Tate's heart did a fierce, sudden skip when she saw Damien's face. How could a human being be this handsome? He was absolutely breathtaking, and in that instant, she knew the intense feelings she had been fighting for him had grown undeniably stronger.
"I didn't mean to come to your room," she stammered, flustered. "I was just looking for water and—"
He cut her off, pulling her into a fierce hug that caught her completely by surprise. "I missed you," he muttered into her hair. She tried to pull away, but he simply held her tighter, not letting her move until she finally relaxed into the embrace. They held each other for what seemed like twenty minutes.
Tate finally broke the hug. Damien's eyes raked over her, taking in her outfit from top to bottom. "You look hot," he declared, a genuine compliment in his voice.
Flustered, Tate tried to slip past him, but he stepped in front of the door, his hand resting on the lock. "Hold on," he said, a familiar, cocky smile returning. "You're not going anywhere " He gently closed the door.
His expression grew serious. "Where did you go with Allen? Do you know how worried I was calling your phone and you wouldn't pick up?"
"I'm sorry for worrying you," Tate replied quickly. "I already explained to Martha. He just wanted to talk somewhere private. You would have known if you'd come earlier. You told Martha you were coming, but then you disappeared."
Damien's smile softened. "So you missed me and wanted me to come?"
Tate refused to meet his eyes. "No. What gave you that idea?"
He moved closer to her. "Are you sure? Because it looked like you were a little annoyed." He dropped his voice, sounding sincere. "I apologize for not coming immediately. I had to run to one of my dad's restaurants to sort out an issue, but I rushed back as soon as I could. When I arrived, Martha told me you had already come into the house."
"Oh," Tate whispered, not knowing what else to say. She was alone with Damien, enclosed in the room, and his intoxicating scent made her feel hot. The air itself seemed to be getting thicker around them.
"Do you forgive me, Tate?" he asked.
Tate's gaze was glued to his lips. He kept moving closer, his intent obvious, and she felt completely trapped—though a part of her no longer wanted to escape.
"Am I forgiven?" he asked again. This time, his breath was right against hers.
He kissed her.
It was slow and consuming, his breath mingling with hers. His hand traced a path up her thigh, a bold but careful touch. All of a sudden, he lifted her and placed her on his sturdy reading desk.
She was startled, but the kiss didn't break. He parted her legs to stand intimately between them, and the kiss became hungry. She felt the heat rising and tried to move back slightly, but he gripped her hips and dragged her back, closing the space between them. The kissing was hot and steamy.
He moved from kissing her lips to kissing and gently sucking on her ear. A soft moan escaped her. He moved to her neck and sucked the skin there. Lost in the sensation, she didn't realize when she unconsciously grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it off him. He smiled, a dark, pleased expression, and held her tighter, returning to her neck. His hand found her breast, unhooked her bra, and the feel of his mouth on her nipple made her go crazy. She had never known she could create sounds like that—soft whimpers lost beneath the loud music blaring in the background as Damien did things to her she never imagined doing.
When the fever pitch broke, Damien moved back to her lips and kissed her gently.
He whispered to her, his voice rough with control, "I should stop now, Tate. I don't want to lose control."
Tate's head felt dizzy. She had never known she could experience pleasure like that. She didn't know what to say.
She simply nodded.