10. Mila

I let Damien leave before me. Facing the unyielding gazes of people throughout the restaurant is crippling. I was loud, I just don't know how loud. My thighs press together tightly, and I suppress a shiver as I think about his full lips and tongue.

The fact his cock was incredibly hard, and he still focused solely on me, makes me believe he truly is about my pleasure. Then again, this goes against Kass. She knew Damien's nature and I promised I could handle myself.

Goddammit.

Bending over the sink, I twist the knobs and splash some water on my face, hoping to remove the blatant blush on my tanned skin. I grab some paper towel and blot at the makeup that's smeared slightly.

My insides clench deliciously, and I will myself to put the image of Damien's mouth on me out of my mind. I won't be able to function properly if that's all I can think about. Flustered, I exit the bathroom, taking calming breaths.

Despite my fears, no one has batted an eyelash as I return. They don't seem to notice I've just come all over someone's face in the restaurant bathroom – or if they notice, frankly, they don't give a shit. I firm my lips into a light smile, and catch Damien's mesmerizing orbs devouring me as I near the table.

My breath hitches in my throat as he slowly runs his tongue along his bottom lip, savoring me on his tongue, and grin spreads on his face. With firm hands, he runs his fingers through his hair and stands when I pull my chair back out.

The Watkins aren't back. I look around questioningly.

Damien thumbs his menu.

"Where are they?"

"Oh, they left."

"Why?" I ask incredulously, searching around the restaurant. I come up empty, not seeing them anywhere. Damien sets his menu down, and his eyes harden for a second.

"Gwen wasn't feeling well." He announces impassively. I can tell he's upset they've wasted his time. Guess it doesn't matter considering he gets paid for a full hour anyways.

"Oh, sorry."

He shrugs as the waiter comes back.

"Doesn't matter. I'm still finishing my lunch."

"Of course," I grumble. I watch intrigued as Damien orders our food in French. I must look puzzled, because he chuckles, and bites his lip.

I want to bite that lip...

Whoa. I take a steadying breath, and blink a few times, dispelling the thought from my mind. He clasps his hands together, resting his elbows on the table.

"Impressive, huh?"

I shrug, trying to act unimpressed. Don't want things going to his already inflated ego.

"If you're into that sort of thing," I add nonchalantly.

His grin is infectious and I find myself grinning, and shifting in my seat. I notice a sensual orchestral piece playing softly on the speakers, and a feeling of intimacy encompasses me.

It's only the two of us.

And by his feral, hungry gaze, he wants me to be his meal.

"I'm sure the food will be delicious," I comment, attempting to add some light small talk. I think I've dreamt him raising his hand to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip before he sucks the tip of his finger like he's just tasted something fucking magnificent.

"It won't compare to the taste of you on my tongue."

I swallow, my tongue suddenly dry causing my words to get stuck in my throat.

"Damien," I chastise, glancing around the table wearily. "Please."

He holds up his hands innocently, and leans back in his seat, observing me with a pointed gaze. He's so intimidating. So sexually arousing, and overpowering. Like he gets what he wants every fucking time.

"Why do you go to that club?" I find myself questioning, before I can stop the words. It's really not my place to ask but the thought of him fucking someone there makes my stomach feel like someone's stabbed me and begun twisting the knife. I shouldn't feel that way.

He can fuck who he'd like. Just leave me out of it.

He clenches his jaw, running his nails along his chin contemplatively, before he furrows his brows. I can tell he's deciding whether he should address the issue. Uncomfortableness settles within my gut, causing me to look away. His silence is deafening.

Just as I'm about to pull my phone out for an escape, he clears his throat.

"I enjoy it's amenities."

"You enjoy paying for sex?" I press crudely, crossing my arms over my chest. He levels a scolding gaze my way and his voice is curt, deep and husky.

"I enjoy being a member."

"Ah," I say and cluck my tongue. "So are you still enjoying being a member now?" I grit out. I'm not just going to be one of his many conquests. He senses my tone, and he gives me a wry smile.

"Why?" He mimics me and crosses his arms over his chest. "Jealous?" I know he's teasing me, but the tug in my chest frightens me.

"No." I shrug, feigning more disinterest than I actually have. "I could care less. Do what you want." My voice wavers, and sounds insecure to my ears. I inwardly groan.

"Mila," He begins. My name on his tongue is a melodic note. One that I could hear repeatedly. His mouth caresses it like it's some naughty word. I part my lips slightly, a rushed breath escaping. With a slow, sultry blink he continues. "I can assure you your pussy is the only one I'm interested in claiming right now."

A small gasp erupts from my lips.

The waiter returns, interrupting this intimate moment, and I don't know whether to be thankful or frustrated.

Damien furrows his brows, clearly frustrated for the intrusion.

The waiter manages an apologetic look, and sets our food onto the table. I stare down, questioningly.

"Boeuf bourguignon. Trust me. It's absolutely delicious."

Damien averts his attention back to the waiter.

"We'll take a bottle of the 2004 Vieilles Vignes."

I begin to shake my head. I don't want to drink. I need to keep a clear head around him.

"It'll compliment the meal. Trust me." Damien's fixed gaze is demanding, even as he awaits silently for my answer.

I nod, just deciding to trust him since I have with the meal.

The Boeuf bourguignon is served with boiled potatoes, and parsley. It looks absolutely mouthwatering. I reach for my fork, and put a piece of the meat into my mouth. It melts on my tongue, as an explosion of flavors caresses each taste bud. I'm moaning as I chew.

I peer up at Damien, and he's smiling, amused.

"What?" I mutter before swallowing what's in my mouth.

He shakes his head, and remains quiet.

I'm just about to press further when my phone rings. I set my fork down, scrambling to get the phone out of my purse, and place it on the table. I frown.

Cole.

Fucking lovely.

I huff and answer the call.

"What?" I snap.

He chuckles, the thick sound of his voice is unwanted.

"Mi, you need to come unlock this fucking door. I left some shit in your apartment."

I slap my hand down on the table, and glare off into the distance. Is he fucking serious right now?

"I'll drop your shit off to you, what is it?" I can't think of anything I've seen in my apartment that's his. He just wants to weasel his fucking way back into my apartment, and probably try to fuck me. I wouldn't be surprised. He tried it the night he fucking stranded me.

"Nah, I'm already here," He replies, like it's my fucking problem. I feel a headache forming in my fucking temples. I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose, and sigh.

"I'm not gonna be there for a while," I relinquish, exhausted. It's the same fight's over and over again. "I'm working."

"Come on, Mila. I have shit I have to do. You're wasting my fucking time. Do I have to break in?"

I know he will to. I've already gone through one broken window.

Damien's intense gaze bores into my skull. I place my hand over my phone and hold it away from my head.

"I'm sorry, I really have to run home real quick," I say with trepidation. Damien picks up on my stressed tone and nods.

"I'll be right there. Don't you fucking touch anything," I hiss and hang up. "What are you doing?" I question, watching Damien pull out his wallet and slap some money onto the table. He stands, and ignores my probing question.

"I'm driving you."

"No, no, no." I rise from my seat, and firmly shake my head. I hold up my hands. "Please. I can do this on my own. I'll be back." The last thing I need is for Damien to see my shitty taste in men. Cole and him are complete fucking opposites. Cole tends to be overly aggressive to.

Fucking eh.

"Not happening," I affirm, and hold out my hand for his keys.

"I'm taking you. That's the end of it," he exclaims, and brushes past my outstretched hand.

What the hell is with these men pushing me around? I'm so fucking sick of it. I glare, petulantly, at his back and follow him out to the car.

"Ridiculous."

When we're outside, he stops abruptly and I run straight into his hard back. I press my hands against his back to steady myself, admiring how nice the curve of his muscles feels beneath my hand, before I step back, yanking my hand back like I've been burned.

"What the hell?"

I realize he's stopped to hold the door open for an older couple leisurely walking in to the restaurant. I step aside, and smile warmly at them.

Guess he's a nice guy and I'm an asshole. I snicker.

When we're alone heading towards the car, I cast him a thoughtful look.

"That was nice."

"I can be a nice guy."

"Really?" I reply sarcastically and roll my eyes. "I was under the impression you were bad."

He grabs my elbow when we're beside the car and pulls me around, and his warm breath fans my face. He smells so good. Like cologne and Damien. It's a scent that makes my head spin wondrously.

His alluring gaze makes my chest heave rapidly, and my face flush. My body's pressed firmly against his.

"Trust me, Mila, I'm far from good."

"W-what?" I sputter out. He closes his eyes momentarily, his face scrunching like he's in pain and he releases me. To my disappointment, I miss the feeling of his hands on me. I'm stunned momentarily before I get into the car as he holds the door open for me, wordlessly.

A thick sexual charge pulsates within the car as we sit beside each other, unmoving. His hands rest on his lap, and mine are clasped together, waiting.

"Damien," I breathe.

He starts the car without looking at me, driving quietly to my apartment.

I wonder what's got him so quiet? He doesn't say anything the entire ride. I feel the urge to escape, and avoid taking over. Is it something I said?

I don't have to dwell on it long. Seeing Cole's car outside of my apartment is enough to fucking distract me. I hop out before the car's in park and march over to my front door where Cole waves and gives me a lopsided grin. He knows I'm pissed.

"What the fuck, Cole? You know I work during the day?" I snarl angrily while fumbling with my key to unlock the door. Thankfully I brought my keys even though I didn't bring my car. "It's like you want me to fucking get fired."

"It's not my fault you fucking wanted to end things and now I have to get my shit from your place."

"Uh, how about you don't cheat on me next time them, fuck face?"

"Come on, Mi, can we just fucking get past that." I freeze when I feel his fingers running along my hip. I whip my head around, and raise my hand and smack him across the face. My palm stings, but the anger helps diminish the pain.

He shoves me into the door, and I hiss as pain shoots in my side.

"You fucking prick," I yell.

He glares at me, arms up and fists balled like he's a fucking gorilla.

I don't hear the car door opening, and I don't glance to look at Damien stalking towards us. It's not until Cole is grabbed and yanked back away from the door, that I notice Damien's demonic glare aimed directly at Cole.

"What the fuck?" Cole gasps as Damien raises his fist and punches him directly in the jaw. I hear the sound of his fist connecting with his face. The sickening pop is followed by Cole's stumbling footsteps.

"Damien!"

I rush over to Cole, attempting to steady him as he begins to tip backwards. What the hell?

I turn my icy gaze to Damien.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You have no right – "

"Mila, don't," Damien snaps. He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice the redness of his knuckles and how one is swollen a little. Cole is clutching his face, eyes rolling slightly as he leans against me.

"Stay the fuck out of my personal life, Damien."

"It doesn't fucking seem like you know how to handle your personal life, Mila," Damien shoots back and I can't say it doesn't sting. His words are a slap in the face. Taken aback, I sigh, and shake my head.

"No. No. Enough. I'm done. Find yourself a new fucking assistant." I pull Cole towards the front door, leaving Damien behind, and not looking back.