, and when I thought he wasn't going to answer me, he murmured, "I don't have one either." His eyes met mine. "It's a choice I made a long time ago, and I stand by my decision."

Confusion washed over me. By his statement, I gathered that he must have a family, but he chose not to see them. His decision had me reeling. It was a completely foreign concept to me. I would have given anything to have a mother and father.

Quicker than a snap of a finger, Damien's demeanor shifted, and his handsome gray eyes glistened with mischief as he let go of me to unb.u.t.ton his jacket. "How about a late-night swim?"

If he was trying to distract me, it worked.

"What?" I sputtered, gaping at him.

I glanced around to see that we'd traveled quite far from where we'd begun our journey. I guessed that we must have walked several miles up the coastline. We were now in front of a residential area. The houses were so s.p.a.ced out that only two were in view.

"Don't you enjoy the ocean?" he asked, completely unfazed by my reservations.

"Yes," I nearly cried on a strangled laugh, appalled by his lack of concern. "But that doesn't mean I want to swim this late at night." It wasn't late, but still, this was crazy.

"What are you afraid of?" he challenged.

I countered his question with my own, "Aren't you worried someone might see us?"

"No, I'm not." He tossed his jacket aside. His demeanor was full of confidence. "Besides, it's only you and me out here."

I scanned our surroundings again. He was right. There was no one in sight. It was just the two of us. This part of the beach was isolated.

At my speechlessness, he set about gradually unb.u.t.toning his white dress shirt, almost seductively, giving me a private mini striptease. "And my only concern is getting you into the ocean with me"-he threw that shirt aside, too, as a mischievous slow grin spread across his features, knocking me back with its intensity-"naked."

I was quickly lost in the bareness of his ripped upper body, lingering on the expansion of his broad shoulders that revealed raw strength. Then, I did a lazy sweep downward where my mouth went dry and my core scorched with heat as I took in each defined curve of his abdominal muscles. His flawlessness made me weak in the knees.

G.o.d, he is breathtaking.

He exceeded the definition of perfection. No, he put perfection to shame.

His naked torso wasn't all that had caught my attention.

Both of his thick biceps were sleeved with tattoos, each inked with tribal designs of some sort, and scriptures were on his forearms. I wondered if there was a meaning behind them. His left side also had writing, but I couldn't read anything from where I was standing. From the outside perspective of Damien, when he was fully clothed, I would never have pictured him having tattoos, so to witness him undressed was like I was seeing a whole other man.

It felt like an eternity had pa.s.sed before I reined in my shattered wits and brought my gaze up to meet his.

Finally, my thoughts settled on the last word of his statement. Naked.

I narrowed my eyes at his brazenness, causing him to counter my expression with a bold smirk. I stifled a smile that threatened to expose itself.

"Not naked," I stated firmly, praying that he was joking.

"Ah, come on, Raelyn." He inched his way forward, coming at me like a panther on the prowl. "Live a little."

His comment struck a nerve. "I do," I argued, not wanting him to see right through me. The truth was, I didn't live. I muddled my way through it, doing the bare minimum to survive.

He advanced again and circled me closely. "My guess is that, no, you don't."

I briefly closed my eyes when his chest rubbed against me in all the right ways.

"I think you live in a world that is safe, respectable, consistent...and predictable." He pulled my hair to the side and leaned into me. His hot breath was clouding my mind and my judgment. "Don't you think it's time you finally took a risk in life?"

I held my breath, knowing d.a.m.n well that he was repeating some of my reasons to describe my career choice.

G.o.d, he's right, and I hate it.

I contemplated his offer, longing to prove him...and myself wrong.

It was wrong to consider a swim with him...so wrong and reckless...yet it felt oh-so right. I'd be d.a.m.ned if he didn't stir a powerfully deep sense of desperation within me-to live, to feel alive. With him, I felt like I was breathing for the first time.

"The bra and panties stay." My voice was strong. It left no room for argument.

I would not budge on this. He could take it or leave it.

He acknowledged me with a single nod of his head and removed his pants.

Once they were on the sand beside his shirt and he was standing in a pair of black boxers, I gestured to the waistband and shrieked, "Those stay on, too!"

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. I would never have survived him if he'd stripped himself bare.

The man was ripple after ripple of raw muscle. It should be illegal to be so beautiful.

I was relieved when he lowered his arms to his sides, leaving his boxers in place.

"All right," he drawled before giving me an expectant, smug smile as he motioned to my clothing. "Off with it then."

I suddenly lost the braveness I'd felt moments ago. I was that skinny girl, but the thing was, I didn't want to be. My waist was too narrow. My lack of upper body strength was embarra.s.sing. I had no curves to my thighs or a.s.s to fill out my jeans.

Chemotherapy had made it worse. Since completing my treatments, I had gained back half of the weight that I'd lost, as it was a slow process, and my appet.i.te still wasn't up to full speed.

But if I'd learned one thing while being sick, it was to love myself, imperfections and all, and to appreciate my body. It was what made me, me. And it was the only one I was ever going to have, so I refused to let my nerves get the best of me.

With those feelings aside, I was still unbelievably nervous to take my clothes off in front of a man I hardly knew, so I tried to perceive that showing him my bra and underwear was practically the same as wearing a swimsuit.

My fingers trembled to an extent as they grasped the hem of my cream blouse to lift it from my body. I threw it on the ground before returning my eyes to see Damien staring at me with unreserved appreciation. His pupils dilated as his gaze traveled from my flat stomach to my chest and up the length of my neck before landing on my face. The gesture only took seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

I reached around to the small of my back to unb.u.t.ton my skirt and allowed my eyes to drift to his toned thighs, mentally reminding myself that I wasn't the only one on display here.