Restore Me (8 page)

I’m on a mission. I want to drop my bags at the
door and find Damon, to tell him I’m home and see how he’s doing.
But I need to focus on one thing at a time. I don’t look for him at
all, focusing on getting my groceries to the kitchen and dinner
started, like a proper, supportive girlfriend.

I make it past the foyer and into the kitchen
before I see him. He’s standing in front of the open refrigerator,
bare back to me. My fucking mouth waters just looking at him. His
jeans hang just low enough to allow me a peek at his boxer briefs.
I walk further into the kitchen and set the bags down on the
countertop. Damon slams the fridge and turns to face me. The
expression on his face is one I’ve never seen before now. He’s
fucking pissed and I feel a little intimidated.

“Where were you?” he demands.

He may be all kinds of angry, but his voice is
music to my ears. I stand here like a statue just reveling in the
sound of his voice.

“Uh…I-um…”

“‘Um’ isn’t an answer, Josephine.”

“You’re pissed at
me
?” I ask
incredulously. I can feel the tension in my neck twist painfully
tight as I narrow my eyes on him.

He begins to walk to where I’m standing beside
the kitchen island. “I don’t like getting smartass text messages
from you when I’m concerned about where you are.” His voice is calm
and smooth, but it makes him all the more intimidating.

The Damon that stands before me is a stranger.
He’s just so different. His eyes aren’t warm and loving like they
used to be. Even his voice sounds different.

“Technically the text was to Brian. If you
wanted to know where I was, you should’ve contacted me yourself,
and not used a go-between.”

He closes the space between us. The heat
radiating off his chest is close enough to feel. I’m intimidated
but I want to gather him up in my arms and tell him that everything
is going to be okay, too. “Don’t test me,” he warns.

Something tells me I should listen, but fuck
that. I’ve never been one to just sit down and shut up. If he wants
to know where I’m at when I’m out, then he needs to stop acting
like someone pissed in his cereal. With this kind of cold shoulder,
I’m not sure he even wants me around. Everything is up in the air
anyway. We haven’t dealt with anything, much less the subject of me
leaving him. I want to make things work. I hope he feels the same.
Right now it’s really difficult to tell.

“You act like you hate me,” I say. “This is the
first time you’ve spoken to me and it’s to reprimand me?! If you
don’t want me here, I can call Brian to come hang out with you and
I can go back to Captain’s house.” I break eye contact with him and
do my best to look a whole lot braver on the outside than I feel on
the inside. I’d give my next breath right about now just to hear
three words from his gorgeous mouth.

He grips my hips and turns me to face the
counter. His hot, bare chest is pressed against my back while his
hips hold mine immobile against the island. Fuck, it feels amazing.
One hand snakes up my hip, glides up my rib cage, over the curve of
my breast, and comes to a stop at my cheek. He firmly grips my jaw
as he leans further forward into me. His lips brush against the rim
of my ear as he speaks. “Haven’t you done enough leaving,
Josephine?”

His rhetorical question is like a damn stake
through my heart. It shreds me on the spot. The breath is knocked
from my lungs. The heat between my legs is extinguished and my
heart sinks. I close my eyes and take the verbal blow on the chin
like a woman.

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” I
reiterate in a frail voice.

“Why don’t you let me decide if you should leave
this time?” He releases me and I turn to see he’s walking away, no
doubt headed to his fucking office.

“Damon! Please!” I cry anxiously.

He stops in his tracks but makes no move to turn
and face me. Grams said I’d find a way and she’s right. Female
persuasion is a powerful thing and I know he feels the same way I
feel when our bodies touch. I will my feet to move. I can do this.
He can’t refuse or deny what we have. We love each other. I’ll
bring him back to me.

I step into his personal space and lift my hands
to his shoulder blades. I press my palms to his muscular back. His
head falls forward and his chest fully inflates as he draws in a
deep breath. It’s the reassuring sign that I need from him. My
tongue darts from my mouth and makes a pass over my lips. I lean
forward and drop one chaste kiss in the middle of his back.

“Baby, please,” I croon. “Talk to me!”

He whirls around to face me, taking me by
surprise. “What do you want from me?!”

“I-I just want you to talk to me. I want to make
sure we’re on the same page as far as
we
are concerned,” I
sputter out, looking to him for the words I need to hear.

“Josephine, we aren’t on the same page.
Actually, I don’t even think we’re in the same book.” The way he
says it is exhaustive, like I’m irritating him or something. It
cuts me like a white-hot knife. “I’m not myself; I’m out of control
and I don’t know how to come back.” He runs those big hands through
his disheveled hair and the expression on his handsome face is one
of hopelessness. I know the look well.

I step closer to him and reach for his hand.
“Before you walked into my life, I felt the floor crumbling beneath
my feet. Then you showed up and I had something to hold onto. Let
me do the same for you. At least let me try. Please.”

“I’m bad news for you. I can’t give you what you
deserve,” he confesses.

I shake my head. I refuse to believe that he’s
bad news. Even if he were, I’d want all the bad news I could get my
hands on. “No, you aren’t. Let me help you.”

“No. You—” He drops his head and scrunches up
his brows.

“Let me help you,” I repeat. I place my hand on
his cheek and make small stokes across his cheekbone with my
thumb.

His eyes slip closed under my touch, almost like
Hemingway’s do when I pet his head, and I hear him sigh.

“Tell me how I can help you,” I whisper.

His eyes slide open and his gaze meets mine. He
gives a subtle nod and his eyes go to my mouth. My lips part. My
tongue slips out to moisten my lips.

“Give all of yourself to me.”

My heart speeds in response to his demand. My
chest lifts and falls rapidly.
Did he just say what I think he
did?
I nod and swallow hard. “Okay.”

I’ll give him everything I have to give if
that’s what he needs to come back to himself and to me.

A look of relief washes across his face. “Fuck,”
he pants.

I give an involuntary shiver and his powerful
arms envelope me and pull me to his chest, our bodies crashing
together. I’m lifted from my feet as he cups my ass and cradles me
in his arms. Being in his arms has never felt so good.

“Bed. Now.” His body trembles and his amber eyes
are fierce.

“Yes,” I whisper. I’m not sure if Dr. Versan
would approve this method of therapy, but if this is how Damon
chooses to connect, I can support him.

He sets me to my feet and takes my hand in his,
leading us to the stairs. We ascend hand and hand, not saying a
word. I stop at the foot of the bed and turn to him. He’s so close
to me that I could lean forward just an inch and my mouth would be
on his chest. Our height difference makes my eyes level with his
sternum and for the first time I notice light purplish bruising on
his chest.

“Your chest.” I lift my hands and lightly trace
the bruises with the pads of my fingers.

“CPR hurts,” he answers simply in a monotone
voice.

It’s a reminder that I nearly lost him and that
it’s entirely my fault.

“I’m sorry, Damon. I’m so sorry. I should have
let you explain everythi—”

“Hush. It’s done.”

I nod and back off from the sore subject. I lean
in to kiss his battered sternum but he backs away.

“Take your clothes off.”

His demand takes me by surprise; he has always
undressed me. I shuck off my sandals and unbutton my jean shorts,
never breaking eye contact with my Big Man. The shorts slip down my
legs and pool at my feet. My lacey boyshorts follow. Damon’s gaze
never leaves mine as I reveal myself to him. He feels cold and
indifferent. He has always worshiped my body. Right now, he’s
looking at me like a piece of meat. I don’t care, though. If this
is what he needs and wants, this is what I’ll give him. With one
swift tug, I pull the hem of my cotton tank up over my head and
drop it to the floor. I reach around my back and unclasp my bra.
The straps slip off my shoulders and it joins the rest of my
clothes on the floor. I’m standing in front of him completely
naked, my face burning red.

With one hand he unbuttons his jeans then tugs
them off. I can’t help but to look down at his rigid cock pushing
against the fabric of his boxer briefs. The drop of moisture that
has been deposited on the fabric makes my mouth water. I imagine
running my tongue over the silky soft tip until it jerks and
twitches in pleasure.

“Listen to me,” he demands quietly.

I drag my eyes back to his.
I’m
listening.

“If you tell me that you’ll give yourself to me,
I’ll be taking you completely. I’ll have you in every way a man can
take a woman. I’ll put you on that bed, or anywhere, for that
matter, and I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop. I’ll take
everything you have and then some. You asked me what I need and
this is it. I need you. All of you.”

My mouth hangs open a little and I’m sure I look
shocked as hell. He’s been rough with me before and he’s
blindfolded me and tied me to the bed, but nothing beyond that. It
was all in the name of pleasure and nothing I didn’t agree to. I
should be hesitant, but that’s what a normal woman would do. I feel
myself nodding “yes” before I even register what I’m doing, but it
doesn’t matter. I think I’d say yes to Damon no matter what he
asked me for. I’ve only refused him once and it ended up being the
biggest, most dangerous mistake of my life. Not to mention the love
of my life nearly died. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I
don’t want to deny my Big Man. I’m his for the taking.

“Yes?” Damon arches an incredulous eyebrow, as
if he doesn’t believe I’m willing to submit to his needs and wants,
which is total bullshit. He should know that I’d do anything to
have him back the way he was. It may be completely out of character
for me but damnit, I love him, and I’m willing and able to give
myself over if it means having the old Damon back.

“Yes,” I blurt confidently.

“On the bed,” he orders. I back up until my ass
hits the foot of the bed. I grip the edge and scoot onto the
mattress. I make my way all the way to the pillows with Damon’s
watchful eye on me the entire time.

“Turn onto your stomach.” I give him one last
look before flipping over onto my stomach. He looks like he’s a
million miles away and it breaks my heart seeing him so… closed
off. Zombie Damon is back.

I hear movement from behind me then the bed dips
under his weight. My stomach flutters anxiously as he works his way
up my bare body. A familiar fabric slips over my eyes, rendering me
blind.

Damon secures the blindfold and adjusts my arms.
“Like a V.”

I nod and allow him to manipulate my body into
place. He’s using the same straps that he used before. I remember
them well. With a tug, my left arm stretches out completely against
the mattress. Damon leans across to secure my other arm. He pulls
the strap to take up the slack.

“Legs together.” His voice is soft and smooth
but commanding all the same. His hands guide my legs together. My
thighs touch, making the building ache in my core intolerable. He’s
taking his sweet time tying me up. It’s torture but it’s hot as
hell at the same time. My body craves him and he knows it. He bends
my legs at the knees so that the soles of my feet are skyward. I
feel the same supple but strong strap wrap around my ankles once,
twice, three times to bind my legs together. I can hear him
breathing behind me. My body is humming with anticipation and I can
feel his eyes on me. It makes my legs quiver and butterflies
flutter wildly while I lie here bound, blinded, and wanton.

“On your knees. Keep your chest flat on the
bed.” He grips my hips and lifts my lower body so that I can pull
my knees under me. My ass is perched up in front of him like a
fucking trophy piece and I’m more than glad to give it to him.

“Are you ready, Josephine?” His voice is raspy
and dripping with seduction in a way I haven’t heard before. His
big, warm hands glide over my ass then dig into my hips.

“Mmm,” I purr.

The wide tip of his cock bumps teasingly against
my slick entrance. My eyes flutter behind the blindfold. The tip
breaches past my opening and he takes his sweet ass time, sinking
into me inch by delicious inch. My body takes in his impressive
length like I was made for him. He rolls his hips once, his cock
buried to the hilt. He lets out a guttural groan that has me biting
my lip.
Fuck, that’s sexy.
What’s even sexier is the
knowledge that I’m the one making him groan like that.

His fingers dig harder into my hips as he
completely withdraws from me and then slowly slips back in. I can
feel every bulging vein and ridge as it passes over my sensitized
flesh. He withdraws to just the tip again and pauses there. I moan,
pleading for more. I feel him lean down over me. His defined chest
barely grazes against my back. One of his big hands gathers a
handful of my hair and pulls just enough to make me whimper
breathily. I feel him shake and tremble against me. He’s about to
unleash himself on me and I couldn’t want it any more than I
already do. His moist lips press against my spine tenderly. It’s a
small glimpse of the Damon I know and love. It’s the Damon I want
back. His mouth leaves my back and a fraction of a second passes
before he rears back and unleashes like I thought he would. With
one quick, deep, punishing thrust the air is knocked from my lungs.
I groan and tug at the bonds holding me immobile. Damon’s hands
hold my bottom half steady and centered with his cock as he drives
forward, hard and deep.