Chapter 6 Damon #2
He does the same thing he did with the first one, and then once again beams at me when he’s successful. “All right,” he says. “Now we can have a party. Be sure to finish your bottle since we can’t cork it up again.”
“Jesus…” I mumble under my breath.
Though, honestly? That was pretty impressive.
It’s not his ability to open a bottle with a pen that makes me feel alive. That’s a random life skill I’ve never looked into, but no, that’s not what impresses me.
What impresses me is how smooth he is… how confident he is with almost everything he does.
I may call him the agency’s golden boy and imply it’s because of his surname, but gun to my head, I’d admit that I like how capable Ellis is at most things.
He does this all the time. He walks into a room already sure of what he’s there for and he takes what he wants and leads.
It’s fucking hot.
Shit.
What’s going on with me?
Ellis buys me dinner and opens a wine bottle with a pen, and I’m ready to get on my knees for him. I’m not even surprised. Last time, all he had to do was lock eyes with me in the middle of a crowded bar.
My face heats. Thank God Ellis isn’t paying attention.
He plops down on the bed, puts his opened bottle on the floor beside him, pulls the bowl of Bolognese toward himself, then preoccupies himself with his phone.
Barely a minute later, he casts Love, Actually on the television and switches off the lights.
The glow of the screen is just enough for me to be able to see the spread on the mattress and the way Ellis grins at me.
Fighting back a smile, I mimic him. I sit down as well, placing the bottle on the floor, and debate eating the banana bread before an actual meal.
When Ellis starts harping about how the movie’s off to an awful start and how it’s already so sappy, I take a swig of the wine instead.
He barks out a laugh, watching as I gulp down the alcohol.
I don’t know shit about wine, but based on how smoothly it goes down my throat, even I know it’s the good kind.
Ellis doesn’t hold back his critiques about the movie, complaining about how there’s too many storylines and about how horrible some of the characters are. He says it between mouthfuls of pasta and occasionally reaching down for his wine.
“Ohhh, God, he wants his best friend’s wife.” Ellis shakes his head and heaves out a dramatic sigh. My lip twitches when he gives me a baffled look. “Of all people he could want, he wants her!?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Sometimes you can’t help who you want.”
He smirks, his eyes lighting up. “That’s deep, Dee. Totally agree, though.”
His lower lip’s glossy with red wine, and I wonder if it would taste as sweet if I licked it off?
I bring my bottle up to my mouth and take another gulp.
Nobody’s more surprised than me when I realize I’ve already drank half of it, all thanks to Ellis not holding back his criticism of my favorite movie.
I can feel the effect of it on my warm cheeks and the slight fuzziness in my mind.
I’m drinking more than I’m eating, mostly because Ellis seems to really like pasta and his appetite’s way better than it was yesterday.
If he’s still hungry later, he’ll need my bowl as well.
He doesn’t seem impressed by the banana bread, as opposed to me who’s already had two slices.
“You going to finish that?” Ellis asks, staring hungrily at my half-eaten meatball pasta.
Called it.
“Nah,” I say, pushing it toward his side.
Ellis beams, grin spreading wide, and I watch as he practically vibrates side to side when he grabs my food for himself.
It’s hard to focus on the rest of the movie as Ellis continues to chatter throughout it.
He doesn’t hold back on giving me his thoughts, including how unrealistic most of the scenarios are.
Ellis gets so passionate about his arguments, gesticulating wildly, and soon enough he’s much closer to me, slapping my knee as he makes his points.
I’m not sure if it’s because of the alcohol in me or because he’s now leaning his elbow against my thigh, but it’s definitely a lot warmer than it was when we started this movie.
Ellis’s cheeks are red and he has a dazed look in his eyes, and judging from the light buzz in my head, I’m sure I look the same.
He doesn’t complain when I slip the bottle away from his fingers, scared that he’ll spill its remnants all over our sheets.
“Dee. Damon.” He taps my leg with slim fingers. “No, no. I’m not done. Give that back.”
Sighing, I hand it back to him knowing that there’s no point arguing.
It doesn’t get past me that he gets oddly quiet during the scenes where Emma Thompson’s character finds out her husband’s cheating, though.
Ellis bows his head and suddenly gets very fascinated with his half-empty bottle of wine, swishing it around and blinking at it.
His shoulders go stiff, and he drums his fingers against my knee in rapid successions.
“Stop that,” I mumble. Without thinking, I squeeze his wrist.
He lets me, and his hand relaxes. It stretches out on my thigh, once, and then his fingers curl against me. I almost don’t want to let go, but I do.
When the scene about the cheating’s over, he rubs his nose and lets his eyes drift to our open window. It’s started to snow again. Flakes dust the frame, and he blinks at the blurry lights that the city skyline gives us.
“Ellis?” I ask. “Do you really not like the movie?”
His eyes are half-lidded, and he’s leaning against my shoulder. “A bit too corny. I don’t buy the idea of romantic love. Hooking up and fucking, sure, but being with one person and committing? Knocking on a hundred doors to find one person you’re in love with? Too much trouble.”
I press my lips tight, my gaze unfocused on the screen.
It’s nearly the end, and the music and the conversations—the people flitting around—don’t catch my attention like they usually do.
It’s not that he’s ruined the movie for me, but his words do scratch at my chest. They give me a totally new insight on who Ellis Donlan is.
“So you prefer hooking up over commitment,” I murmur.
Who knows why the hell I felt the need to say that? But we’re crossing all sorts of boundaries tonight, so might as well push it.
“And you like commitment,” he counters almost immediately. Ellis doesn’t move away from my shoulder. He stays a steady weight against me.
“And how would you know that?”
“Because I’m good at reading people,” he says with that confidence that never fails to amaze me.
“Why do you think I get the good clients? It’s not because of my last name.
It’s because I can read people well. When you know what drives someone, then it’s easy to work with them.
It’s also easy to piss them off. You, Damon?
You like stability. You’re a solid rock, and you hate unpredictability.
It frazzles you. That’s why it’s so easy to get under your skin.
.. and that’s why I know you prefer commitment over one-night stands. ”
I roll my eyes. “You know me so well.”
“I really, really do.”
The credits start rolling. Ellis lifts his head off my shoulder, and I turn to him. He blinks at me slowly, and the light from the screen casts fluttering shadows on his face. I can smell the wine on his slightly parted lips, and I think if I leaned in, he’d let me kiss him. Maybe.
“You pretend to hate me,” he continues, his mouth quirking at the side. “But what you actually hate is how unstable I make you feel.”
“I don’t hate you.”
When he lets out a huff, his warm breath dances against my cheek. “Please. Half the time, you look at me like you want to choke me.”
“And what about the other half of the time?” I challenge.
He grins and I already regret asking. I’ve given him the ammo, and he’s going to take it because that’s what he does. Voice low, Ellis says, “The other half of the time, you look at me like you want to fuck me. Ironically, you’re welcome to do both.”
I suck in a breath. Heat spreads across my face, down my neck, and expands through my chest. It runs down my spine and through every crevice of my being.
Who the fuck just says that? Who the fuck would even call someone out like that?
Ellis. That’s who.
“You wish,” I say. A weak attempt to salvage myself. To throw him off.
“I do actually wish that,” Ellis says, and my heart jolts. “I’m into the whole protective giant thing you’ve got going on.”
My dick twitches and I shift away from him. This is getting dangerous. Very dangerous. “I’m not a giant,” I grumble.
“You kinda are. Not my fault you’re huge.”
I grit out, “Not my fault you’re easy to throw around.”
He vibrates with laughter. “And what would you know about throwing me around?”
“More than enough,” I snap out before I can stop myself. “Threw you on the bed easily enough, didn’t I? You think I don’t remember how you spread your fucking legs when I did? Even now, I could have you on your knees and begging if I wanted to.”
I suck in a breath.
Ellis’s smile turns downright mischievous. “Doubt you still have it in you. Must have been a one time thing.”
Something snaps in me. I scowl and grip his jaw, tight enough to keep him in place but not strong enough to hurt him. Ellis doesn’t move.
“Ellis,” I growl. It’s a warning. “Stop taunting me. I mean it.”
He lets a beat pass. Then he lifts his chin slightly, holds my stare, and smirks.
“Stop threatening me with a good time then,” he says, barely a whisper. It’s loud, though. It reverberates through me.
My grip on his chin loosens, and a strange, rumbling sound escapes my throat. I don’t even realize it’s me until Ellis’s eyebrows raise and he lets out a soft laugh. His stare drifts down to my mouth, and he inhales, his chest rising before meeting my gaze again.
My heart jumps when he wets his lips with his tongue.
Fuck it.
He’s already surging forward by the time I’ve gripped the front of his shirt.