Breathless (122 page)

“When was the last time you had something to eat?”

I watched her think about my question. “Um, well I was painting for most of the afternoon, so I guess the last thing I ate was that bowl of cereal during the late morning.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I guess I lost track of time and didn’t realize it.”

“Well, we’ll need to fix that. What do you want to eat?”

She looked at me quizzically.

“Don’t worry. That was not an attempt to try to hit on you,” I teased. “We can call in an order somewhere while we wait for Roger.”

“Shouldn’t you be working?” I could hear the skepticism in her voice.

“It’s Sunday. It’s usually a slow night. Plus, I’m the boss. I can get someone else to fill in,” I reassured her. I had opened Damian’s less than a year ago, and it was my baby. It was one of the few things I cared about. So I’d never put my need for ass before my bar obligations before. But today, I decided to make an exception for Alexis. Because for some reason, I had a feeling there was something more than just ass I wanted from her.

“I’m not that hungry,” she said unconvincingly.

“Oh, come on. We both know that’s not true.”

As if in agreement, her stomach rumbled again.

I laughed. “We’re ordering food. My treat, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“I—” she began.

“Uh-uh.” I shook my head and placed my finger on her lips to silence her.

I felt a surge of desire and warmth at the contact. Her lips were silky soft and supple, and my eyes zoned in on them. She looked up at me and I knew she felt something too. I fought back a nearly uncontrollable impulse to grab her, pull her into me, and kiss her like my life depended on it.

She broke the electricity-filled silence by attempting to say something. I moved my finger from her lips and watched her wet them with her tongue. I inhaled slowly as I watched her tongue intently, wishing it were my tongue on those lips.

“Okay,” She nodded and smiled. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

“Okay,” I repeated and felt like there was some sort of unspoken conversation we were having. I hid the indescribable delight her simple words had brought me. As much as I wanted to resist it, there was something about her that gripped me and refused to let go. It was a feeling I couldn’t seem to shake off. I wanted to know this girl, and for once in my life, I didn’t mean just sex. She was someone I wanted to be closer to, someone I wanted to make more exceptions for, someone I wanted more than a Sunday fuck session from. She was like some sort of highly addicting and intoxicating drug—the longer I was around her, the stronger her pull was. The longer I was around her, the more I wanted to be the one who caused that tiny dimple to appear above her lips when she smiled.

Fuck. What am I getting myself into?

CHAPTER FIVE

Alexis

I WATCHED AS HE BRUSHED HIS fingers through his dark, chestnut brown locks. Each strand fell back to its lightly tousled position, and I was overcome with a nearly uncontrollable urge to run my fingers through them.

He saw me watch him and gave me a dazzling smile. His piercing blue eyes drilled into me, and I felt a shiver trickle down my body. He looked breathtakingly handsome, and it took almost all my willpower to not get lost in his presence.

“I can’t believe you’ve never had sushi before.” Damian took out the three sushi containers from the plastic bag.

I blinked and snapped out of my thoughts. There was a look on his face that I couldn’t quite understand. I could tell he was studying me, almost like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

I shrugged. “Need I remind you that I’m from Iowa?”

“Touché.” He chuckled.

“To be fair though,” I continued, “there are sushi restaurants in Iowa, and those I know who have tried it seem to really like it. But up until recently, I was never someone who was that adventurous,” I admitted.

“Oh?” He gave me a sideways look and raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.” A devious smile curled his lips.

I laughed and shook my head. As cocky as he was, there was something about Damian that I found extremely compelling—something more than his deep, blue smoldering eyes, his beautifully sculpted face, and his perfectly sun-kissed and muscular body, which were all already more than compelling enough.

But there was something more. I found myself comfortable, relaxed, and happy around him. I felt like I could be myself, which surprised me with this gorgeous stranger who was completely out of my league.

“Well, up until two days ago, I had lived my entire life in a city called Cedar Rapids. By California standards, it’s probably more of a town than a city, but in Iowa, it’s actually one of the bigger cities.”

“So what made you decide to make the big move, you daredevil you?” he teased as he gently nudged my shoulder with his hand. His touch on my skin set off an instant spark that ignited my body, causing a rush of blood to my face.

“That’s for me to know and you to”—I paused and then laughed—“
not
know.”

Damian chuckled and shook his head. “You fucking tease.”

I shrugged and laughed.

In the short time I had known Damian, I knew that I had a weakness for him—I knew that I liked him more than I should. There was a playful flirtatiousness about this man that was enduring, almost sweet—not at all creepy or off-putting. The fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous probably didn’t hurt either.

But I also knew the type of guy Damian was. He was cocky. He was unbelievably hot, and girls threw themselves—along with their panties—at him. He was used to the attention and getting whatever and
whomever
he wanted. So I had no intentions of stroking his ego—it was big enough without my help.

It had been about half an hour after Damian had ordered the sushi from a place down the street, and we found ourselves sitting on the hardwood floor in my empty living room. Right before the food arrived, Roger had showed up and unlocked my door. I had thanked him profusely, joking that I wouldn’t be locking myself out on a weekly basis. As Roger left, Damian had come up the stairs with the sushi that had just arrived and I had suggested we eat it at my place.

“I guess we could have eaten at your place,” I said with a laugh as we sat on the hard floor and ate from the sushi containers that were also on the floor. The smell of fresh paint still lingered in the air.

He also laughed. “Right, but as you put it, you didn’t want any funny business,” he reminded me, echoing my previous words.

“Well, with you, you just can’t be too careful,” I teased back. I looked over at him and he flashed me a heart-stopping smile. I felt my insides melt with delight. It almost felt like some drunk, delirious feeling had consumed my entire body, except this felt much, much better.

I eyed him, studying his face.
God, he is the most gorgeous man I’ve never seen, and I can’t believe he is sitting here, on the floor of my studio apartment, introducing me to sushi for the first time.
I marveled at how amazing this turn of events was. Who would have thought that a girl like me, whose heart had been broken by the loss of both of her parents at age thirteen and then again just ten years later from being cheated on by her long-term boyfriend of four years, would be this happy by just sitting here with
him?

I caught myself hoping for something more from him, but the second I realized what I was hoping for, I stopped myself.
He’s told you he’s only looking for a good time. You’ll just get hurt if you want more from him.

“So how do you like it?” he asked as he motioned towards the California Roll on my fork.

“It’s pretty good,” I admitted. “Who knew raw fish could taste this good?”

He shook his head and chuckled to himself.

“What?” I asked defensively. I didn’t like to be laughed at, and I wasn’t going to let Damian get away with laughing at me just because he was jaw-dropping hot.

“Well, there’s actually no raw fish in a California Roll. It’s kind of a basic starter roll for those who are trying out sushi for the first time.”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks flush.

“It’s cool. I made the same mistake when I first started eating sushi,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Here, try this one.” He used his chopsticks to grab a piece of sushi from one of the other containers.

“What is it?” I tried my best to not show my hesitation.

“It’s a spicy tuna roll. It’s really good.” He held the spicy tuna in front of me.

I glanced at it skeptically and then at Damian, who looked back at me encouragingly.
Shit, I’m about to eat raw fish for a man I barely know. That can’t be good.

I opened my mouth and he fed me with his chopsticks, our eyes locking onto one another. I felt the electric tension between us grow.
Fuck, is it just me or is eating sushi pretty fucking hot?

“Mmm, this is really good. Huh! Not bad at all,” I said after I swallowed the piece of sushi, and to my surprise, I was telling the truth.

Damian snickered. “You sound like I was feeding you worms or something.”

“Well, I was expecting something slimy, so close enough.” We both broke into a fit of laughter.

As the laughter died down, there was a split second of awkward silence, and I looked away from him, unable to withstand gazing into his intense, rich blue eyes any longer. The second of silence seemed to drag on, and I could heard the pounding of my heartbeat against my chest.
Can he hear that?

“You know, you should really learn how to eat sushi with chopsticks,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

I let out of sigh of relief and then laughed. “I think my fork has worked well for me,” I challenged.

“Oh, come on. I thought you were more adventurous now. Try it with chopsticks like how they’re intended to be eaten.”

I looked at him with reluctance, and he gave me another dazzling smile.

“For me?” he pleaded.

I gave an exaggerated eye roll to show that I wasn’t impressed or affected by his charm. But in reality, I found it beyond difficult to say no to him.

“Fine,” I said, sounding exasperated, “I’ll take one for the team.”

And for the next half hour, Damian showed me how to eat sushi with chopsticks and watched as I painstakingly ate the rest of the sushi without the use of my fork or hands.

“Thanks for that last thirty minutes of entertainment,” he teased as he watched me pick up the pieces of rice and sushi bits that had inevitably fallen onto the floor on their way to my mouth.

I made a face. “I didn’t realize that I’d be working for my dinner.”

He laughed as he got up to throw the sushi containers in the trash bin in the kitchen. On his way back from the kitchen, he walked past my dresser that stood next to my bed and picked up the lone photo frame I had on the dresser.

“Is this you? And your mom?” He looked up from the photo and then at me.

“Yeah, it’s me and my mom.” I smiled at the memory behind that photo. “It was my first time in front of the pottery wheel and my mom was teaching me how to center the clay that day,” I closed my eyes and tried to remember as much detail as I could from that moment.

“She’s pretty. You both are.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and I opened my eyes and met his. His rich blue eyes were soft and warm, and at that moment, it wasn’t the same Damian I had seen at the stairs or the same Damian I had seen at the bar. At that moment, I saw a different side of him that I had never expected would exist.
Can he really have room for feelings inside him?

“Thanks. She was,” I said softly. I quickly looked away to hide the moisture that appeared in my eyes.

“Oh. Sorry. I…I didn’t mean to…” His voice trailed off, and for the first time since I’d met him, he seemed uncomfortable.

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t know,” I reassured him.

“When did she pass away?” he asked.

I looked up at him, and from the look on his face, I knew he was genuinely interested in knowing more about her. Most people asked me the same question when they found out, but rarely did they actually want to know. They only asked because they thought it was the right thing to ask, because they didn’t want to seem insensitive, or because they wanted to end the awkward silence that usually occurred after they inadvertently found out about her passing. But Damian’s expression was different—it seemed honest and sincere.

“My parents passed away in a car accident when I was thirteen. That was ten years ago.” I walked over to Damian. He handed me the photo, and I looked at it. “My mom was a pottery instructor. Actually, she went to U.C. Berkeley, and then after graduation, she moved to San Francisco and started teaching ceramics here.”

“That’s amazing. How did she end up in Iowa?” Damian studied me. He still seemed a little uncomfortable. It was almost like he was worried that I would break down and cry in front of him.

I looked up at him and gazed into his rich blue eyes. They were no longer the piercing blue eyes I couldn’t stare at for too long for fear of getting lost in them. They were now warm, forgiving, and soothing, and I realized how comfortable I was with him—comfortable enough to tell this stranger about my parents.

“My dad’s from Iowa. He was on an annual company convention here in San Francisco, and for one of the company’s team development events, there was a wine and clay event at the pottery studio where my mom taught. My mom was one of the instructors that night, and according to my dad, it was love at first sight. My mom said that she only agreed to have dinner with my dad the next day because she took pity in him. Apparently, he was such a disaster on the wheel that he got more wet clay on his clothes and face than on his finished product.” I laughed at the story because my parents always laughed and teased each other when they told it. Tears began to well up in my eyes. “They were amazing together, and their love was infectious. Everyone who saw them together knew that they belonged together. And when I think back to all the distant memories I have of them, their love for one another was one of my most poignant of those memories.”

“They sound like they were great parents,” he said softly.