His to Love (His #3)

Chapter 40

I've terribly wanted the week to go by completely unproblematic. I was looking forward to Rory's birthday party on Saturday and I think she still doesn't have any idea what my brother has planned for her. 

But God has other things planned for me. Or that would be the devil. But by now, I think they're both working together. 

On Thursday evening, I plan to go out with the girls. I've texted them and told them about Damien. And the situation with Aaron. I'm just in a terrible need of a drink and a good and long conversation to let it all out. 

I want to apply a lipstick to my lips when there's a knock at my door. I groan to myself, but then I think it might be Rory. Or Aaron. And I think I need to have a conversation with him. That conversation. 

I put the lipstick down and walk to the door, barefoot, already dressed up. The sight that greets me when I open the door almost makes me fall down to my knees. 

Damien fucking Knox. Right here, in flesh before my eyes.

My heart instantly flips inside of my chest and I feel my stomach painfully clench. I feel a lump in my throat, a lump so big it suffocates me. 

He's standing there in his power suit, a bit wrinkled, his tie loose around his neck, but Damien Knox is wearing a deviously charming smile on his attractive face.

I drink him in and he does the same with me. He hasn't changed much. His hair is just a bit shorter now and his face has hardened features, but his playful turquoise eyes - the colour that still haunts me to this day - remained the same.

He's also kept his athletic form. The fucker looks amazing. He reminds me of a devil dressed in a suit, coming to haunt me again and coming to destroy my life yet again.

"Brooke Campbell," Damien fucks my name with his wicked tongue, caressing it with his low voice.

I wasn't prepared to hear him speak. I can only gape at him. I'm lost. Confused. Hurt. And I'm there again, three years ago, when I first saw him and wanted to marry him on the spot. I'm there when we went out the first time. When he made me come with his fingers in a full restaurant. When I posed for him and fucked him after. His drunken visit to me. 

All his sweet words, all his longing looks that turned me on, all his touches, kisses - everything about him; I'm there again.

And him leaving. Me being devastated. Completely wrecked. 

And then I come back here. Him coming back like nothing changed. Like he didn't leave three years ago. He's standing at my door like it would be any other day. The memories are so bright it almost feels like he never left, that it was all just a dream, and he's actually standing at my door a day after his drunken visit. 

"What the fuck?" I say when I find my words. My voice is faint, thick with disbelief. My heart is pounding my chest, my insides are all tied in knots, making me want to open up my skin and get some relief. My skin is burning, prickling. I'm shivering and it's not from the cold. 

It's his look. The look that's haunting me in my sleep. That hot stare of his. The one where he gives me his whole attention where his eyes never leave my face. 

"You don't remember me anymore, moro?" he asks, his voice dropping at the last word. He says it sensually, like it was made only for me. 

I close my eyes as the tears prickle the corners of my eyes. This bastard. This bloody bastard. I'm gripping the door with my hand, wanting to slam it at his face and erase that smirk off his face. How dare he come here all happy and charming after three years of completely forgetting about my existence?!