A/N: Happy New Year. Happy reading!

"You're questioning if this connection you feel you have with a stranger outweighs what you have with Tyler?"

Hearing my therapist say that aloud made me pull up short. It made me think of times I self-sabotaged, refused help which threw my life out of whack and how long it took to climb out of rabbit holes as a result. Lust was easy. Love was hard. The former could be confused with the latter and vice versa. I usually knew where I stood with people, what I needed from them, but I wasn't always capable of cutting them off. Sometimes I took what I could get and called it luck. Tyler loved me and I loved him. Our relationship wasn't empty, but why could I not stop thinking about Damon Salvatore?

"We settle sometimes, like you've told me, and I just want to be sure that's not what I'm doing."

"Are you and Tyler still practicing BDSM?" Camille was uncertain if she were using the right terminology, but mustered on, "Is it an ongoing part of your intimacy? I know you said he was your submissive…but do you…"

"Blow the dust of it every now and again?" I supplied. "No. He hasn't been my sub for six and a half months."

"There were others before Tyler?"

"Yes."

"Only with male partners?"

"There were three subs before Tyler, one was a woman. Those relationships weren't very long. I was involved with two at the same time. They each wanted monogamy. I wasn't looking to settle down. Would you like to know how I got my start as a dom?"

Mutely, Camille nodded.

I sat down, rubbed the palms of my hand on my knees, licked my lips. My nerves settled, spine straightened and I crossed one leg over the other. Cami visibly relaxed as I relaxed. Exerting control over someone didn't always entail raising your voice or making threats. It could entail body language, having a particular air about you that seduced others to concede. A look, a touch, you.

"It started—no I was introduced to the BDSM world my senior year in college. There was a club, The Bathhouse was the name. A friend worked there and invited me out. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The things I saw…I was terrified, aroused, confused. But I was intrigued.

"So on my twenty-first birthday I threw my own BDSM party. I didn't want the usual, girls in lingerie, guys in suits. I told my male friends if they wanted to attend then they needed to don silk boxers or the most see-through tighty whities they could find," I chuckled softly. "Bare chests, no pants, no socks, no shoes. Us ladies we wore the suits and ties that night.

"I had a flogging expert from the club come. Mistress Donna Francesca. She brought her submissive with her, and showed us the different techniques and tools she used on his ass daily. Since it was my birthday, Mistress Francesca offered her sub to me. Said I could fuck him. I balked because I had never had a one night stand with a stranger, but she laughed and said no, he wouldn't be the one doing the penetrating. I'd penetrate him. Fuck him with a strap-on. My brain kind of short circuited. I couldn't go there, not on the first night.

"The names she called him, the more he was degraded the harder he got. She flogged him, and fucked him and as she did so…she laughed at how I didn't think he was good enough to have his ass taken by me. It was wild. A week had passed, a month and I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Why did this appeal to you, Bonnie?" Camille asked after I paused for a minute.

That was a question I asked myself numerous times but there was no cut and dry answer. Was I a reluctant daddy's girl scared into never having sex as not to disappoint him? Had I been abused, seen or suffered some trauma? Had I watched my mother being dominated and subconsciously vowed not to end up like her? Or was I just kinky?

"I—"

Perhaps it was divine intervention or something less deific, but raised voices caught mine and Camille's ear, broke the moment. She turned just as the door to her office burst open and a white man with the reddest lips I had ever seen stood panting as if he ran a marathon to get here. Camille rose, blindly placing her tablet and stylus on her chair.

"I must speak with you," the man said, blue eyes stapled to my therapist taking no notice I was in the room.

Camille's assistant Davina came bouncing up behind the man, looking stricken, apologetic, and furious. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I told Mr. Mikaelson," she glared at the back of his head and I'm positive if she had something sharp she would have stabbed him with it, "you were with another client but he ignored…"

"Camille," Mr. Mikaelson railroaded Davina. "It's imperative I speak with you at once, and I'm not leaving until I do."

"Klaus…I'm in the middle of a session. You can't be here right now," she herded him out of her office.

"I'm calling security," Davina promised and was the last thing I heard before the door was closed.

Five minutes passed, then another five before Camille popped back into the office. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair looked a little less coiffed, a little wild.

"I'm so sorry, Bonnie. That's never happened before."

"Everything all right?"

Camille nodded jerkily and poured a glass of water, drank the whole thing seemingly without breathing. Once she was finished I could tell she was contemplating drinking another glass, or pulling out a bottle of something stronger. She sat the glass down on the carafe, composed herself, and retook her seat.

There was only fifteen minutes left in my session. If I started speaking more than likely what I had to say would go in one ear and out the other. Camille was preoccupied, thinking of her imprudent client. What the hell was his deal? I had said enough for the day anyways. One of the big bones in my closet was out. How'd we proceed from here I'd leave that to Camille.

I left her office with more apologies and a free thirty minute session redeemable whenever I saw fit. With no distraction or other recourse available I headed to my office.

Rental property—fuck everything in Canada was expensive, and I wish I could say I found the space for Themyscira Films at a steal, which would be lying. We were barely scraping by per month so most of my employees telecommunicated, and that help cut down on the need for offices and expenses. The low gray brick building was a little under 3,000 square feet hovering right on the city's east side. Security was top priority. We had the essentials that thankfully were all paid for, the editing and sound equipment included. That was why the need of investors was so important.

Yet there was no better rush than pulling into the lot of my dream, parking in my reserved spot.

I was swamped before I could even get both feet through the door. "Let the madness begin," I muttered under my breath, turning to my assistant who was ready to rattle off how long my day was going to be.

Anna Zhu, quirky, intelligent, and nosey as fuck. She was fresh out of college and recommended to me by her mother who was a fellow entrepreneur. Anna had been my right hand for the last year and things were working out. However I knew she wouldn't want to remain an assistant for much longer. Anyways, she blocked my path.

"Dietrich needs you in Maryland."

"I was just in Maryland," I groused.

"I know and he needs you again. It's an emergency. The words law and suit were used. Some people, the locals are getting in their feelings and smelling themselves because of the election in the US. I've booked you on the six o'clock."

I face palmed myself and sighed loudly. "I can't go to Maryland. I have that…"

"I rescheduled," Anna handed me the itinerary.

My brows rose, "Well, I guess I'm going to Maryland. And here I thought I was the boss around here."

Anna patted my shoulder and headed back to her cube located outside of my office.

I wasn't feeling so much like a dom at the moment.

I did the best I could by flying to meet with Dietrich, Sheldon the director and Lia the executive producer of Themyscira Films' latest documentary about black women during the Victorian Era. The permit issue was never resolved so we ended up moving production to my sleepy hometown of Mystic Falls, Virginia to film two pivotal scenes. I had mixed feelings about that. I made sure not to tell my parents I was home, and anytime I had to leave the B&B I left in a disguise. Shockingly I made it the entire week without being spotted by anyone I had gone to high school with who never managed to escape the clutches of this antiquated town. Light-headedness, headaches, and fitful nights of sleep plagued me the entire time I was home, and I didn't start to feel normal until I was in the air, streaking across the skies to British Columbia.

Life was there to welcome we back with complications.

"Are you back?"

"Yeah just walked through the door of my apartment," struggled to get inside would be more accurate since I was rolling my suitcase, fighting with my carry on and purse while holding my cell.

M started screaming and I jerked the phone away from my ear. That wasn't a scream of fear but of unbridled happiness.

"Great! You'll never believe what happened since you've been gone. Okay guess."

I fumbled with my keys. After the second try got the key in the lock, fell inside of my home. "M, I'm exhausted. Can you just tell me?"

"Oh, all right. When I came to your place to pick up Sphinx I ran into Damon Salvatore!"

And M was officially screaming again. I, on the other hand, wasn't. Wasn't even cracking a smile because something uncomfortable coiled through my guts. The floor tilted beneath me. I found my way, clumsily, to the couch in my dark apartment.

"We talked for a minute," M was saying, "and I swear it was the best minute of my life. Can you believe how blue his eyes are? Unreal! And he's much nicer than I thought he'd be. Such a gentleman."

I imagined M was fanning herself.

"Yes, I'm fanning myself," she giggled. "Anyways, you'll never believe what he asked me next. I'm still having a hard time believing it and I was there. Ha. Ready? He asked me out on a date!"

What. The. Hell.

"You said yes," I managed to say through a mysteriously dry throat.

"Of course I said yes, you silly goose. Former professional hockey player who looks like a god in man form? Hell yeah I said yes. I'm stoked but…"

"What?"

"This is a pretty big deal. Stuff like this doesn't happen to me. Guys who look like him don't go for girls who look like me."

"Stop calling yourself a girl. You're a woman. Own it."

M sighed nearly dismissively. "What if I bore him or do or say something embarrassing? I'll never live that down and I'll never be able to go on another date again. And I know what you're going to say…that I'm being overdramatic and psyching myself out. I'm not, B. I'm just being realistic. For once."

I knew I was going to regret this.

"What do you need?" I asked.

"Well…" she hedged. "I finally pestered him enough to tell me what we're doing. He races so he's taking me to a track on a friend's property that's about half an hour outside of the city. I was hoping maybe…you might want to tag along. Please."

"M," I deadpanned.

"I know, I know. But Damon did say if I had any friends who were into racing they could come. He'd just have to know names to tell his friend. So…be my wingwoman. I'll love you forever."

"You already do."

"I'll keep Sphinx for another week," she bargained.

"I miss my baby."

"Ah, I miss you, too."

"I didn't mean you."

M laughed. "Please, Bonnie. I'm sure he won't mind if you come. You two are neighbors after all."

I rubbed my forehead. We were neighbors all right yet I vibed he had been testing me for something I no longer partook in. Not to sound conceited or anything, but this had the appearance of an awfully convenient scam to use my friend as an excuse to get to me. Damon saw me with M at the bar when I declined giving him my number. Since then I've drank with him, spent the night with him (platonically), had him down on his knees before me practically admitting he enjoyed being there. He had ordered me to order him to stop wanting me. This was so fucked up. What was he playing at?

"I don't want to impose on your first date since breaking up with Xander," I rose from the couch and went to the kitchen. I frowned at the contents of my refrigerator and made a note to go shopping immediately.

"You wouldn't be. I'm really scared, not that anything bad would happen but that Damon will probably see my lack of confidence and be turned off. With you there, I know I'll be fine."

I couldn't do this. I couldn't. But you know what happens when you tell yourself to stay away from something.

M got her way.

I exited my apartment an hour later, freshly showered and looking as dowdy as I could make myself. I certainly didn't want Damon to think I put in any kind of effort for him. Since he was being so generous with his invite I called up a friend of my own to tag along because there was no way I was going to be a third wheel on my besties magical night.

I slid into the passenger seat of Greta Martin's coup.

I could say a lot about my good friend Greta Martin. Other than being the epitome of grace and elegance with a down-to-earth bohemian flare, she was daring, book and street smart. Greta held nothing back, believed in grabbing life by the horns and riding it for all it was worth. She had a discerning eye for fashion, and could pick apart a person's entire background and history based on their footwear alone.

A trait which came in handy. She was a junior associate at a law firm.

Most thought we were sisters when they saw us together. We did have the same caramel complexion, but her eyes were dark brown, and she was leaner in build.

"Ready?" she asked.

"I nodded. I got the address. Let's go."

Greta also said the first thing to pop into her head. "If this guy ends up looking like a shoe from Payless, I'm grabbing M and we're leaving."

I popped her on the arm. "Be nice. And trust me…he doesn't look like a shoe from Payless."

"Un-hun."

Whatever Damon's motives were, if he hurt M I would personally collect his balls. If my suspicions were correct he'd probably happily offer them up.

The coarse smell of smoke, the roar of engines revving and tires squealing against asphalt, ear shattering music was sensory overload. Adrenaline crashed with serotonin and made my heart palpitate.

There was an amalgam of cars from classic to foreign marvels with custom paint jobs and chrome shining under the moon and stadium lighting. If you told me I was standing on the set of the latest Fast & the Furious movie I would have believed you. To my wonderful surprise there were quite a few ladies proudly showcasing their whips and driving capabilities, participating in the races retrofitting the stereotype this was a man's sport and that women weren't good drivers.

Greta and I meandered after parking an entire lot away from the festivities. I was constantly texting M for her location which changed every few seconds or so. Greta being slightly taller than me saw her first and lifted a hand to get her attention.

M was in an extremely short black leather pleated skirt, a halter top and a motorcycle jacket. Clunky heels boosted her four inches off the ground, and her curls were perfectly tousled. She looked beautiful.

"Bonnie, you made it!" she hugged me tightly.

"You know I couldn't leave you hanging," I squeezed her back. "You look sexy as hell."

M laughed.

My stomach somersaulted. Damon climbed out of a black Pontiac GTO. Our eyes met.

"Greta," M moved on to hug her leaving me wide open for Mr. Former Hockey Player's assessment.

He closed the driver's side door of his American muscle, rounded the trunk, and leaned against it for a second. I told myself to look away but I was stuck. His long legs were encased in black jeans; a thin dark gray T-shirt barely covered his waistline, and his leather jacket—left open certainly concealed nothing.

My narrowed eyes let him know his subterfuge wasn't appreciated. Damon gave nothing away.

M bounced to his side and drew him closer. She was beaming, glowing, and I blinked a few times to get my head on straight. I wish I could say it was bizarre seeing them together but it wasn't. What was bizarre was that damnable flare of envy within myself.

"Damon, you already know Bonnie but the vixen beside her is Greta Martin. Greta I'd like you to meet Damon Salvatore, yes the Damon Salvatore."

Greta and Damon traded niceties. I'm sure if I looked hard enough I'd see that my dear friend's cheeks were darkening by the second. Greta knew next to nothing about hockey so she didn't catch on to why M would add "the" in front of his name. It didn't matter either way. Look at the man.

"Bonnie," Damon addressed me, holding out his hand.

I shook it and let go but not too quickly as that would have drawn attention and raised some eyebrows. Damon smirked, barely.

We were joined by two others. Both men, one of them was Stefan who showed his longer than natural incisors when he saw me, but he must have remembered something as he turned his attention to Greta after saying hello to me, and began chatting her up. The other guy who was shorter than the Salvatore brothers, had shoulder length blond hair and a beard. He introduced himself as Aiden.

M sidled beside me, affectionately bumping her shoulder into mine. "How was Maryland?"

"Fine," was my monosyllabic response.

"And the fiancé? Missing Tyler yet?" M batted her brown doe-eyes.

"Give me a few days and I'll probably be a crying mess."

M threw her head back laughing, "Yeah, right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Must have been my hard tone that had M looking flustered and horrified. "I didn't mean anything by it, Bon. Truly. I know you love Tyler, but…" she visibly clamped her lips together.

"But?"

She shrugged and stared down at her feet, "Sometimes…okay don't get mad," she lifted her head, meeting my gaze. "Sometimes you just come off indifferent to Tyler. But we don't need to talk about this now. We're here to have fun."

M promptly scurried away to Damon. I observed them for a moment. M's brightness to Damon's darkness. She was Tinkerbell to his fallen angel. The cliché of the good girl taming the resident bad boy. Though in all fairness my knowledge of Damon was skeletal thin at best, circumstantial at worst. He probably wasn't bad but he was sneaky, deceptive if he was using M to get to me. If. Maybe he did like her.

Then why are his eyes always coming back to you?

"Come on, Bon, let's look around," Greta suggested and I was only too happy to follow.

Time was on torque. Races happened so fast you could hardly distinguish one winner from the next. I made a few bets unwilling to place more than twenty on a particular driver. I wasn't strapped for cash but shrewd when it came to investments. So far I was eighty bucks richer.

Greta had gone off with Stefan as he pointed out some of the finer details on his tricked out Charger. M was speaking with a female racer by the name of Gloria, which left me…and Damon.

I stood off to the side happily munching on my corndog. He encroached on my territory, planting himself right in front me. I hiked a brow.

"Can I have a bite?" he eyed my food then me.

"Go ask your date. She's eating a corndog just like I am." And while you're at it, mind explaining why you asked my friend out? Naturally I kept that question on lockdown.

Damon was amused. "How're you liking things so far?"

I shrugged and took another bite. "It's interesting. And loud!"

"I have some noise cancelling headphones if you'd like to borrow them."

That was a sweet offer but M should be the one to profit from it. "That's okay but thanks. I'll deal."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I shouted.

Low-budget Thor called Damon's name and told him it was his turn to enter the track.

"Am I your favorite to win?"

"No," I replied and waved him off.

Damon placed a hand over his heart as he began to pedal backwards to his idling vehicle. "Guess I'm going to have to make you lose some money," he winked.

Almost as an afterthought Damon jogged to M and from the looks of it asked if she wanted to ride shotgun. By way her eyes lit up and the color that flooded her cheeks she was thrilled.

Damon cast one final glance my way before folding his lean body behind the wheel. He revved the engine and his taillights grew smaller as he drove slowly to the start line. Greta rejoined me.

He lost.

"What was that you said about me losing money?" I wasted nary a second to rub his face in his loss once he drove back to his pit.

Damon scowled.

M was too euphoric to be sad on Damon's behalf he got spanked.

She danced to my side and used me to try to balance herself. "Ohmygod, Bon you have got to go out there. I thought I was going to die, but it was the best fucking feeling in the world. The speed, the adrenaline! Damon, on your next run, take her."

"M," I chided.

"Sure, if she's not scared."

"I'm not scared of anything. I'm simply not interested."

"I'm riding with Stefan," Greta informed.

Traitor.

"See," M voiced triumphantly, "everyone is getting a chance to see what it's like. I know you don't want to be left out."

I could really care less about being left out. It was the fact of the matter M wanted me to get into a car with the guy who asked her out on a date; a guy who I had encounters with that would normally lead to several places, a bedroom being one of those places. She didn't know and if I told her, M would start singing an entirely different tune.

But now was not the time for me to blow up her spot.

"Fine," I gave in. "I'll ride shotgun but after that Greta and I have to go. We're hungry."

"We are?" Greta said. I poked her with my elbow. "Right, we're famished."

"If you want," Damon interjected, "we can all go and get some grub afterward."

"No, that's okay," I shot that down. "I'm sure M can't wait to have you all to herself at some point tonight."

M brightened at that whereas Damon…he suddenly had to check his phone, answering it knowing he wouldn't be able to hear jackshit because of the noise.

"Greta!" Stefan yelled and then waved her over. It was his turn to race.

M, Damon and I shuffled to the designated area to watch. With Damon standing in between us, occasionally leaning down to hear M, I stood close enough that anytime he moved it felt like a part of him brushed against me. I could give that the benefit of the doubt because the mob was so deep we were all compressed like sardines in a can, yet I wasn't naïve enough to believe every small touch or contact wasn't deliberate.

Unlike his brother, Stefan won his race.

"It won't be long now," Damon reminded me of our agreement. "Are you ready?"

I craned my neck toward him. "As I'll ever be."

"Say that with more cheer and I'll actually believe you."

Not a chance.

"We're up. Milady," he mocked a bow to which I rolled my eyes yet proceeded in front of him.

M grabbed Damon before we could leave the pit. She yanked him down, planted a kiss on his cheek. "Good luck!"

For his second race Damon removed his leather jacket. "This time I'm doing the loop instead of the strip. I need more dexterity and it's kind of hard to do with that on," he explained.

Damon's car was sex or used to have sex on. The inside was custom everything. Leather floor mats, dials and switches, odometer and speedometer that emitted a low violet light. Seats that came with a four-point harness that Damon adjusted for me. He worked deftly and quietly, flicking his gaze to me every few seconds as he secured me in.

"That okay?" he pulled on the shoulder straps.

I couldn't budge. "It's fine."

He strapped himself in after doing his last minute engine check. His muscles rolled and flexed beneath his skin as he slid the straps of the harness over his shoulders. After waiting ten minutes for the last race to finish up, he was given the go-ahead to get into positon. Finally his hand was on the gear shift. We were moving.

Damon was racing against three other drivers. They lined up one next to each other. I jumped when he took my hand and kissed my knuckles.

"For luck," he said and then a veil dropped over his face. He was no longer in the car with me but possibly seeing his every move on the track.

The green flag was waved. It was go time.

My entire body was slammed into the seat and jettisoned from one speed to the next. It was like a Lenny Kravitz song.

Damon popped the clutch and changed gears, arm straight and locked, death grip on the wheel. He had the look of someone who would fist fight fire to get to the finish line first. It was terrifying and exhilarating to travel this fast over pavement, and a few times I had to close my eyes when another driver got within an inch of us. Damon was a methodical driver, not pressed to take the lead and maintain it for the entire race. He let the other drivers battle it out as they played chicken with one another. He had no time for games and it would be hell on his tires anyway.

By the final turn we were in second place.

Lips pulled back to his teeth, the tendon on the side of his neck protruded, and I'm sure the pedal was all the way to the floor. When I saw the speed I nearly fainted, but I stared straight ahead almost willing us to go faster without the car exploding or flipping over if it was so much as tapped. My nails dug into the seat.

He passed the car that had been spending far too much time trying to block us from edging into first place.

Damon hit the clutch, engine screaming. "Gotdammit!"

We were over the finish line and the GTO fishtailed a little as Damon applied the brake. It took forever for us to stop and when we did the both of us was breathing hard.

We looked at one another, shocked, and then we were smiling like idiots. Damon released the wheel. We clipped off our harness seatbelts. He reached for my hand again. Only, he pulled me across the console as if he were going to kiss me, but he froze once realizing what he had done. And we were stuck like that. Leaned in far too close.

"What do you want?" he rasped.

"What do you want?"

"Tell me what…"

In seconds the car was surrounded by people cheering and screaming startling the both of us. We shot apart. Just that quickly I forgot…yep he was a hockey star. Of course his win would be celebrated with enthusiasm. But I needed to get away from him.

"Wait," Damon stopped me from climbing out.

I spared him a single glance that said more than it should have and got out of the car.

M was safely tucked away at home as she fulfilled my request to text to let me know she made it okay. I didn't want to push my luck or expose myself by questioning if she were alone. If Damon kissed her. None of that was my business, which I was positive she'd share the first chance she got.

Regardless of what my intentions were I waited for him outside of his penthouse. We needed to talk.

The elevator binged and he stepped out scratching the nape of his neck. Damon stopped abruptly at seeing me. He didn't ask what I was doing here nor did he look smug as if he expected me to be loitering outside of his door at close to two in the morning. I was well aware of how this looked, but really I was here to issue a warning.

He closed the distance between us coming to stand right in front of me. I could smell faint traces of M's perfume on him suggesting they hugged at the very least.

"What are you trying to do?" I folded my arms, straightened my stance.

"What do you mean?"

"With my friend."

A corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile and immediately flattened. Damon moved closer and for some reason my leg came up and my heel pressed into his stomach. It was muscle memory from my past. A past in which I spent a great deal of time issuing discipline. He groaned softly but didn't purposely lean his weight into me.

"Jealous?" he lifted a skeptical brow.

"No."

"Yeah right."

I wouldn't engage in this back and forth. "She's a beautiful person. If you're truly interested in her then by all means, do you. But if you're using her I will gut you like a fish."

"What would I be using her for, Bonnie?" he spoke in a dulcet tone. "To get your attention? I think it's safe to say I already have it."

My lips pursed. "She's my friend, Damon. I won't let you hurt or use her."

"I'm sure some part of you thinks you're doing your friend a great service, maybe you are, but I can't help but wonder."

"Wonder all you like. I've said what I came here to say," with my foot still on his stomach I nudged him the hell away. He skidded back a few steps. His jaw flexed, eyes bulged a little.

Maybe he would take my warning seriously and think about what he was doing with M, or he wouldn't. Only time would—

I was grabbed and pushed into the opposite wall. Hair in my face, hands on his leather clad biceps I stare slack jawed at Damon who fell flush against me. His stomach and thighs smothered mine. His cock pressed right in that juncture where my thigh and hip connected, not completely hard but getting there. My pulse raced.

Damon let go of my shoulders and placed his palms flat on the wall, bracketing my head.

"Would you like a demonstration of how I ended my date with your friend? And it wasn't a date so much as it was an outing."

"What it means to you doesn't mean the same to M."

"I didn't lead her on."

"Are you sure?"

Damon shrugged. "People are going to read into what you do based on their perception. Doesn't make it the truth."

Ugh, he was being logical.

"You knew how it would look," I countered.

"And how does it look? That I'd do anything to get a few minutes of your time?"

"You have," I muttered.

"Yet you haven't seemed to mind. Did I read you wrong? Bonnie."

Why did his voice have to sound like syrup and chocolate being poured on a bare cunt? Shit, my nipples were hardening.

"Did I read you wrong?" he pressed.

"Just…I," I hated he had me flustered.

A flash of teeth and Damon said, "I'll tell you what happened. I walked her to her front door and told her I had a good time. I did. Though I may have omitted which part I actually enjoyed."

I squinted but remained quiet.

Damon brushed a lock of hair off my forehead and tucked it behind my ear. His touch was like an ice cube over a burn. Damon's head tilted down and once again he was staring at me searchingly.

"But I think I'll keep that part to myself. I gave her a hug, said I'd call her later, and that was the end of it."

"Good to know," I fidgeted.

"So you see, I understand the perils of leading someone on. My question to you is…why haven't you pushed me away? I know you feel that I'm hard."

Caught but he wouldn't see me sweat.

I angled my head, "So it's my fault you can't control your dick?"

"I think of it as a compliment to you."

"And I think it's an insult to my friend you asked to go out with."

I could hear each breath Damon took and it occurred me to I could hear myself breathing as well. At some point things changed from throwing our gravitas around to this.

His jaw hardened and he stepped away from me. "I can't control a lot of things when it comes to you."

I stepped closer to him, "Try harder."

"Is that what you really want me to do?"

"Yes," I hissed.

Damon stared at me curiously, eyes roaming which annoyed and excited me. "Question, where's your ring, Bonnie?"

My brows furrowed. I looked down at my left hand. My bare left hand. Shit. Where was my ring?

When I looked up he was farther away now. Almost at his door. Damon unlocked the gate of his fortress, hovered under the threshold with the invitation clear as day.

"We can keep this going or we can end it," Damon kicked his door open wider. "One of us has to take that step."

I thought of M, how hurt she'd be if she were watching this, the same for Tyler, and my mind rudely conjured an image of Damon waiting for me naked lying in bed. Cuffed to it. That wasn't the worst of it. The throb between my legs was such it was almost painful, and I knew then I had to get away.

"Want to know something about me, Damon? I don't give in and I don't share. Interpret that however you like. Goodnight."

"It's morning," he corrected, non-arrogantly.

"So it is," I made my way to the elevator.

Later on that same morning I got a phone call from Tyler.

"Bunny…good news. I'm coming home."

I should be happy. I was happy. My ringless finger said otherwise.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think. This may be my last update for any of my stories for a while. Just wanted to let you guys know. I'm really, really burnt out. Nevertheless, once again thank you so much for reading. XOXO.