I know I'm getting repetitive here, but thank you all so much for your reviews. It's such a pleasure being able to read them after I post a chapter, especially considering most of the time I've edited the thing so many times because it doesn't feel right. I've always been over-critical of my work and your positive feedback really assures me that I'm doing something right and the worry is all in my head. So thank you for that, it's really helped. :)

Hope you like the new chapter!

"Aren't we there yet?" I goaded. "I'm getting impatient."

Considering the information I promised to finally reveal to Damon, I should have been embracing the previous fifteen minutes it'd taken us to get to his secret location. The more time we spent getting there meant more time I was spared of dishing out my secrets. But the breeze from the night air during the way over on Damon's bike had ridden some of my pent up anxiety over the situation. And with one of his arms laced around my waist, guiding me to this mystery spot, and the other shielding my eyes from seeing anything besides pitch black, I'd never felt more comfortable. As it was right now, I felt more turned on by his confining contact than nervous over what I'd eventually have to disclose.

"Almost," he replied, rubbing his index finger in subtle spheres against my back as we continued moving forward.

We'd only taken a few more steps when a random voice broke through nature's silence. "Nice apron, dude."

"Thanks," Damon called out before lowering his face back against the side of mine. "Dude?" he repeated in a low, amused tone. "Did that guy really just call me dude?"

I giggled as Damon's breath tickled my ear, finding myself moderately amused that he'd been caught in his 'Kiss the Cook' apron as well as slightly irritated that I couldn't visualize the source of the jab. Still, at least now I knew we were someplace remotely public. It wasn't much of a clue, but better than nothing.

"I think he did. But don't let it get to you," I assured before twisting my head to the side just far enough to feel the skin of his cheek brush against my lips. "I personally find you extremely sexy in your apron. Well, from what I remember."

"Your eyes haven't been covered that long," he retorted as his face twisted and his lips slid against mine. "However, I doubt it even comes close to how delicious I find you in those stockings."

The nylon of those very stockings suddenly seemed to restrict against my electrified skin along with the remaining pieces of my carefully chosen lingerie. The thought of revealing the piece had me forgetting completely about the reason we were at this location and honing in on what I wanted to do instead once we got there, whether it was public or not.

"I was beginning to wonder if you noticed," I responded cheekily, hoping the sultry tone of my voice had the same effect his did on me. "If you're lucky, I might just let you take them off later."

"Absolutely not," he whispered into the flesh of my neck as his hand grazed its way towards my flat stomach, just below my breasts. "If anything, they'll be the only thing you keep on."

My body instinctively molded into his hold, ready for our actions to pick up where our words had left off, when Damon's feet stopped moving.

"We're here."

There was a specific reason we were here, one that was just as important to Damon as it was to me and it was the only reason I was able to contain my grunt of disproval.

The hand covering my eyes remained in place, but the other slid from around my waist when Damon asked, "Can I trust you not to peek for two seconds?"

"You're just going to leave me here by myself?" I asked with an amused smile curling my lips. "I don't even know where we are."

"I need both of my hands for two seconds. That's it," he replied through a chuckle at my dramatics.

"Fine then, but I'm counting," I offered smugly, the smile still intact. "After two seconds, I get to open my eyes."

The warmth supplied by the contact of his hand left my face instantly, taking my smile with it.

With my lids still locked shut as promised, I started, "One Mississippi," as my ears picked up the sound of clanking metal.

"Two Miss…" was as far as I got before Damon's hand reclaimed its position over my eyes. His other slid against my back again, directing me forward when my pumps landed on something that sounded like wooden baseboards.

A musty smelled permeated my nostrils and a damp chill swirled over my skin when Damon's hand fell from my face. "Open your eyes," he directed.

Light slowly crept through my parting lids to reveal a building shitty enough to alleviate all of my previous arousal. The place was easy to recognize as an old Italian restaurant from my childhood, one that hadn't been touched in clearly over a decade. Walls were made entirely of steel-grey stone, windows were boarded up with plywood sheets, floors were constructed by moldy boards and a few random dusty, half broken tables were scattered throughout the establishment. The only decent thing the place had going for it was the fact that the roof was still intact.

"Damon," I stated hesitantly, taking slow steady steps throughout the room. With my luck and the state of the floorboards, the possibility of falling through was pretty damn high. 'Why are we here?"

Damon's eyes swept the contents of the crumbling interior. The confident smile gracing his lips was a clear indication his eyes apparently saw something I couldn't. "There's only one question you've ever asked me that I couldn't give you an answer to."

"Yeah, the beer tasting and why we were doing it," I supplied impatiently, eager to get to the reason we were there.

His sky blue irises, so drastic and refreshing in contrast against the murky confines of the building, settled onto mine. The smile was still intact when his hands lifted into the air and he declared, "Well, this is my answer."

"This?" I questioned incredulously as my hands pointed spastically around the room. "This is your answer?" I chose to completely disregard the fact that Damon had also referred to this place earlier as defining for his future because my mind couldn't exactly accept that portion just yet.

He ignored my obvious dislike of our surroundings and countered enthusiastically, "Yes, I put in an offer on it yesterday." He then started making his way through the room, leaving me standing in the center shell shocked, as he stressed, "Don't you see the potential?"

My arms crossed over my chest as I wavered between confusion and blatant judgment. Damon hardly struck me as the guy who made poor decisions, quite the opposite actually, but apparently I'd been misled in my assumptions. As of right now, he was acting like a total idiot; an adorable one with that giddy excitement flowing through his movements and bright red apron swaying against his legs, but an idiot nonetheless.

"The only thing I see potential for is asbestos exposure," I chided.

But he didn't seem disheartened by my negativity. Instead he shook his head and chuckled at my statement. "You have absolutely no faith in my abilities."

"It's not that, it's just…" I started before cutting off. It was obvious this old restaurant was important to Damon and I had no intention of destroying whatever image he had in his mind regarding the place, but I needed to hit him with some sort of reality. "Well look at this place."

"Yeah," he agreed with a slight shrug of his shoulders, the only motion that exposed he shared some of my opinion. But besides that, there was no evidence as he added with the same motivated smile intact, "The place is a little rough around the edges."

"Damon," I reasoned, "it's practically a few good knocks away from collapsing."

"You're being a bit dramatic," he retorted with a quick deflecting shake of the head. He then gave me a crooked smile that had fireworks erupting in my tummy as he stepped forward. His hand extended to feather the line of my jaw before his head cocked to the side and he coaxed, "Not everything's perfect at first glance. Sometimes it takes a little work to discover something's true potential."

Responsively, my head tilted towards the faint touch of his fingertips, reveling in the gentle strokes it supplied. "It's going to take more than a little work to get this thing up and running," I reasoned softly.

"I didn't say it was gonna be easy, Elena," he stressed, lifting his brows slightly so the full force of that electric blue could take effect. "But some things are worth the extra effort," he added with a smirk, his eyes lingering on mine for the longest second before he broke contact and backed away.

As Damon made his way throughout the room, checking various furniture and panels along the way, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd simply been referring to our location. I mean, I hadn't exactly been the easiest to handle at first, but I'd like to hope I was worth the effort. Maybe he had a point after all, but if that was the case, I needed to offer up some constructive thinking points.

"Alright, figuratively speaking, let's say I back your decision," I let out with a huff causing his head to snap back towards my direction. "How the hell are you going to get this place up and running again? And if you do, what's so different about this restaurant than Larry's Italian Bistro down the street?"

At my cooperation, Damon flicked his brows enthusiastically into the air and took quick steps to eliminate the space between us. "I've done carpentry work in the past so I can handle the rebuild, plus Tyler agreed to help me out as long as I gave him a job once it's open. With his help as well as Ric's, I can have this place up and running by fall."

My hands immediately shot into the air, bringing Damon's hasty chatter to a halt. "Ric knows about this?"

"Of course," he answered through knitted brows before immediately catching onto the fact that I was hurt by being the last one filled in on his endeavors. His hand then extended to squeeze my shoulder as he stressed, "But don't get upset that he and Jenna didn't tell you. I asked him not to and the only reason you're just finding out about it now is because I wanted to know for sure if I had the place. I told you before that I wouldn't lie to you when I gave you my answer, even if it wasn't intentional, and now I'm not."

Normally, it would have been easy remaining upset with a guy who'd filled everyone else in on his choices before involving me. But with that earnest blue coasting through Damon's irises and his reasoning behind why he'd held out on my involvement, it was impossible to hold a grudge.

So I relaxed my shoulders, released a musty breath of air, and supplied, "Okay."

He smiled and nodded at my acceptance before jumping straight back into his enthusiastic answer to my questions. "And as far as making this place different from Larry's, well that's easy because it's not going to be a restaurant. I mean, I still want to serve some food, but it's primarily going to be a bar."

"A bar?" I spat out with wild eyes as soon as the word fired from his lips.

He mistook the reason behind my sudden mood shift and reasoned, "The only option we have in town now is Jerry's Pub and, let's be honest, it's not the greatest option."

I could feel Damon's eyes penetrating into my forehead, but mine had drifted towards the floor. A thousand thoughts were shooting through my mind, the most prominent being how fucking ironic this moment had become. It'd already been an uphill battle getting myself to acknowledge Damon's ambition about revamping the building in the first place and support it. But now I had to accept the fact that his dream was opening up a place that served the main inducer behind the moment that had shattered my life, and me, into a thousand tiny pieces.

It hardly seemed like a concept my mind was capable of handling and it was the reason I was only able to get out, "I can't believe you're opening a bar."

"I know, and thanks to you, I'll have a few specialty drinks to serve to really set the place apart from Jerry's," he declared confidently, reaching down to place the tips of his fingers against my chin.

As his eyes connected with my own, Damon's perception had him noticing my discomfort instantly. His brows furrowed and his eyes filled with concern as he inched forward and inquired, "Elena, what's the matter?"

The problem was that Damon was supposed to be my escape from my past, not a constant reminder of it. He was supposed to be my safe haven this summer, my distraction, but how was that supposed to be the case if all I could associate him with now was this bar? Attending one here and there was fine and dandy, it was just a quick escape from reality, but now it was a main aspect of Damon's summer - of his future. It was going to be a defining aspect of his future, as he referred to it before, which now meant it was going to be a main element of my summer as well.

"Nothing," I lied because, despite the havoc corrupting the moment for me, I didn't have the heart to ruin it for Damon. And when he shot me a cynical expression, I encouraged, "Honestly it sounds like you have it all figured out and I love that fact that you're so passionate about what you're doing. I'm happy for you."

"No," he disputed softly, his head motioning back and forth as random strands of midnight hair swished through the air. "Something's wrong, I can see it all over your face."

The unease in his eyes and the concern of his tone, almost had me faltering, but I broke eye contact and lifted my hand to my face. "It's just the dust," I lied. "It's gotten in my eyes."

But he saw right through my weak excuse of a lie. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling it from my face as his opposite hand lifted to cup the curve of my cheek. His irises had darkened a bit, but the fire in them was anything but subtle as he accused, "Are we really back to this?" He shook his head in disbelief and clarified, "Deflection?"

"No, Damon," I started with every intention of sparing him my truth. I knew it wasn't fair to spoil his burst of enthusiastic sunshine by rolling in rainclouds of my past, but I couldn't help but consider it was why we'd come here in the first place. He'd brought me here to make it easier to share my own secrets and be honest with him about who I was. Currently, I didn't know which option was better for either of us, but he'd latched onto my truth, the same way he'd been able to way back at Duke's bonfire and I was powerless against his hold. So I blurted out, "It's just - a bar. Really, your future is running a bar?"

His eyes narrowed, but he was still so close, close enough to see the tiny line of silver rimming his pupils as he remarked, "I'm failing to see the downfall in it that you are."

His tone chilled my insides, coating them in frost instead of his familiar warmth. I loathed the feeling and desperately needed him to understand. "It's not your downfall," I explained, "It's my own personal hellish irony."

"I'm having a rough time keeping up here," he quipped. Apparently my statement had been too cryptic for him to understand.

And with his eyes penetrating into me, latching onto my guilt, heartstrings, conscious and everything else I'd failed to recognize since my parents death, I knew we'd approached the defining moment I'd promised to him. The one I'd denied from everyone, including myself, since that horrifying day. The timing wasn't perfect, it didn't seem fair to ruin the serenity of his moment with the harshness of mine, but it didn't seem fair denying it from him either.

So I took a deep breath, felt the blood rush through my limbs and pulse in my ears, as I started to let go. "Damon, there's a reason I didn't trust you at first and there's a reason you've only ever seen me drunk one time and they both have to do with one thing, one event."

"That is," he urged slightly, picking up on the importance of the moment and leaning further into me.

I inhaled Damon's scent as he did, needing something to keep me going, something reassuring, something that was his. And as the first tear formulated in the corner of my eye and fell over my bottom lid, I admitted, "Alaric told you the story about my parent's death, but what he failed to include was the part where my drunk ex-boyfriend was the one driving the car that smashed into their car."

His lids retracted slightly at my information, baring more soothing blue to ease the frantic pace of my heart. I watched the emotions transition across his features; shock, anger, fright, sympathy, and understanding before he finally found his voice. "So what you're saying is…"

"Yes," I interjected because although Damon was finding it difficult finding his voice during the severity of my truths, I'd finally found mine and couldn't let it drift away. A few more tears fell down my cheeks, not the heavy downpour I'd expected as I explained, "I was dating the guy who killed my parents. I was with him that night and I let him leave knowing he'd had more than he should to drink. And thirty minutes later, I got his phone call telling me what happened."

It'd been the first time I'd relieved myself of the facts. Other than the tears, I hadn't expressed the pain or the trauma it'd brought me afterwards, but I hadn't needed to. Damon already knew the effects since he'd been witnessing them so far this summer and the weight from that emotional strain already felt a bit lighter.

"Elena," Damon offered, empathy streaming from his expression as his thumbs lifted to stroke salty tears from my now flushed cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," I replied with a soft smile. The strain on my cheeks forced a few more droplets from my eyes only to have them instantly claimed under Damon's flesh. "But I didn't tell you because I want you to feel sorry for me."

"Well, why did you tell me?" he inquired as his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in a way that could be read as either impressed or skeptical. I couldn't differentiate, but something had me leaning towards impressed.

"Because I didn't want you thinking my reason for hating this dream of yours had anything to do with you or my faith in you," I answered, doing my best to keep my trembling hands steady against my sides. "I think this place will be great after you're done."

"And because I owed you the truth," I admitted, because I owed him that too; I owed him every bit of truth I was able to offer, even if it was difficult. "You've been honest with me about everything and you deserved to know me in return." I then took a step back, enough for him to see all of me and not just my eyes. His hands slipped from my face and down to the sides of my shoulders as I added, "Not this guarded chick that I've been projecting all summer, the one that's a result of another guy's actions, but the real me."

The unprotected, bare me whose breathing was coming out in in rushed blasts of air. The one who was freaking out a bit underneath of the surface because she'd finally cracked the doors open to her past and wasn't sure she was entirely ready to face everything that followed. But Damon's eyes were a lustrous hue of blue as an effect of my confessions and it was the only reassurance I needed to keep them pouring from my lips.

"And also because you've been where I am. You said it yourself that you hated certain things, certain people for the longest time, but the guy I met this summer… he doesn't act like someone still holding onto hate. He knows who he is, what he wants, and he's not afraid to go after it. Otherwise we wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be standing in this place with you."

I finally paused to take a long, deep breath, fully aware of my heart frantically pounding in my chest. Damon studied my face as I did, apparently waiting for more words to escape or my features to change.

Neither happened. Relief didn't seep into my system, only anxiety was present because I'd unloaded my truths onto him. And not in a subtle way either. I'd just tossed them all in his direction and he wasn't saying a goddamn thing in response.

Instead his eyes drifted throughout the room, apparently formulating his thoughts and the moment seemed to stretch into oblivion. Then his eyes finally settled back onto mine. Traces of understanding contrasted with the arcs of confusion on his expression when he asked, "So you want me to help you learn how to forgive him?"

"No," I disputed with a soft shake of my head. "I don't want to forgive him and I don't know if I ever can. All I know is that I don't want my past or Stefan's actions directing my future anymore."

At that, the arcs of his expression transitioned into smile lines. "Elena, if you want my help, I'd be glad to offer it. But the fact that you're telling me this - already shows you're capable of doing that on your own."

I wasn't confident in my capabilities like Damon seemed to be; hell my entire body was still shaking just because I'd been honest for once. But he had a way of speaking phrases with such certainty that it was impossible to believe anything else. So I shrugged, causing his hands to slide against the bare skin of my shoulders, and said, "Maybe. I'd just rather have you there."

His head cocked to the side at the delivery of my last line. I hadn't realized how needy it sounded until it had already escaped, but found I was only halfway terrified by the thought of relying on someone other than strictly myself for once. I mean, I'd agreed to open myself and my heart up fully this summer. And I seemed to be doing just that. So why was I still shaking?

Damon's fingers swept along the curve of my neck and settled along my jawline. The liquid in my bloodstream seemed to hum under the contact as he whipped his brows into the air and challenged, "Even if that means spending time in this old place?"

I had to admit, the idea of spending my summer in this death trap didn't exactly sound like the most enticing of options, but I'd be here with Damon. And he'd be helping me. It was only fair I helped him in return.

So I rolled my eyes playfully and shook my head just slightly enough to keep his fingers from slipping off; I needed them to keep from spiraling towards the floor in a full blown anxiety attack. "Yeah, even then."

Then my lips inched forward to press against his, finally feeling the physical connection I'd been craving after my emotional release. Problem was, once I got the first taste I was eager to reach the same release with my body. But as my kisses became rougher to indicate where we were headed, Damon's pulled back and broke our fusion.

His brows dipped towards his nose as he asked incredulously, "Here? Now?"

"Absolutely," I breathed out shooting down to unite my lips with the smooth skin of his neck, the previously terrifying surroundings no longer a blip on my radar. All I wanted was him; all I needed at the moment was him.

But he captured the sides of face in the palms of his hands and held me in place. His eyes had already darkened, signifying he was right there with me when he commented, "Elena, we're eventually going to have to talk about your past you know?"

"I know," I replied, my eyes pleading as I added, "But we can start tomorrow. Right now I just need this."

And he understood exactly what I meant. I needed the physical because it was comfortable. I'd entered into unchartered territories with him already tonight. My issues had been revealed and now he knew the reasons behind why I behaved the way I did. I was exposed, raw and no longer in complete control over what happened next.

But for the following moments I could regain my sense of control. I'd still be linking to him with the same heavy exposed heart, but in a way that felt most comfortable; one where I could still reach my release.

And when he sighed and brought his lips back against mine, I breathed out my own sigh of relief knowing we'd drifted back into familiar territory. The sigh was replaced by a moan as his fingers raked the sides of my waist, digging the red fabric into the skin and igniting heat from the friction. My body pressed flush against his, following his footsteps, as Damon led us towards an old chair in the room.

His lips broke contact when he whipped it from under the table and took a quick seat. He threw the bright apron over his head and onto the ground and then twined his fingers around my wrist, pulling me into his lap. As I lowered onto him, throwing a leg over each side, his nails ran along my silky stockings and pushed my fluttering dress towards the apex of my thigh.

Tingles instantly shot up my spine, but it wasn't from the contact of his fingers edging towards their desired location. It had everything to with the intense lock of his eyes with my own. It hadn't been the first time we'd held each other's gaze during the act, far from it actually, but this time it felt more powerful; unsettlingly powerful.

So I laced my arm around his neck and pulled his lips back against mine, replacing the connection with one more familiar, and teased, "Tyler's gonna kill you when he finds out you took that apron off."

"It'll be our little secret," he mused before slipping his tongue between my teeth to glide along my own.

One of my hands slid down Damon's chest, undoing each button of his shirt as I did, when the tips of his fingers finally slipped above the stocking and over one of the garter's belt straps. As my hand finally landed on the toned pectoral muscles under his shirt, he smirked against my mouth and purred, "I thought the stockings were good enough, but it seems you've outdone yourself."

I shivered at the pleasure in his words while his fingertips played with the strap and whispered against his lips, "You haven't even gotten to the best part. Keep going."

A low growl came from the back of his throat as his lips pressed more harshly against mine. And as one of Damon's hands relocated to the small of my back, pulling me to feel the effects of my attire, his other inched closer to my anticipating heat. My core was throbbing when his index finger slipped between my bare folds, forcing a moan from the contact and the smirk on his lips to grow wider.

"God, I love it when you make that sound," he conceded through wet kisses, trailing his way down my jawline and settling on the sweet spot of my neck. Whimpers escaped my parted lips as his warm tongue left scorch marks along my skin and his index finger dipped into my heated entrance.

Embracing the pleasure he was providing, I slid his button-down over his shoulders to reveal his torso and laced my arm around his back for support. As he worked wonders on my insides, my hips rocked against his finger and my nails dug into the flesh of his back. And when my body settled into a steady rhythm and my breathing began to accelerate, Damon removed his finger.

I hissed at the act, only to have Damon grab onto the hem of my dress and rip it over my head. At the sight of my chosen lingerie, his lids retracted and a territorial savageness darkened his eyes. With his hand no longer acting as a barrier, his shaft pressed against my sensitive entrance through the confinement of his jeans, sending more liquid lust spilling from my core.

I swayed my hips back and forth, desperate for more contact in the spot I was craving it most as Damon's hands slid up the creamy skin of my waist and onto the contrasting black, opaque lace covering my breasts. He seemed to be in a trance, one hand massaged the left while a thumb flicked over the pebbled bud of the right.

But when another pleasure-filled moan escaped from my lips and broke the silence, Damon's eyes shot up to meet mine. They were even darker than before, his face serious and carnal when he demanded, "I need to be inside you. Now!"

I nodded approvingly; it was the most I could accomplish with his hands on me the way they were and his bulge grinding beneath my thighs. He had a condom ripped from his pocket and his erection freed within the blink of an eye, which still felt entirely too long. And when I lowered myself just far enough to feel his head play with my entrance, I gathered every bit of strength I had to hold off.

My body hovered in the air, the miniscule amount of contact teasing my heightened state just as much as it teased Damon's, before his hands latched on to white knuckle my hips and he slammed me onto his lap. I released the familiar gasp at the sensation of him filling me and felt my muscles clench around his member.

No time was wasted before he started rocking me back and forth, the friction of our union spreading through my veins and igniting passion. My lips devoured his with harsh, rough kisses and my arms pulled his chest flush against mine. I wanted to feel him everywhere, not just in the heat rushing under my skin, but on every inch of my surface as well.

His fingers gripped onto my waist, pulling me back before plunging back in; somehow reaching deeper and deeper each time. Every thrust had air gushing from my lungs and another undecipherable sound escaping through my teeth and against Damon's. And when he slid his hand along my spin and settled on my back, I arched backwards against his touch, allowing him to hit that premium spot.

It only took three more strokes before the second release, the one I'd been craving to counterbalance my first, finally came. My eyes rolled back in my head, my toes curled inward and my body convulsed in his hold. My muscles tightened, griping around his length, and after a few more pumps, Damon reached his own release.

When my body settled into a satisfied humming state, I let my head fall onto his shoulder so my breathing could regulate. His hand traced soothing circles against the glistening skin of my back as our chests expanded and detracted in unison. Slowly our surroundings came back into focus and I allowed my eyes to drift around its contents. I still couldn't see the potential Damon saw in the place, but couldn't allow myself to doubt his judgment.

He'd chosen me, after all.

And with one last deeply satisfying breath of musty air, I lifted my chin from his shoulder and pulled back. My eyes linger around the room one last time before I finally brought them back to settle on the cerulean blue of Damon's. The connection I'd feared from before was still there, but in his post-sex, euphoric state, the intensity of his gaze had dulled enough to no longer feel unnerving.

My body relaxed further at the soothing image, a smile slipped up my lips, and I questioned, "Are you sure this is something you want to take on?"

His hand extended to swipe a few strands of wet hair from my forehead as he chuckled softly. "I'm already too far invested to back out now."

"You can always back out," I countered. "I mean, this place needs a lot of work."

"I know I can, but I won't," he replied with a dejected shake of his head. His hand settled onto the nape of my neck, offering the perfect amount of support, when he leaned forward and ensured, "Because I'm pretty sure it's gonna be worth the effort."

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