Damn. Damn. Damn.
His name.
His kiss.
Her tears.
Her fear.
Damon rested his elbows on the dining table and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't supposed to kiss Elena last night. He had wanted to teach her a lesson—damn, but he wasn't going to. He was going to pull his big-boy boxers on, unravel his cock, and get on with it. Maybe he would jack off once or twice, then be such an asshole she would quit and leave.
Now it didn't happen. That sassy, attitude-filled act Elena put on was just that—an act. It was bullshit, a total performance so no one saw the scared-as-shit girl inside. So no one would get close enough to look into her eyes and see the pain there.
Elena wasn't broken, though. She was strong and resilient, despite the odd switches to shyness. She was like a knotted ball of his mother's yarn waiting to be untied and unravelled, ready to spin into something beautiful.
Except she was already. Beautiful. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh—it was all so beautiful it pissed Damon off. She and her goddamn innocent beauty were messing with him so bad, and she had no idea.
He wanted to protect her. He wanted to curl his arm around her, hold her against his body, and keep her safe from something as small as a goddamn bee sting. She was so…small. She was so delicate and fragile that if he flicked her, she would crumble.
Elena was nothing like what Damon liked.
She was not self-confident or flirty or extroverted. She didn't flaunt her tits with every shirt, and her skirts and shorts always covered some thigh. She didn't step in front of him and see dollar signs or how she could bag him.
She stood in front of him and told him to go to hell in the politest damn way Damon had ever heard.
Elena intrigued him. She astounded him. She winded him tighter than a nun's vagina.
And now she was walking into the room, her head down. She tucked some hair behind her ear and slides into the seat next to Stefan.
Damon stared at her. Like he was begging her gorgeous face to look at him. He was. He wanted her to look up at him and showed him that damn sadness wasn't in her eyes anymore.
He wanted her to look at him so he could make sure her eyes weren't ghosted with fear anymore.
But…she didn't. Damon could tell from her posture that her hands were in her lap, and the shifting of her shoulders told him she was fidgeting. Her hair fell on one side of her face, the side he was looking at, like she was leaving it there deliberately to obscure his view of her.
Obscured or not, Damon was still looking.
Enzo nudged his side. "You two still fighting?"
"Nope," Damon replied, not taking his eyes from Elena. "Well, I am not. You will have to ask her if she is still ignoring me."
"Look like she is," Enzo chuckled. "The hair curtain, bro? Ouch."
Damon cut his eyes to Enzo. He raised his eyebrows and returned to his breakfast, and Damon took a long drink of juice.
The door slammed. Everyone turned and saw Caroline strode into the room. Damon turned his attention back to Elena.
Caroline turned towards Damon, a rolled-up stack of papers in her hand, and she stepped forward and whacked him on the head with it.
"What the hell!" Damon scrambled out of his chair and away from her. "What the hell was that for, you crazy bitch?"
"You!" Caroline growled, advancing on him. She smacked the other side of his head with the paper roll, and Damon ducked away from her. "You absolute dumbass, Damon Salvatore! You complete and utter idiot!"
"Damn it! What did I do now?"
"Oh, it isn't what you did. It is what you allowed to happen because you can't keep your snake in its cage!"
Damon held his hands up. "Caroline, I have no idea what you are talking about."
Caroline unrolled the paper sheets and showed him the printed side. It was a memo from Wes about a tip-off he had had. Damon stepped forward to take them from her.
"A sex tape, Damon! Sweet Jesus! After the hooker thing, you would think you would watch your damn back!"
"You what?" Alaric and Enzo yelled, standing at Damon's sides.
Damon didn't even have the energy to be mad at them for their judgement.
Caroline was right.
Some girl he had sex in Mystic Falls apparently had it on tape, and she was threatening to release it.
Adrenaline was pounding through Damon's veins—and not the good type. It was burning, searing every part of me. Damn it. He was no reality star. He didn't need some sex tape to make it big. He already did that. He needed to keep it that way.
This wouldn't help.
Stefan stared at him from across the room, shocked. "This for real?"
"Apparently." Damon threw the paper on the table. His fingers scrubbed at his scalp relentlessly.
"How could you be so stupid?" Stefan stormed across the room and stopped right in front of Damon, squaring up to him. "Again, Damon? Really? Are you fifteen? Do you have a goddamn brain cell in your brain or is it full of air?"
"Shut up." Damon's jaw tensed.
"You know what? You are trying so damn hard to mess everything up, brother."
"You think I like this, huh? You think I like these chicks coming out with this stuff?"
"Obviously you do."
"You want me to sit them down with an NDA before I ask them to pull off their panties? That it?"
"Yeah!" Stefan yelled. "Because we should be more important than getting your rocks off! We should matter more than those easy girls you drag back to your hotel room, because we are a team, Damon! We are the ones who got here, and we did it together!"
"What are you saying, little brother? If I want to go down I'm doing it alone, huh?"
"That is exactly it!"
"Enough!" Elena's voice cracked and she slipped in between them. "Stop. Now. Please." The last word was quieter, but it seemed louder than every yell they just gave.
"Elena," Stefan warned, "this is between us."
"No. It isn't. It affects everyone. You, Damon, Alaric, Enzo, Caroline. Hell, even me. Everyone, Stefan. And yelling at each other isn't going to make it better. It will just make it worse."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you won't get through this alone," she said softly. "The only way you are all coming out of this is if you stick together."
"She is right," Caroline agreed, stepping up and taking Stefan's hand.
"Yelling at each other won't fix this. Calling your manager and your lawyers will," Elena continued. She swallowed and stepped to the side. To the table to be precise. She collected the papers and sat down, flicking through each one.
"What is she doing?" Alaric asked.
"I have done a few summer internships at law firms. Learned enough," Elena replied, reading.
"And she went to Harvard," Damon added.
Enzo shook his head and looked at her. "Harvard? What are you doing here?"
"Saving your buddy's behind, apparently." Elena looked at Damon for the first time today. "There is no proof here. If she really, really had one and she wanted to exploit you for it, she would post an image that would put you in a compromising position, or she would post the whole video. It is a stunt for fifteen minutes of fame."
Stefan relaxed. The others did, too.
"So what do we do?"
Elena rolled her eyes. "I just told you. Call Wes and your lawyers. They can enforce a gag order and possibly a defamation of character, depending on what she has actually said. The media will have been careful not to post any quotes that could damage your image, but they will have the full transcripts of the conversations." She came to Damon and slapped the papers on his chest. "Get them. It will cost you, but it will help. Somewhere she will have said something incriminating. And in the unlikely event that the video exists and she posts it, you can sue her for damages."
Damon stared at her. They all did. In the space of one minute she had taken them from angry to calm, from flailing to planned.
"You, Elena," Damon murmured. "Are a gem."
Elena raised her eyebrows. "And if I'm going to have to give you all legal advice regularly, I need a pay raise."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away from Damon.
"Wait," Damon called after her. "You going to get Wes on the phone or what?"
She glanced over her shoulder at him, then pulled something out of her pocket. She turned, clicked on the phone, then threw it to him. "I'm sure you can tap the little green button to call him."
She turned again, and this time she walked right through the door.
"This is fantastic," Enzo laughed, pushing off the wall and dropping back onto his seat.
"Really?" Caroline wrinkled her nose. "Bacon? After all that?"
"Shut up, idiots," Damon said as Wes answered. "Oh, not you," he said into the phone. "The guys."
"Right. You want to explain to me what the hell is going on there?"
Damon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and explained the situation. From beginning to end. For the next ten minutes, he listened to his company manager ripped him a new asshole. His nether regions would never be the same after this conversation.
"I want your ass in rehab for sex addiction."
"Are you kidding me?" Damon exploded. "Rehab?"
"Damn right I am, Damon. This is getting out of hand. I'm all for a bit of a scandal—it is awesome marketing. But a sex tape? A year after the prostitute story?"
"I didn't pay her!"
"The world doesn't know. You got to sort yourself out now."
"I'm not doing rehab, Wes. That is a dumbass idea. We are in the middle of the tour!"
"Then I don't want to see you in the headlines, in the tabloids, front pages, trending, whatever, until after it. And if I do, I want it to be because you killed a performance. If I see your face on there for anything but, I'm hauling you into rehab and cancelling the tour quicker than you can make up a damn excuse. Are we clear?"
Damon gritted his teeth together. "Yes, sir. We are clear."
"Good. I talked to your lawyers. They are going to call."
"Got it."
Wes hung up, and he dropped the phone onto the table.
"He wants to send you to rehab?" Caroline whispered.
Damon shrugged and dropped onto a chair. "I got to behave myself."
"What are you going to do?" Enzo asked.
Damon took a deep breath and shook his head. He didn't have a damn clue what to do about this dumb plot twist in the craziness of his life, much less his manager's demands, but he knew exactly what he had to do to try and behave.
He had got to give in to temptation. He got to stay close to Elena—tried to unravel her past without giving up what was left of his own secrets.
Failing that, it was time to get a PornHub subscription.
x x x
Damon's fingers strummed over the guitar slowly, and he leaned into it, feeling the relaxing hum of the music flooded through him. It was the only thing in this world that could calm him, and given that his ass had been chewed out more times than a dog chewed a bone, calming was the exact thing he needed.
He didn't even know what he was playing. Just…notes. Random notes that had no sense or rhythm or pattern. It was just him and the music, each chord vibrating off the walls of his suite.
Damon paused for a moment to sip his water, then he readjusted his position on the sofa and went straight back to it. This time he leaned back into the plush cushions and closed his eyes. And he fell—into the music. He fell down and down and down until he was lost in the motion of his fingers against the strings and the pounding of his heart.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Damon looked up, and at another, quieter, knock, he set the guitar down on the floor and walked to the door. It opened to reveal Elena, holding her purse to her stomach, her brown doe eyes traveling up his chest to meet his gaze. "Can I come in?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"Stupid question." Damon stepped to the side so she could pass.
Elena stood awkwardly in the room, her eyes traveling through it, examining everything. Eventually they fell to his guitar and she paused. "Oh. Were you practicing? I can come back later."
"No—just messing. What's up?" Damon dropped onto the sofa and eyed her.
Her long brown hair was twisted into a braid that hung over her shoulder, and her dress hung loosely, stopping at mid-thigh.
"I spoke to your lawyers," Elena said quietly. "They are going to try and see if they can silence her and forbid her from releasing the video, but they are not hopeful. Now that it is out there—and being clamoured for by your fans, I might add, check Twitter—she may release it for financial gain. And if you approach her with money, it may seem as if you are bribing or blackmailing her, which will get you in trouble."
"I thought you said it didn't exist."
Elena chewed on the inside of her cheek. "There is evidence to the contrary."
Damn.
"Sit." Damon moved the guitar to the side and motioned for her to sit down.
She did, slowly.
"So what do I do?"
"Nothing," Elena sighed. "There is nothing you can do, Damon. Not until you hear from your lawyers. They are already offering a significant amount of money to the media outlet to release the full interview transcript to them."
Damon. She said my name again, he thought. "I love it when you say my name," Damon murmured, his eyes set on hers.
Elena blinked. "What?"
"Damon. You said it last night, too. And just then. I just love it."
She blinked again, but this time her eyelashes fluttered in quick succession. "We are not here to discuss what I'm calling you."
"Darling, you could call me Dickhead if you wanted, and it would probably still be hot."
"Are you serious? I'm here to discuss your legal issues, and you are more concerned about what I'm calling you?"
"You just told me I can't do anything about it. Why can't I think about how hot it is when you finally say my name instead?"
"Because. It is unprofessional," she managed, a slight stutter on her words.
"Yeah?" Damon leaned forward. "Was it unprofessional when your tongue was in my mouth last night?"
"Yes! And it was wrong!" Elena slid across the sofa and gripped the arm. Damon slid after her, and her grip tightened, and she really did stutter.
His arm went around her waist easily. Her breasts were against his chest, her breath tickling his neck.
"Damon, I don't…." she drew in a deep breath, and her fingers brushed against his forearm.
"You don't what, darling?" Damon sank his fingers into her hair.
"Think you should…I should…we should…um." She paused. "Do this. It is not right."
Damon laughed low, because nothing had ever felt as right as kissing her, and he touched his lips to hers. A sharp squeak buzzed through their connection, and he tugged lightly on her bottom lip with his teeth. God, she tasted sweet, like candy and Moscato wine, like summer breaking through a fall day.
Elena grabbed his bare sides and he leaned into her more, pushing her back onto the sofa. She went with him, her grip on him tightening. Their bodies fell flush together, and as Damon kissed her deeper, swiping his tongue against her bottom lip, she eased her hands around to his back.
Her hands were soft and so warm, each touch was a burning trail across his skin, one he felt tingling everywhere, because, damn, damn, damn.
Too many girls, kisses, touches. None like this.
No softness beneath him, no hot fingertips against him, no deliciously sweet lips against his.
No Elena.
"Wrong," Elena breathed.
"You afraid?" Damon whispered.
She inhaled sharply, but she shook her head. "No."
"Then it isn't wrong, Elena." His mouth descended on hers once again, and he swept his lips across hers. Her body was responding, slightly arching into him, but it was her mouth, her kiss, that consumed him.
Her tongue meeting and battling his sent him into another dimension, some ten million light years above them. Consuming him, she drove him crazy yet again.
Knock, knock. "Hello? Damon?"
"Caroline," Elena breathed. "Oh hell. Off." She shoved at Damon, then rolled off the sofa. She ran into his room and the bathroom door shut behind her.
Damon closed his eyes, still leaning over, and ran his fingers through his hair. Two kisses and they had been interrupted both times by something.
"What?" he snapped, sitting back.
Caroline slid her key card and opened his door. "Did you see Elena tonight?"
"Yep. She is in the bathroom. She spoke to our lawyers."
Caroline relaxed. "Oh, good. Why didn't she call all of us?"
"Because it is his crap to handle." Elena stopped in the doorway, her hair smooth and her lips so glossed that there was no indication they were kissing just seconds ago. "It is legal stuff. I had to talk to him first."
"Of course." Caroline looked between them. "You two were going to tell us, right?"
"Obviously." Damon rested his elbows on his knees. "Once we had spoken about it."
Caroline's eyes cut between them again. "Damon…..."
"We talked," Elena cut in. "That's it. I was just using his bathroom before I came down to meet you."
"You were supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago."
"She talks a lot." Damon leaned back against the sofa and grabbed his guitar.
"Or, rather, you argue a lot," Elena retorted, grabbing her purse. She looked at him. "I will meet you all after breakfast tomorrow, and we will go over your schedule for the week. I know you have to be in the gym at nine a.m., so please don't be late. If I hear anything from Wes or your lawyers I will let you know."
There was no backward glance as she swept past Caroline and disappeared.
Caroline stopped, though, and she hovered two fingers in front of her eyes then pointed them at Damon. "I'm watching you," she mouthed, repeating the hand movement.
Damon stared at her flatly until she closed the door. He bet she was.
Shame she would never see a damn thing.
x x x
Elena rubbed her hands over her face, ignoring the guilty twinges in her lower stomach. They popped up the second Caroline smacked Damon on the head yesterday and explained everything.
Extra media attention on The S was the worst thing that could happen. Even if the #DamonSexTape trend on Twitter told a different story—and wow, were these girls so obsessed they would watch him have sex with some girl?
Elena knew this was a risk, taking this job. She wasn't, and was not, naive to the fact that she was very much in the public eye. She was not so stupid as to think she wouldn't get snapped on camera at least once or twice, but it didn't matter, because petty celebrity matters were far beneath her family and the Davis. Even her friends rarely checked the tabloids.
Hell, she only did it on her phone when she went to the toilet, then she had to clear her browser history.
No, this job was the safest risk she could have taken. Not least because she was constantly surrounded by big, strong-as-hell men nearly sixteen hours a day.
Sometimes the safest place was the most obvious. Hiding in plain sight.
Elena shook her head to clear the crazy thoughts. She didn't have time to lament the past or the danger the media attention could put her in. She was safe here. She knew that. She was safe.
Fear nothing. You are only afraid of the things you let scare you, Elena reminded herself.
Elena grabbed her purse and headed towards the elevator. With Caroline out, she was left alone to manage the guys by herself for the first time. She had been here nine days, and while she couldn't deny she was nervous, she was anxious to prove herself, too. Mostly to herself. That she could do this. She could do something she wasn't forced into, and she could be around men without freaking the hell out.
Then again, Elena thought the fact she had ended up making out with Damon twice in as many days proved the latter point.
God. No. She was not thinking about kissing him. She was not thinking of the warmth of his hands on her skin or the soft pressure of his lips on hers. Nope. Nope.
She was doing a job, dammit. And she was going to stick to it.
No kissing or being attracted to the boss.
Simple.
Elena ran her fingers through her hair and dug the tablet from her purse as she walked down the hall to the gym. She needed to clean this thing out. Or maybe not. She kind of liked having random stuff like three pens, a mini-notebook, two ChapSticks, and a half-eaten Hershey's bar in the bottom of it. Because God forbid she did that back home.
It was the little acts of rebellion that made her feel strong.
She hummed Ariana Grande's song "Break Free" to herself. Such a guilty-pleasure song, and she was indulging in all the guilty pleasures right now. One bar of chocolate too much, one more glass of wine…kissing a handsome, sexy rock star.
Yup. So much for not thinking about Damon.
It was not even the kiss. It was how Damon held her when she panicked. The words he whispered into her ear. You are safe with me, Elena. Always.
And called her crazy, but Elena believed him.
Elena bumped the gym door open with her butt, still humming to herself, and swiped across the tablet's screen. Looking up, she saw Alaric running on a treadmill, Enzo on the bench press with Stefan spotting him, and Damon… Oh Lord. Damon.
He was sitting on the weight machine, performing chest fly after chest fly. His body was tensed, his biceps bulging, and Elena swallowed at the sight of him shirtless.
Sweat dripped down his body, and his nostrils flared with every fly he completed. His eyes were down, and she couldn't help the way hers ogled him unashamedly. Elena wished she could make them look away, but she couldn't. Because, holy muscles. That was it.
Just muscle.
The absolute epitome of the bad boy.
"Damn it!" Enzo groaned, lifting the weight up.
"Two more!" Stefan encouraged him. "Do it, you pussy!"
"Shut up!" Enzo roared back, lifting it again.
"One more!"
"Go to hell!"
Her lips twitched up to one side.
"Done!"
"I'm going to break your legs, you little asshole," Enzo hissed, wiping his hands down his face, completely spent. "Adding lifts to that. Ten more than usual!"
"You are looking a little small, Enzo," Stefan replied. "It might ruin your reputation."
"I swear to God, I will kick your goddamn ass."
"Don't be a pussy!" Damon yelled to Enzo, looking at him.
"Muscles. Equal. Pussy," Alaric panted, the treadmill slowly coming to a stop.
"Running doesn't," Stefan chuckled.
"Good to see you all have your fitness regime for the right reasons."
Four pairs of eyes snapped around to Elena.
"What? Never seen a girl in a gym before?"
Damon's eyes dropped to her arm. "Not with a purse hanging off her arm."
I walk to the seats and set the purse down. "Better?"
"Sure you should be wearing yoga pants?" Enzo asked, his eyes dropping to her thighs.
Elena raised her eyebrows. "You want me to wear jeans to run on a treadmill?"
"Impractical," Alaric agreed. "And yoga pants are very, very practical."
With three sets of eyes on her hips and thighs, Elena twisted her lips to one side and snapped her fingers. "My eyes are up here, gentlemen."
"Up where?" Enzo asked, his gaze lingering on her chest.
"Another few inches!" Damon snapped, standing up and grabbing a towel.
He wiped his face, and when he dropped the towel to his chest, where her eyes were lingering, Elena blinked harshly and looked up. He smirked, having caught her red-handed, and she swallowed, looking back down at her tablet.
"Keep your balls on, dude," Enzo said, grabbing a water bottle from the crate next to Elena and sitting down. "I'm way too sweaty to hit on her."
"And Caroline told you all to lay the hell off her," Damon growled back.
"Told you, too," Alaric shot at him.
"Guys!" Elena exploded. "Do I look like a china doll?" She stared at all of them, and when they didn't respond, she continued, "No. Exactly. While I appreciate the sentiment, don't feel like you all have to hold back on me because my ex was a royal asshole. And, let's be honest, you four are about as scary as Caroline when she is pissed off."
Stefan laughed and made his way over to her. He rested his arm over her shoulder and squeezed. "And this is why you belong with us, Elena. You took shit, and now you don't, and I love it."
"Thanks?" Elena flicked her eyes to him and away again. "I think."
"Personally, I take offense," Alaric said, dropping onto a chair. "I'm terrifying."
"Like a toddler with a sugar high," she replied. "Can we get to the point now, please? My phone is blowing up with messages from people who somehow managed to procure my number and want a quote from you."
"What?"
Elena looked up at Damon. "My phone is blowing up," she repeated. "You got it that time?"
Damon stared at her flatly, annoyance sparking in his eyes. "It is being changed."
"Excuse me?"
"Your number. It is getting changed. On a regular basis. Water please," he added, to Stefan. Stefan threw a bottle across the room.
"Uh, why?" Elena questioned as Damon caught the water bottle.
He unscrewed the cap and tooka long drink, eyes still on her. "Because," he wiped his chin, "if media vultures can get your number, that ex of yours can."
"I'm not afraid of him." Her voice was stronger than she felt, because she had never considered it.
"You sure?"
"You plan on getting laid tonight?"
Damon smirked in response.
"Then there is your answer." Elena unlocked the tablet once again. "Moving on, boys. Since you all decided to skip breakfast to hit the gym," she glanced at them all, annoyed. "I have had to haul myself down here to sort you all out."
"Guilty," Enzo said. "Sort me out, Elena."
Alaric threw his empty bottle across the gym at him.
"I have the kick of a mule and several pairs of stilettos in my suitcase, so I would watch what you are asking for, Enzo." She brought up the week's schedule. "Sit down and be quiet," she added, rolling down the document to today. "You all have thirty minutes to shower and get ready to practice. The Royal Room is booked for you for the next three days and set up per your preferences. I have your performance song list here, and it will be printed and ready for you by the time you get there. Pearl will meet us here tomorrow, and as of then, she will be watching your practices, and a certain one of you's behaviour."
"Elena…" Damon warned.
Elena ignored him. "I will go over tomorrow's schedule at breakfast, so make sure you all show up."
"Elena."
"Now I'm going to work out. Try to keep your eyes up." Elena put the tablet back in her purse and pulled out her phone. She plugged her headphones in and start her running playlist on Spotify.
"Break Free" blasted into her ears, and ignoring the stares of the S collective, Elena hopped on a treadmill and started it up. Holding her thumb down on the speed button, she matched the pace as it went up and up.
If there was anything Elena to thank Liam for, it was her fitness. His insistence that his fiancée be the slimmest, most toned woman in Richmond meant far too many hours were put in at the gym. Never mind that it was never enough—that her hips were always too wide, that her ass was too round, that her boobs were too provocatively big. She was fit and healthy, and her boobs and hips weren't something she could shrink. And hey, she liked her curvy butt.
The track changes to "Neon Lights" by Demi Lovato. Another favourite song of Elena. Another guilty pleasure. Another addictive pop tune with a beat that made her feet pounded against the treadmill belt. Over and over, relentlessly, she ran until she felt sweat beading on her forehead and the rest of the room melted away.
"Elena!"
The treadmill slowed and stopped, and Elena looked up into Damon's frustrated blue eyes.
"What?" she snapped, pulling her headphones out.
"You want to explain what that was a minute ago? About behaving?"
Elena glanced over her shoulder and saw the other boys watching them. "Water, please." She held her hand out and Alaric passed her one. "Thanks." She turned back to Damon, unscrewing the cap. "I'm not sure what your problem is, Damon. You have to behave, and you know it. I spoke to Wes. He told me in not so many words that the only hole your cock is getting is the one you make with your right hand."
Damon's jaw tightened, despite the laughter behind. He was mad, Elena knew he was, but dammit, she was not going to let any of them knew they had shared more than words.
"You are testing my patience, Elena," Damon said in a low voice that rumbled through her. "You are testing it really good."
"And you are testing mine," Elena whispered, leaning forward. "If you think for one second I'm going to let anyone know you kissed me—twice—you can think again, Damon Salvatore, then you can shove those thoughts."
"Someone is real sassy now that she is not hiding."
"Someone is finding who she was meant to be all along, sass and all," Elena retorted, just as quietly, then added louder, "You guys need to shower and get down to the Royal Room to practice in fifteen minutes."
"You are going to check up on us, darling?" Damon drawled.
"Unlike the women you usually associate yourself with, I have no issue checking up on your butts in my workout clothes before I shower. It isn't pretty, so if I were you, I would leave now." Elena stared at him intensely, hoping he got her message.
Get the heck away from me.
After a long moment, Damon pressed the On button on the treadmill and stepped back. Just as she was thinking Thank God, a palm tapped her butt and Elena squealed, looking over her shoulder.
Damon backed out of the gym, empty except for Elena, grinning wolfishly. He pointed at her, then at himself, then at his mouth in a clear message.
You. Me. Make out. Soon.
Elena shook her head and turned her attention back to the treadmill. Seconds later, her phone buzzed in her bra. She pulled it out and opened the incoming message.
You. Me. In my bed.
Her eyebrows shot up and she almost tripped. Elena steadied herself on the handlebar and hit reply.
You. Me. You wish. No chance.
You crush me.
You are supposed to be behaving.
I just had the utmost pleasure of seeing your gorgeous, tight ass in yoga pants. Darling, there isn't a chance in hell I'm behaving myself around you.
Elena ignored that pound her heart did, because that thing was dumb, and tucked her phone back into her bra. She was not sure what game Damon was playing, but he wouldn't win it. She needed to break free from one man before another moved in—kisses not included. Kisses were…something simple and attraction-fuelled. Something she never got to randomly experience until now.
Yay for your parents choosing your future husband and forcing you to fall in love with him.
Maybe I need to start a bucket list.
Kiss just for fun: I can tick that off.
Have random sex.
Fall in love.