“On whether you’re helping me or not.”
He should say no. In fact, that’s what his glare should tell her so.
Sydney was trouble with a capital T and Damien didn’t need to be lusting after some young little thing like her that wanted lessons. He opened his mouth, thinking of saying; Have a good life, Sydney, it’ll probably be an okay one as long as you don’t look me up again, but instead he heard his own voice say, “Meet me at my apartment building at eight.”
six
Naturally, he lived in the most expensive building in the city, at the very top floor.
Sydney could have almost filed her nails in the elevator, the ride took so long.
Damien opened the door in a white dress shirt, and dark slacks. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned—and even with the merest glimpse of his tan skin, it felt like she’d just seen something indecent, her senses kicked into overdrive so bad.
“Hi,” she said, her smile trembling.
She didn’t know why she was so disappointed that Damien looked less than thrilled to see her, just shrugging and letting her pass.
She hated to admit this, but she’d actually been aflutter at the thought of seeing him again and asking for his help just once more. He was incredibly good with all these sexual things, and if she could get over the fact that she was truly enjoying learning from him, she could actually receive something good from the man, for once in her life.
Of course she hadn’t rushed to do his bidding about her hair, which might account to his less-than-welcome stare. Which was far better than the look he’d given her before she left his office, when he’d admitted her red hair had looked lovely on her and had surprisingly awakened a ton of butterflies in her stomach. Did he really think her hair had looked damned lovely on her? Then why had he called her Fire Head, damn him.
“All right, so what’s the problem?” he asked, not even inviting her to seat over at the spacious living room behind him, a place which already appeared crowded with artifacts from his travels.
“We need something more, Damien,” she began, searching his face as she wondered what had gone wrong with Court this morning. “I kissed him, or at least tried to, and he did not respond the way I liked.”
His eyes shuttered, heavy lidded, unreadable, as he took a step forward and almost backed her into the door. “Did you brush your lips against his?”
“Yes.”
“Did you lick yours first?”
“Yes. I licked his bottom lip, then the top.”
He dropped his head to gaze down at the floor while his chest expanded on a quick inhale. Then his head shot back up, he tugged on his tie and yanked it off, looking supremely frustrated.
“We need something more effective,” Sydney pressed.
“The guy you’re lusting after needs to pull his head out of his fucking vagina. If he doesn’t then nothing you do will work.”
“I’m not lusting after him. I love him!” I am lusting after you, she thought confusedly.
She honestly didn’t understand how that could be. She loved Court, knew him from head to toe, but her thoughts had been consumed by Damien. When she kissed Court she had imagined it was Damien. What was wrong with her? She needed Court to react soon before she started getting really confused about everything.
“What if I caressed him,” she began, taking a step forward. “You know…there.”
“Be specific.”
“In his,” she signaled at his sable black pants.
His eyes were dark. So dark. She’d never seen a night this black. “You want to touch his cock.”
His voice sent a pleasant shiver up her arms. “Uh, yes.”
“All right. Let’s see you touch it.”
She sucked in a surprised breath, watching him, feeling like she’d been offered to go out to Africa
and pet a wild lion.