He's trapped me in his sights.
Waiting to consume me.
He wants to awaken the darkness inside me.
Possess it and own me.
Damon West is bad news.
He might appear charming on the outside.
But that's only a mask he wears to hide the true predator inside...
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If anyone were to watch this scene from the outside looking in, they'd think it's complete madness.
Booming music is so loud you can hear it down the street; people drink from red Solo cups on the front lawn. There must be the whole of HES here this time.
Holy shit.
Damon holds my hand as we walk toward the entrance. There's something utterly masculine about him. It must be how his red T-shirt strains over his muscles or his bulging thighs striding through the crowd.
Of course, the crowd parts for him. He's their king, after all.
The entrance is as grand as I remember it. The vast, high ceiling holds the most immense crystal chandelier I've ever seen. In the center, a grand, sweeping staircase ascends to the upper floors. Artwork from different cultures frame the walls; it's beautiful.
The playboy himself is in the lounge room, flirting with a group of girls competing for his attention. I shake my head and release a laugh. He's a typical quarterback—a womanizer.
"We can go right now, Princess. Just say the word."
"You're insatiable," I laugh.
"For you, yes."
We had already spent the afternoon between his sheets practicing the whole damn Kama Sutra. Not that I'm complaining. It just took longer to get ready and out the door. Once he saw me in my dress, he nearly bent me back over the bed.
I'm wearing a sparkly red dress that falls to my mid-thigh. The back is backless, and a pendant chain runs through the middle. It's sexy, and I may have worn it to get a reaction from Damon. And a reaction I got. He hasn't kept his hands off me.
"Let's get a drink and dance," I announce, tugging his hand so he follows me outside.
People are dancing in front of the pool, grinding on each other to the beat of the music. A rush zaps through me. I love dancing. The thought of dancing with Damon pressed against me reminds me of the time in the club. Yes, I need more of that.
First, a drink.
Drinking might not be the best idea. Considering I fell far down that rabbit hole. But the itch for one more has been crawling on my skin. I'm not drinking to forget my pain anymore; I'm drinking to let loose. It's different.
Keep telling yourself that.
Damon lets me drag him toward the makeshift bar when he stops me and says, "Are you sure you want to drink, Princess?"
"I'll just have a few."
"hmm."
He pours a vodka, then passes it to me, pouring whiskey on the rocks for himself. The vibe here is precisely what I need. I don't know if I have put my demons to rest or if I have been escaping them differently. It doesn't matter as long as I'm not drowning in my head.
