Chapter 306: Damien Lockwood Is Still a Menace

I woke up feeling warm. That was the first thing that hit me, and for a blissfully disoriented moment, I didn’t even question it.

I felt that cozy heaviness that made getting out of bed seem like an unnecessary torture, with something solid pressed against my back and an arm wrapping securely around my waist.

My legs were tangled up with someone else’s, the blanket had somehow slipped halfway down my body during the night, and there was a familiar rhythm of breathing against the back of my neck that my sleepy brain didn’t bother trying to figure out.

So I just lay there.

For those first few moments, there was no past to dwell on.

There was just the warmth behind me and the soft sound of breathing.

And that felt so natural.

That realization scared me, when my brain finally caught up, and I went completely still.

Oh no...oh shit...

Damien.

I fucking kissed Damien!

I stared at the wall ahead as yesterday’s memories came back one by one, along with the horrifying truth that I had spent the entire night wrapped around the guy I’d been insisting I needed some distance from.

My back was against his chest, his arm was snug around my waist.

One of my legs was tangled with his.

And considering the warmth against my neck, his face was extremely close to mine...this wasn’t emotional distance.

This was practically a hostage situation.

I carefully glanced down at his arm.

His hand lay loosely against my stomach, fingers relaxed as if holding me had become so normal that even sleep hadn’t made him let go. I stared at it for a moment before redirecting my gaze to the ceiling.

I needed to get out of this bed.

Preferably before Damien woke up and found out I had apparently tossed aside every boundary I’d set the night before.

I began to move slowly, inch by inch.

First, I tried to slide my leg away, nothing happened.

I tried again, this time more carefully.

The mattress creaked and Damien’s arm tightened around me, I froze and I froze as his breathing stayed steady.

Just as I managed to shift my shoulder, his hand tightened again, pulling me back until my back nestled firmly against his chest.

Then his voice came from close by, deep and gruff with sleep.

"Where are you going?"

I closed my eyes. "I...I wasn’t going anywhere."

"You were."

"I was adjusting."

"At the edge of the bed?"

"Yes."

There was a pause. "Why?"

"Because I like the edge."

His quiet laugh vibrated against my back, I hated that I noticed, I hated even more that I still liked it... even after so long.

"You’re a terrible liar in the morning," he murmured.

"I’ve only been awake for thirty seconds. Give me a moment to wake up!"

That got another soft laugh, and then his arm relaxed.

But he didn’t pull away right away.

Instead, his hand lingered at my waist for a moment before finally moving away and I turned around carefully.

Damien was already watching me.

There was something in his expression that made my carefully built walls feel embarrassingly fragile.

He wasn’t smirking, he wasn’t teasing and he wasn’t wearing the controlled, unreadable expression I remembered from the days when he became the distant CEO everyone knew.

He just looked at me.

His hair was a mess from sleep, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his eyes were still a bit heavy.

He looked younger like this, almost like the Damien I remembered from Preston Hall, the one who would sit across from me at two in the morning while I vented about some assignment, pretending not to be entertained by my dramatic suffering.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he said.

My chest tightened.

It was silly how much those two words affected me. "Morning."

His eyes roamed over my face for a moment, slowly and almost thoughtfully, as if he was trying to memorize something he once knew by heart and was afraid he might lose again.

"Stop staring," I muttered.

"No." He responded simply, "I’ve spent four years wishing I could look at you again. I’m not going to waste the morning pretending I wasn’t."

I quickly looked away to hide my blush...oh crap.

Some things Damien shouldn’t be allowed to say before I’ve had my coffee.

Actually, there are things this fucker shouldn’t say at all!

He stretched beside me, and the movement shifted the mattress beneath us. I suddenly realized we were still in the same bed, still wearing the clothes we’d gone to sleep in, still living in the aftermath of everything that had happened the night before.

I cleared my throat. "I need coffee."

I threw the blanket off and climbed out of bed before the conversation could get any riskier.

Unfortunately, Damien followed me right out of bed like a damn lost puppy.

I could hear his footsteps behind me as I headed to the kitchen, and I fought the urge to turn around and ask if he had suddenly forgotten how to give people some personal space.

Then again, after last night, neither of us seemed to remember what personal space meant.

Frank was up already when we entered the kitchen. He was sitting at the table in his wheelchair, a cup of tea in front of him and the TV playing quietly in the background. He looked up as we came in.

His eyes darted from me to Damien.

Then back to me...then to Damien again.

I recognized that look.

It was the look of a man who noticed something and was deciding whether to be merciful.

Unfortunately, my father had never been particularly good at mercy when there was a chance to embarrass me.

"Good morning, kids." Dad said.

"Morning, Dad."

Damien greeted him politely. "Good morning, Frank."

Dad smiled mischievously as he looked back and forth between us. "You two seem to have had a nice night...did anything... pleasurable occur at a late hour?"

I nearly dropped the coffee spoon as my face immediately went bright red. "Dad!"

"What?"

"Please don’t."

Frank smiled innocently. "I was just asking how you too slept! Can’t I do that?"

"No you cannot! Get your ho ass mind out of the gutter, nothing happened...we just slept!"

Damien stood by the counter, and I could practically feel him struggling not to laugh.

I pointed at him without looking. "And you. Shut up!"

"I haven’t said anything."

Frank chuckled into his tea.

I figured breakfast was going to be a mistake.

I made my coffee, then started preparing toast, because doing something with my hands was better than just standing there while my father silently observed the fact that Damien and I had apparently walked into the kitchen looking like two people who had just shared a bed rather than two emotionally confused adults trying to figure out what we were.

I reached for the bread and Damien reached for it at the same time.

Our fingers brushed and neither of us moved right away.

Damien looked down at our hands before meeting my gaze.

I quickly grabbed the bread. "Got it."

"Yeah"

I turned toward the toaster, Dad took a sip of tea and muttered under his breath.

"Hmm, sure... nothing happened indeed."

I looked over my shoulder. "What was that, Father?"

"Nothing." He said quickly.

"Good," I said.

Dad shook his head, clearly enjoying himself too much. "Just...you two are exactly the same."