But still she knelt there, determination driving her relentlessly. It was no longer about her and her fantasy. If she left, if she walked away, her failure became Damon’s. He didn’t deserve it when he’d only given her what she wanted.
Is this what you want?
It came to her as a whisper, a soft ribbon threading its way through her consciousness. It was a question she couldn’t answer. Or maybe she didn’t want to answer it.
She lost track of time and was startled when the guests began to trickle back into the living room. Damon approached, holding a plate. Without saying anything, he settled into the chair beside her. With a gentle hand, he directed her head until she rested on his lap.
A sigh of contentment, of weariness and relief, expelled from the innermost part of her body.
He fed her, small bites, coaxing them past her lips. Occasionally he stopped to offer her a drink from the glass at his side.
There was a calmness and intimacy to his movements. He didn’t just feed her mechanically. He touched her frequently, short little brushes across her cheek, or he’d smooth a strand of hair from her face. When wine gathered at the corner of her mouth, he wiped it away with his thumb and then licked at the pad.
She closed her eyes as her cheek rested against his leg. He didn’t make any further attempt to feed her more. Instead, he simply stroked her cheek. As he spoke to those around him, his fingers slid into her hair and to her nape where he gently massaged.
She was very nearly asleep when she heard Damon say good-bye. Her eyes opened sluggishly, and Damon carefully pushed her head away as he rose. She wobbled and then steadied herself as she watched him see his friends out.
Soon there was only her and Damon. He stood at the doorway of the living room, staring at her. In that moment, she wished she could read his thoughts, wished they were broadcast on his face, but he was expressionless.
Nervous apprehension fluttered deep in her stomach when she remembered that he’d promised her a private punishment after his guests had left.
She swallowed as he finally made his way over to her. He stopped a short distance away and simply held his hand down to her. She reached up and slid her fingers across his warm palm. He pulled her to her feet and then turned her in the direction of the bedroom.
They walked in silence, her dread growing with each step. The bedroom was dark as they entered, but Damon made no move to turn on the light.
“Do you need to use the bathroom before bed?” he asked, startling the silence with his deep voice.
“No,” she said quietly, not sure he’d see her head if she shook it.
He left her a few feet from the bed and went to pull back the covers. When he was finished, he turned and took her hand. Unsure of what he wanted or what he would do, she let him guide her to the mattress. But then he merely eased her into bed and pulled the covers up over her as her head settled onto the pillow.
Without a word or gesture, he simply turned around and walked out, leaving her there in the dark.
For a long time, she lay there, waiting, expecting. Fatigue settled into her limbs, but she fought the veil of sleep, waiting for Damon to return.
Loneliness ate at her. She wanted him there, even if it meant her punishment. She wanted him to return and settle it so they could go back to the easy companionship they’d enjoyed during the week she’d devoted solely to him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry.
She watched the clock, flinching as each minute passed. After an hour, desolation covered her like a fog. Where was he?
She curled into a ball, gathering the sheets around her in an attempt to comfort the coldness that invaded her. As tired as she was, as much as she fought the urge to sleep, it wasn’t right. He hadn’t bound her. He hadn’t come to bed.
As she huddled there in the dark, alone with longing that nagged insidiously at her, bleak realization came. This was her punishment, and it was worse than the lash of his belt.
CHAPTER 31
Damon sat in the armchair that faced his bed, watching Serena sleep as dawn seeped through the window over his shoulder. He’d slept little, opting to work late into the night. He’d caught a few hours on the couch in his office before coming here so he could be with Serena when she woke.
Her face was turned to him, and he could see the evidence of old tears on her cheeks. The idea that he’d hurt her with his desertion didn’t make him feel better. The punishment was necessary. She was teetering between the two worlds, one of her making and one of her choosing. But it didn’t soothe him to know he’d caused her pain. Her pain was his pain. Her joy was his joy.
He . . . loved her.
He shook his head in denial though there was no one to see it. An intelligent man learned from his mistakes. He’d already loved a woman he couldn’t hold on to, only he hadn’t known it until too late. From the beginning he’d known he couldn’t have Serena, and it should have been easy to keep his emotions separate from their arrangement.
Should have been was just another way of saying he’d fucked up.
He dragged a hand through his hair and tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. What the fuck was he going to do for the next three weeks? Continue living a lie while he gave a little more of himself away in the process?
He lowered his head until he once again found her soft outline nestled in his bed. His bed. His woman. What he wouldn’t give for it to be real.
Three weeks. He could take what she offered or he could have nothing at all. Were three weeks worth having knowing she’d walk away after they were over? She was close to walking now. He’d seen it in her eyes even as he hoped with everything he had that she’d stay.
All or nothing was bullshit. It never worked out that way. Life was all about taking what you could get when you could get it and surviving when it wasn’t enough.
Yeah, he’d take the three weeks, because when it was over, it would be all he’d have of her to hold on to. The memory of when, for a time, she was his.
Serena woke from a drugged sleep, her eyes heavy and swollen. For a moment she simply stared out the window, as she realized that she was still alone in bed. Then her gaze flickered to the chair next to the window, and she blinked when she saw Damon sitting there, angled to the side.
He was asleep.
She threw off the covers and her feet hit the floor as she hurried from the bed. Ignoring the soreness of her muscles and the tingling of her back, she flew across the floor.
She came to a halt in front of him, her hands outstretched to touch him. But she remained still as she simply drank in his appearance.
He looked tired, his hair rumpled and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn at the party the evening before. The same clothes, minus the belt he’d used on her back.
There was a vulnerable look to his face in sleep. An opportunity to see his expression unguarded. Slowly, she sank to her knees between his legs and laid her head against his thigh.
He stirred, and she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. And then she brought his hand to her lips and kept it there.
“Serena,” he whispered.
Though it was hard, and she feared what she’d see in his eyes, she raised her head to meet his gaze. She didn’t like to think of how she appeared, so open and unguarded, her feelings and uncertainty so evident, but she owed him this.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “You didn’t deserve how I treated you yesterday. You’ve been so good to me, Damon.”
He raised his hand to cup her jaw, and he rubbed his thumb tenderly over her cheek.
“You sound as though you’re saying good-bye,” he said, and she was surprised to hear a note of sadness in his voice.
“I would think you’d want me to leave. I’m not proving to be a very good slave,” she said wryly.
He stroked her face, his fingers feathering over her cheekbone. “I want you to stay, Serena mine. I want it more than anything.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
The resolve in her words shook her. They sounded so final when she herself was so uncertain. She didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep. They had a contract, for God’s sake. One that could be withdrawn if one or more of the parties desired. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was business.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “A shadow crossed over your face, and you suddenly seem so sad.”
She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his palm. “This wasn’t supposed to become so . . .”
“Involved? Emotional? Painful?”
She nodded. He’d used just the right words. How else to describe the rawness and the ache that had nothing to do with the kiss of the belt. “Maybe we shouldn’t continue . . . this,” she said.
“I won’t make the decision for you,” Damon said. “I want you to stay but I can’t and won’t make you.”
“I want to be here,” she said as she swallowed back the throb in her voice.
“Then you should stay.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
He tugged at her chin and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “It is simple. If you want to stay, then don’t go.”
“I feel as though I’ve lost something. Some part of myself. But I don’t know what, so how can I have missed it?”
“And what have you gained?” he asked softly.
She stared at him with wide eyes, his question hitting her hard enough to knock the breath from her. Gained. Lost. Wasn’t life a never ending process of both?
She looked down, unsure of what to say. He turned his wrist to glance at his watch and then made a sound of regret.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t shower and dress now, Serena mine.”
She laid her head down on his lap for a long moment as his fingers trickled down her hair. Then she nodded and pushed herself to stand in front of him. And waited.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Go now, Serena. I’ll see about your breakfast while you get ready for work. I’ll be in the dining room.”
CHAPTER 32
“You can’t avoid us forever, Serena. Don’t think I won’t show up at your office and drag you out kicking and screaming if I have to,” Faith said when Serena answered her office line.
Serena sighed and put her palm to her aching head. She shifted forward in her seat because whenever she brushed across the leather, it irritated her still-sensitive back.
“I’m busy, Faith. Trying to catch up after being away from work for a week.”
Faith snorted. “You’re avoiding me and we both know it. Be glad it’s me calling and not Julie.”
“Yeah, well why isn’t she?” Serena asked. “Not like her to miss out on an opportunity to be nosy.”
“She’s too busy plotting.”
“I don’t even want to know,” Serena said. And she didn’t. She was simply too tired and had too much on her mind to worry about whether or not Julie was ever going to make a move on Nathan. She said as much to Faith.
“I think she’s giving up on Nathan. Well, after she carries off her scheme to show him what he’s missing out on.”
Serena rolled her eyes, amused despite the heaviness weighing on her.
“You should probably know, she plans to approach Damon.”
“What?”
“Not personally and not until after your month is up,” Faith said quickly. “She wants him to set up a fantasy for her.”
“For the love of God,” Serena muttered. “He’s not a freaking pimp.”
“Says the woman who went to him for the same thing?” Faith pointed out.
“You’re not endearing yourself to me right now, Faith.”
“If it makes you feel any better, both Gray and I tried to talk her out of it. For different reasons, mind you. I don’t have a problem with Damon’s establishment, just Julie’s motivation. Gray hates The House and I think he’s afraid Julie will drag me there with her,” she finished with a laugh.
Serena didn’t want to think about the end of her time with Damon or that Julie would be going to him for help. Who was to say he wouldn’t volunteer for Julie’s fantasy?
Guilt nagged her even as she thought it. Nothing Damon had ever said or done made her think he approached sex so casually that he’d jump from her bed to her friend’s. And speaking of friends . . .
“Faith, about Micah.”
“What about Micah?” Faith asked.
“Do you and he . . . well, do you and he and Gray have an agreement?” God, how the hell was she supposed to put this anyway?
“Why are you asking?” Faith asked softly.
Fuck me.
“He saw me naked. Damon didn’t plan it that way, mind you. Was my own fault. But then he sort of participated in my punishment, and well, afterward, I remembered that you and him . . . that is, you and him and Gray . . . Well, I just felt bad about it.”
“Serena, there is nothing between me and Micah except deep friendship. I love him dearly, and yes, we had sex. Once. There is no agreement. Gray would have a coronary if someone suggested it. But now, you know you’re going to have to tell me all about this punishment Micah participated in, because it sounds freaking hot.”