Sophia
Damien gives me his address. At ten, I pull into his driveway. I don't know what I expect his lake house to look like, but if I had to guess, it would be large and grand.
This is neither. The view of the lake is spectacular, but the two-story brick house looks cozy and welcoming. Large planters flank the front door. The windows are thrown open, Reggaeton spills out and hang on. Is Damien singing along?
I love it.
He must hear me pull in because he opens the door before I knock. He’s wearing faded jeans and a gray T-shirt that looks like it's been through the wash dozens of times. He looks good enough to eat. Hunger grips me. I want to pull down those jeans and wrap my lips around his cock. Right here, in the doorway.
How would he react? Would he be horrified? Or would heat flare in those dark eyes? Would his fingers tighten in my hair, would he tug me closer? Would he thrust down my throat and cum in my mouth, or would he erupt over my breasts and make me lick up the mess?
Where the hell did that come from?
I stopped on the way for coffee. Damien’s eyebrows rise as I hand him a cup. “Should I be suspicious that you're being nice to me, Sophia?”
“You said you didn't really wake up before two cups of coffee. We’re handling power tools today, aren’t we? I figured it would be safer this way.”
His lips quirk. “Thank you. I’d invite you inside, but we should go. Julian is wielding heavy machinery on less than three hours of sleep. Someone should probably keep an eye on him.” He steps out and shuts the door. “Do you want to ride with me or follow along in your car?”
The sensible answer would be to follow him. That way, I’m not riding along with Damien. Damien Cardenas exudes sex appeal. Always has. The last time we’d been in the enclosed space, I’d been mad at him, and even so, I’d been only too aware of him. Now, when I’m a mix of confusion, regret, and horniness? Damien is my kryptonite.
And I’ve never been able to resist. “I’ll ride with you.”
If he’s surprised by my answer, he doesn't show it. “Let's go.”
Julian’s house is huge.It’s not as large as Xavier’s castle, but there are turrets and rolling lawns, for heaven’s sake. My mouth falls open as we pull up to the front. “This is where Julian lives?”
Damien turns off the engine. “Let me guess, you’ve driven past this place dozens of times, but you thought it was abandoned.”
“Pretty much, yes.” This place doesn’t seem to be Julian’s style. Then again, what do I know? The night we were together, we didn’t exactly discuss our architectural preferences. We had hot, raw, passionate sex. “It’s just Julian here? This is a lot of house for one person.”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Are you asking if Julian is single? The answer is yes.”
My cheeks heat. I was probing, true, but I thought I was subtle about it. Damien saw right through me. “Julian's father died last year and left the family home to him.” He grimaces. “Julian hates this house.”
“Why?”
“The short version is that Julian's parents weren't the nicest people. His plan was to fix it up and sell it, but he just hasn’t had any time to work on the place. His father left things in quite a mess, and Julian has spent much of the last eight months juggling his work, his father's estate, and basic maintenance.”
Ouch. Poor Julian. I’ve been there. Simon, Andre, and I worked on our house every spare moment we got, making it into a warm and welcoming home. There had been three of us, and Simon was a professional, but it had still been exhausting.
“You said on the phone that Julian was running behind. Does he have a buyer? Is that why there’s a deadline?”
“No, Julian’s sister Hannah wants to get married here. It’s a Christmas wedding.”
I open my mouth to tell him that that’s just four months away, but it’s not as if he doesn’t know that. “Has Julian thought about hiring a contractor?” I assume he can afford it, but maybe I’m wrong.
“Trust me, he’s tried. Finding a contractor in Highfield seems impossible. Julian tells me he’s left messages for fifteen different contractors in the last week. Only two have called him back.”
Yikes. I wonder if Simon was one of them. I have to get my brother to check his messages.
“Anyway,” Damien says, opening his door. “The wedding is in the greenhouse, so that’s what we’re working on. Shall we?”
Julian opens the front door,a harried expression on his face. “Thank fuck you’re here,” he says. “I’m still drying the place out. Stupid freak storm.” Then he catches sight of me, and surprise flashes over his face. “Sophia, what are you doing here?” He winces. “Ouch, that sounded rude. Let me rephrase that.”
I have to laugh. “I’m not offended. I’m teaching Damien how to be a better person, remember?”
“And that involves pulling up tile?” he asks dryly. “Tough class. Come on in.”