Tattooed Emotions Part 9

Cale's eyes bulged as he finally spotted Damien.

I cut in before Cale could dig himself into a deeper hole, "How could you?" I looked into the eyes of my friend. "I trusted you!"

"And what exactly did this guy say to make you believe I've broken your trust? Did he also tell you that he uses women and tosses them aside like bags of trash?" Cale laughed humorously with his attention darting between Damien and me. "If you want a list of f.u.c.k-ups, you should be looking at Damien, not me. I've done nothing wrong."

The fact that Cale was in attack mode at his so-called friend put me on instant guard. I just wanted this evening to be over with, so I told him, "Stay out of my building, Cale. You're not welcome there until we figure this out." My voice resounded with defeat as I pressed myself into Damien, not wanting to be so close to Cale.

Cale looked worried from my retreat, and he inched forward. "It's not what you think, Rae," he said desperately, using my nickname. "Please, just let me explain."

His appearance told me everything I needed to know. He was guilty. My world as I'd once known it was undeniably crumbling. "I don't want to hear it. And make sure you hire a good attorney. You'll need one." I pivoted on my heel and headed toward the exit, prepared to leave.

"Don't threaten me, you sick b.i.t.c.h. If anyone should be concerned, it's you." Cale's menacing tone halted me in my tracks, causing me to instantly stiffen at his hurtful idea of a joke.

I gradually forced myself to spin around and look him dead in the eyes where I saw his own intoxicated ones widen with clarity.

"Sick b.i.t.c.h..." He rolled with laughter that made my heart turn to ice. "How fitting!"

Before I could process what was happening, Damien charged toward Cale and tackled him with a loud thud as their bodies collided. The two of them stumbled into the booth before slamming onto the floor. Damien straddled Cale's waist and c.o.c.ked back his right arm before sending his fist forward to deliver a hard blow to Cale's cheek as I watched, frozen in utter horror.

Cale's head snapped back, and when he lifted it, Damien punched him again, moving with skill.

"You'll f.u.c.king leave her alone," Damien seethed, delivering a third hit to Cale's jaw.

I forced my limbs to snap into action. I ran and latched on to Damien's shoulders where I yanked him backward, mindful of his powerful movements. "Stop, Damien! Stop!"

Damien's arm paused midair, and he rotated to face me. His eyes were frighteningly dark, and his breath was coming and going with labored actions. Cale lay beneath him, staring up at me with a shocked expression. Kate and Noah were still seated in the booth, watching the scene unfold before their eyes, appearing stunned into silence. There was a shout here and there in the distance, and I was sure the bouncers were making their way through the crowd.

"Please stop," I pleaded on a whispered cry.

Damien dropped his head and slowly nodded before rising to his feet. His suit was creased, so he flexed his shoulders to readjust it, and then he straightened his tie. He tilted his head down at Cale and glared at him. "You have no one to blame for this but yourself, Cale. Only a coward steals to make a quick buck."

Cale didn't respond.

Damien took my arm and guided me out of the bar. "Let's get out of here."

It wasn't even close to a "quick buck," but I wasn't about to correct Damien in his state of mind.

The crowd parted for us, and Damien and I pa.s.sed two large bouncers as we wordlessly slithered our way toward the exit.

Once outside, the fresh air hit me, and I inhaled deeply. I hadn't known what to expect when I went into the bar, asking for trouble, but it surely hadn't been that.

When I went to turn toward my car, Damien's hold on me didn't ease up.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously.

"You're coming with me," he stated matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument.

"I am not." I tried to pull myself free, suddenly irritated with him for being here in the first place. "Why were you following me? Have you been watching me?" I asked. Even though the answer was clear as day, I didn't think he should get off so easily.

"Of course I've been keeping an eye on you," he deadpanned, as if it were no big deal. "I showed you proof that your partner stole nearly seventy grand from me. I wasn't going to leave you unprotected."

We reached his car, and the black paint shimmered under the lampposts.

"Cale would never hurt me," I argued.

He might be a thief, but that didn't make him a threat-or at least, I hoped not.

Damien shot me a disbelieving look. "You have no idea what Cale might do, and neither do I. He's in debt up to his a.s.s, his company is at stake, and he's facing felony charges." He unlocked his car and opened the pa.s.senger door for me. "When someone's freedom is at risk, that makes them unpredictable and a threat."

My mind was on overload. I wanted to deny the severity of the situation. I felt like I was stuck in a nightmare, and exhaustion was quickly settling in.

At my speechlessness, Damien gestured to the pa.s.senger seat. "Get in."

"No." I shook my head, appalled by his domineering tone. He had no right to order me around. But why does it make him sound and look so s.e.xy, especially when his jaw twitches in exasperation?

He countered, "Now, Raelyn."

I gaped at him and straightened my spine, prepared to stand my ground. "I said, no."

Damien stepped into my personal s.p.a.ce, causing my breath to catch in my lungs, as he raised his hand to my chin and tipped it up to his face. His lips were so close to mine.

"Let's get one thing straight while we're standing here," he murmured, softly caressing my skin with his callous hand. "Whether he is your friend or not, until I figure this out, I'm not willing to take any chances where you're concerned."

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, his gaze lingering on his deliberate movement, before he looked back at me. The purity of his desire was evident in his eyes. My breathing accelerated, and my blood sizzled with a rush of untamable need.

Ever so slowly, he closed the gap and pressed his mouth to mine, claiming my lips. Delicious sparks took flight in my belly, and I sank into our embrace. His tongue parted my lips where he swept it back and forth over mine, tenderly at first and then increasing his pressure. He was taking what he wanted but giving me back so much more.

All too soon, he gave my lower lip a soft tug and drew back. "Understood?"

With intense concentration, I mentally backtracked to remember what he was talking about. It took me a moment to fight through my l.u.s.t-filled mind until I eventually succeeded.

He wasn't willing to take any risks with my safety. I didn't have the strength or inclination to argue with him.

"Yes," I breathed, nodding my head.

"Good." He unleashed a breathtaking smile and guided me into his car. "In you go."

After he shut the door, I fumbled with my seat belt and attempted to gather my scattered wits. It was no use.

Damien Heathman had stormed into my life, and I had a profound feeling that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

After fifteen minutes of driving out of town, I was surprised to see Damien driving along the same strip that he had when we went for a walk on the beach. I was even more shocked when he made a left turn into a private driveway a few miles up the coastline. This had to be within a half mile of where we'd gone swimming in the water.

I gave Damien an incredulous look as he came to a stop at an automatic wrought iron gate. He rolled down his window and entered a key code. Before I could verbalize my reservations about him bringing me here, my attention was quickly distracted by the spectacular view surrounding me.

The entire property was enclosed by a stone wall that must have been at least six feet tall. It looked aged, yet it held a magnificent rustic beauty. The black gate gradually swung open, and Damien accelerated up a driveway made of light-colored concrete pavers with a darker pattern around the edge. Gorgeous palm trees lined either side of us.

Damien curved to the left as the path rounded, and I lost my breath when a two-story home came into my line of vision. It was made of stucco with a ceramic-tiled roof, giving it that Southwestern cozy feel.

The driveway veered again, this time to the right, where there was a four-car garage connected to the home with a breezeway between the two buildings. Damien elevated his arm and tapped a small b.u.t.ton on the roof of his car, opening the first garage door.

He pulled in the vacant s.p.a.ce and parked the car. We both exited, and I immediately noticed another black sports car next to us. Beyond that, there was a huge four-door black GMC Sierra, and the last stall stored a black speedboat with cream leather interior. I recalled that all his tattoos were also black with not a single inch of color.

I let my gaze drift back to Damien. He was quietly studying me from the front end of the R8.

As he neared, I was eager to fill the silence, so I told him, "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that black is your favorite color."

"That would be correct." Damien grinned for the first time, causing my own smile to reveal itself.

Black was a stunning hue even though, in all actuality, it wasn't technically a color at all. For some unexplainable reason, it seemed to suit him well.

I acknowledged his statement with a tilt of my head, unsure of what else to say. Nerves were beginning to seep into my pores at being in Damien's home, and I suddenly felt like I was way in over my head.

I was about to voice my concerns when Damien came to my side and set his hand on my back.

All previous thoughts dissipated into thin air as he said, "Come on. You must be hungry."

"Okay." I tried to keep my voice from squeaking.

He guided me toward a side entrance where he opened it and led me through the short breezeway. The large archway on both sides of us allowed natural lighting to flow into the area.

We came to another door with a keypad. Damien punched in a code and then rotated the handle to let us into the home. Again, I was floored with what was before my eyes as my feet carried me forward through the foyer and into a great room.

All the walls were an earthy cream tone, and they were vibrantly decorated with landscape paintings, yet the hardwood was extremely dark, almost the color of charcoal, and appeared to be slightly textured. I'd never seen anything quite like it before.

I followed Damien past a black leather couch and sofa where we entered the kitchen. He pulled out a black leather stool for me to sit down, so I did.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He walked around me and went to the fridge where he opened it. His eyes appeared to scan the contents before glancing over his shoulder at me. "Do you like stir-fry with chicken, rice, and bell peppers?"

"Sure."

Damien set about the kitchen, working fast and efficiently. The chicken and peppers were sliced with precision and tossed into a frying pan where they cooked along with the water and rice.

He rotated between checking on the food and setting the table with two sets of plates, utensils, and wine gla.s.ses before retrieving two bowls of fresh fruit from the fridge and placing them in the center of the counter. All I could do was watch, captivated by his graceful movements and the way he carried himself. I felt bad for not offering to help, but I had no idea where anything was, so I would only be in his way.

When the food was finally finished cooking, Damien brought the hot pan over to me and scooped the food onto my plate and his before setting it back on the stove. Then, he sat beside me in the spare stool.

"Did you decorate your home yourself, or did you have an interior designer?"

"Just me," Damien said softly. He lifted his fork before turning to look at me with uncertainty. "Too much black?" he asked, as if reading my mind.

In all honesty, it wasn't overpowering. It really did fit him well. It had just been more of a surprise than anything.

"No," I replied. I stared down at my food, preparing to take a bite. I hadn't eaten since lunch, and I was starving.

"I had a few art cla.s.ses as my electives back in college. They came in handy when I bought this place."

"How long have you owned it?" I took a sip of my wine.

"For two and a half years. I've pretty much remodeled most of the estate while trying to keep some of its original brilliance." He filled his fork with food and took a bite.

"You've done a wonderful job," I complimented him before digging into my food.

"Thanks."

For the rest of the meal, we ate in a comfortable silence. By the time we were done, I found myself feeling at ease. I helped him load the dishwasher, and I wiped down the countertops.

It was dark by the time we went out onto the back terrace. With each of us carrying a wine gla.s.s, he led me toward a patio set. The walkway was stamped concrete with all sizes of hexagons embedded into the design. Lighting around the edges of the path and the moon sparkling brightly in the sky provided the only illumination around us.

I instinctively veered toward a plush double-wide lounge chair. It looked heavenly. I was utterly stunned when Damien sat next to me in a way that our bodies happened to brush against one another.

I wasn't sure if I was awed more by my surroundings or by the man touching me and making my heart do wicked things in my chest. I was positive it was the latter, yet I forced myself to tuck that observation into the deepest part of my mind as I focused on the view before me.

There was a rectangular in-ground pool off to the side, and it was long enough to swim laps in. A stone walkway led to the ocean, which was about thirty yards straight in front of us. The waves were larger today as they rolled onto the beach.

It reminded me that we hadn't been too far from this exact location just days ago, so I let myself take a peek at Damien to ask, "Why did you bring me here the other day?"

Damien took a sip of his wine while gazing out at the water. My eyes greedily drank in the sight of him as the seconds ticked by, taking in the set of his eyes that appeared to be deep in thought, while he carefully sought out his response.

As he turned those handsome eyes on me, riveting me, my breathing hitched in my throat.

"I'm not sure." His shoulders rose and fell. "I just wanted to bring you someplace quiet, somewhere I could be myself, where it would just be the two of us."

His reasons were understandable, yet they made another question rush to my lips. "You like the quietness, don't you?"

I was almost positive I knew his answer. Most people wouldn't commute thirty minutes to and from work if they didn't like a sense of peace.

"Yes. I need a place to unwind, away from the city," he murmured, as if confessing a secret. "It's part of who I am."

I wished he would divulge more of himself to me, but I perceived it was something Damien didn't do frequently or so easily with others. He was confounding. My reflection led to my next conclusion.

Damien living outside of the city was not at all what I'd pictured in my mind, especially with his demanding career. He could afford to live anywhere.

"I must say that this"-I gestured around me-"is not what I expected. You are not what I expected." My voice was but a whisper.

Damien went still beside me. Then, with deliberately slow movements, he sat up and pivoted, bending his left knee to put my legs atop his.

His stare was a little apprehensive. "And what did you imagine?"

"I...I don't know," I stammered on a shy shrug. My cheeks heated as I suddenly felt wary to voice my feelings. I took a sip of my wine and diverted my gaze away from his penetrating one to see the waves crashing in. "I guess I envisioned a CEO living in the city for convenience, an elaborate top-story penthouse with someone to drive him around, and maybe even a housekeeper or a private cook." I hadn't antic.i.p.ated him living an ordinary lifestyle. It was admirable and refreshing.

The hushed air that descended over us was unnerving until Damien finally spoke, "Well, you're wrong, Raelyn. This is me. It's all I need, not some castle with butlers and s.h.i.t." His tone was filled with an edginess I couldn't decrypt.

I instantly felt bad for giving him the wrong impression. I was about to apologize until his spare hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and it began to caress small circles just above my kneecap.

He queried, "Are you disappointed?"