Chapter 18
Mandy hadn’t stayed for long. She hadn’t needed to, not when Skylar laughed off the interview and told her she was amused more than angry. It hadn’t been Jack, not exactly.
Skylar stared down at her muted phone, watching Sorcha smirk back at her as she took the worst day of Skylar’s life and twisted it into gossip. Sorcha had been the one to convince Skylar to run away as a teenager, that her voice was too unique not to give the band a shot. That she’d be her big sister instead of Jami.
What a fucking joke. Skylar tossed her phone toward the bed.
Sorcha had told the media that Skylar had always been more into consensual orgies than a single guy. Like that’s what that night fucking was.
Skylar sat against the wall with the lights turned off. She wasn’t going to have a panic attack over a bitch like that. No, her breathing was nice and slow.
It was her mind that was running in circles, trying to show her memories she didn’t want to see. There was no way it’d quiet down enough for her to sleep tonight. She should have taken Mandy up on the offer to use the college space. Only she hadn’t wanted her manager to stick around. Skylar didn’t want anyone to see her.
Her head pressed against the wall as the ding of the elevator finally came. Damon was back. She took a deeper breath, her eyes burning as she stared into the dark. Her light was off. He had no reason to think she was awake.
He might not have seen the interview yet. Except his manager was a fan of hers. Hell, his media people had to be following Skylar’s feeds as closely as his with the whole dating thing. Sorcha had even brought him up.
Skylar told her brain to shut up. Winter Dust Storm wasn’t even popular anymore, which was why Sorcha had done it. If she couldn’t feed off Skylar’s name, Damon Lynch was so much better.
The text she’d gotten had only pissed Skylar off more. What did she give a shit if Jack knew or not? Like she believed anything he said, anyway. He liked to shove blame aside.
Sorcha’s braying laugh filled Skylar’s ears, caught in the edges of her memory just as her presence had been during that time. “Damn, she’s coming again. How are you ever going to satisfy her after this, Jack?”
“Shut up,” Jack had snarled as he continued to press down on Skylar’s shoulders. He’d stared into Skylar’s eyes, slightly blurry even from that close, but his anger had still been obvious.
“S-stop,” Skylar told her brain, as she shoved to her feet. She froze, her eyes flicking to the door leading to the suite. Despite taking off her boots, she’d never learned to be quiet. She moved to listen through the crack. None of the lights had been turned on. She’d be able to see it around the edges.
She was fucking hiding again. The idea of it had her fingers clawing at the knob, pulling it open.
No one stood in the main area of the suite. If Damon had returned, he’d gone off to his room.
She shouldn’t even care what he thought. She didn’t, she told herself. “I decided this,” Skylar murmured into the silence. She had control. She’d laughed at Mandy, saying what was said fit right in with her public persona. She would turn it on its head and use it to boost Damon. Six men couldn’t satisfy her, but Damon did or some shit.
Her hands gripped her arms tightly as she crossed to the windows. She squinted toward the ground, trying to ignore her barely-there reflection. The moon was behind the clouds that night instead of filling the room with light. The fluorescent lighting down below seemed faded as well. Everything looked like one dark blob.
She closed her eyes, but then Sorcha’s laughing face filled her mind. “What do you mean, why didn’t I stop them? You were coming like a fucking geyser, Sky, love. Don’t act all embarrassed now.”
Skylar forced her eyes wide again, but the skyline looked even blurrier. That was fine. She didn’t need to see anything.
“Skylar?” Damon’s gentle voice called.
Her throat tightened. He was such a worrier. The last thing she needed was for him to touch her with one of those gentle massages. She was too close to shattering.
“Hey—”
“I’ll handle it,” Skylar choked out. She cleared her throat, not turning. From where he stood, his reflection behind her looked so much more vivid than hers in the glass. “The interview won’t smear your image.” Skylar’s fingers ached from how they clenched. “Hell, you’ll seem even sexier when I’m done. Don’t worry about what she said.”
Damon didn’t touch her like she’d feared. Instead, he moved to the glass, leaning his back against it so he could study her. “What are you talking about? She who?” he asked.
Skylar’s jaw clenched. Despite the dark, she didn’t like the idea of what he’d see if he looked too hard. “Didn’t your manager send the video?” Mandy would have sent it to him earlier.
“I didn’t check.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I mean, I just got back from the tavern a little while ago.”
And had hopped in the shower, by the dampness of his hair. He didn’t use any cologne, not that she’d noticed. No, Damon just smelled like cotton and sunshine.
“I was hoping you were awake. Our date, talking to you…” He looked out the window. “I had a good time.”
“Oh,” Skylar murmured as her lips curled. Of course, she thought, her cynicism returning as she studied his profile. Damon was too kind to say it, but he was a guy after all. He’d done the song and dance and had expected a different dance in return.
Her arms loosened finally, but they felt like someone else’s as she moved into him, pressing her hands flat against the cool glass. If only the chill would flow through her skin and numb the ache inside. “You took me out expecting a good fuck in return,” she said, the huskiness in her voice more due to the continued tightness of her throat than any interest she had. Still, fucking was always better than thinking.
She slammed her lips onto his. The scrape of teeth couldn’t be helped. She could choose to do this, just like she’d always chosen, but there’d be a little pain to it. He might as well share in that.
To her surprise, he turned his head, breaking the kiss. “Stop, Skylar.”
She blinked, pulling her hands back as she straightened. “What? Too rough?” She shrugged. “That’s the mood I’m in tonight, so be careful what you ask for.”
“I’m not asking for anything.” A frown formed on Damon’s face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Skylar.”
“Oh, sure.” Her laugh raked at her chest, so she shoved at his with one hand while the other went to his jeans. “Let’s see about that.” It was just like him to lie to himself about what he really wanted.
Only he didn’t have an erection. Sure, she felt the length of him under her hand, but that was just him. He wasn’t hard at all.
“Huh. So you don’t want me.” She pulled away, her arms wrapping tight around herself again. Jack had been right. She thought much too highly of herself.
Damon shook his head. “No. I want the hell out of you. Just not sex. Not tonight.”
Skylar scowled at him as her gut twisted. “Stop talking in riddles.”
“You were hurt by something,” Damon murmured.
“Fuck that. I’m not hurt.” Her gut clenched even tighter as she glared at him. The clouds shifted, letting in a splash of moonlight. The blood on his lip was only too obvious. “Oh, shit, but you are.” Her hand reached for him, swiping it away as the acid that had filled her stomach heated. “Sorry.”
“A bite won’t kill me,” Damon said, his lips moving against her finger.
“But I doubt it’s something you’re into. No wonder you don’t want sex.” She sighed, letting her hand drop. “What the hell are we doing? I’m all wrong for you.”
Damon reached for her, but his hands hovered. “You’re amazing, Skylar.”
She snorted. “That’s just the prior orgasms talking.”
“I did enjoy touching you,” he admitted. “But, you know what? Sleeping together was even better.”
“Call a spade a spade, sweet face. What we did in the gym was fucking.”
Damon shook his head. “Sleeping, Skylar. I’m talking about how you rested against me last night.” A tremor shook his hands when he still didn’t touch her. “That’s what I was hoping for tonight.”
Her back tingled from the ghost of his remembered strokes. She was pretty sure if he tried, she’d fall apart. “I don’t—” She swallowed as the denial caught in her throat. “Not tonight.”
“I’d never touch you without permission,” Damon said. His hands dropped back to his sides. She was still too close for him to slip by her. “If it’s space you need, I can give you that. Move back a little.”
Her legs locked in place. The way he stared at her made her feel weak. It reminded her how breakable she was, but there was a warmth inside, too, and a craving she hadn’t ever felt. It wasn’t like when she’d weaned off the drugs and alcohol. It wasn’t a need. No, there was an itch under her skin as she considered letting his hands smooth over her back, and a yearning she had no clue what to do about.
“Hold still,” she murmured, moving her body closer to him. Inch by inch she lowered her head, resting it against his chest. His heart beneath her ear was faster than she expected. Her eyes moved to the front of his jeans. Damon still wasn’t aroused. He really was sweet, given how even this amount of touching made him nervous. “All right, try my back.”
His hands came up, but while the slow circles on her back felt good, the cage of his arms had her stomach roiling again. Phantom laughter filled her ears. “No,” she gasped, and his hands immediately dropped.
She was so fucking weak. Nips almost of teeth slid under her skin, but she couldn’t shut her eyes to deal with it. No, then the memory would take her for real.
“Let’s sit on the couch,” Damon suggested.
Her eyes found his, expecting to find pity there. The moonlight did make his eyes soft, but it was almost like hope fluttered in them.
“You still want to try this?”
“You told me before. It’s about control.” He nodded toward the couch. “If I sit first, you can decide what feels right.”
Skylar moved aside so he could escape. He walked over to the couch, settling into a corner. She hesitated before following, plopping herself far enough away not to touch him, but not hiding in the opposite corner. She frowned down at his jeans.
“If you showered, why’d you put on the same thing again?”
His hands moved over the faded material. “These are my favorite. Comfort clothes.”
“Huh.” Skylar didn’t have any of those. She tilted toward him, finding it cute when his hands abruptly lifted from his legs. Her cheek liked the slide of the worn jeans as she rested her head in his lap, mostly on the one thigh. “Hmm. Soft,” she murmured.
It wasn’t as good as lying on his chest. There was no heartbeat in his thigh. But her own slowed. Her hands didn’t ache for the first time that night, burrowing between her knees instead of clutching at herself in panic.
“Not bad,” she said, letting herself relax. “But warn me before your dick decides to poke me in the face.”
He made a choked sound. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not.” The reality of those words surprised her. She stared at the windows, where the light shifted as the clouds continued to play hide-and-seek with the moon.
Their breathing filled the silence, steady and calm.
“Maybe my hair?” she suggested. “You know, that scalp thing you do.” Tension filled her shoulders as she wondered how her brain would react.
His hand lowered until his fingers sifted through the hair over her ear. The tingles were immediate, but no memories rose. That made sense. No one had ever touched her hair before Damon. She couldn’t even remember her mother brushing it, though maybe Jami had, but even that wasn’t clear.
Her shoulders loosened as he kept up the scalp massage. He only used one hand. She focused on the gentle movement, letting everything else fade away even as she kept her eyes open and staring.
Lethargy drifted over her body. There was no way, she told herself, but her legs uncurled along the couch as her hands lay loose near her stomach. She might really be able to sleep for the second night in a row. If she listened to his heartbeat, she’d be lost. “I wish I could lie on your chest again.”
“We can try. Lift up.”
She did, and Damon’s body slid under hers on the couch. The tingles weren’t a bad thing, and he took the inside against the back cushions that would have made her feel caged in. Skylar shifted on top of his body, her head finding his chest and that heartbeat, which was still a little fast. She let her lower body rest beside his instead of over it.
“You won’t fall?” he asked, his hand flat against the couch near her ass.
It should have bothered her, but with his other hand still moving over her hair, she didn’t feel trapped.
“Mmm… good,” was all she could manage as his heartbeat filled her.
She wanted to feel him touching her hair forever, but her eyes were already drifting shut. No laughter or memories rose. All she heard was Damon’s soft whisper.
“I’m here.”
And that was enough.