Chapter 18 #2
I was about to insist when an urgent order popped up on the delivery app—two miles away. With the weather this bad, every delivery guy on the platform had canceled. No one would take it.
"Damn it. No one's delivering. My rating's going to tank." I stared at my phone, rubbing my temples in frustration.
"Ivy, I'll do it." Damian stood, already packing his laptop. He strode over. "I'll make the delivery. Just wait for me."
Before I could argue, he took the plastic-wrapped bakery box from my hands.
"You don't have to, it's too late—"
"The rain's too heavy. You said you had a headache this afternoon. You can't get soaked."
He looked at me, his gaze protective but gentle. "I know that neighborhood. Charlie showed me the service route a few days ago. Trust me, Ivy. Just once. Okay?"
I glanced at his thin charcoal cashmere sweater, then at the storm raging outside. Hesitated. "But Damian, it's thundering out there. And we don't have extra rain gear, just one umbrella..."
"One's enough."
Damian gave me a smile meant to comfort. Didn't even wait for my answer. Just grabbed the box, took the umbrella, and plunged straight into the black curtain of rain.
An hour. A whole goddamn hour, and Damian still hadn't come back.
I paced like a lost soul, clutching a rag, wiping the already-clean counter over and over, eyes glued to the window. Every crack of thunder made my chest tighten.
Finally, ten more minutes passed. I saw a figure approaching. The bell above the door went crazy.
Damian was drenched. Completely soaked through. He set the empty insulated bag carefully on the floor. His hair was plastered to his pale face, water streaming down his sharp jawline, that charcoal sweater heavy and cold with rain.
But he looked at me and broke into an almost boyish grin. "Ivy. Delivered on time. Not one minute late."
"Damian, what happened to your wrist?" I spotted an obvious cut right away.
"It's nothing, Ivy. Too dark—I didn't see the railing..."
I couldn't keep my distance anymore. I yanked the thickest towels from behind the counter, flustered and furious, and started wiping his face.
"Get those wet clothes off! Then I'm bandaging that... what were you thinking, going out in a storm like this?"
"Ivy, you're worried about me." Damian didn't pull away. Let me scrub his head and face roughly with the towel, bending down to match my height. His voice was hoarse from the cold, but there was a playful, almost triumphant lilt to it.
"Shut up!" I snapped, face burning, though my hands gentled without meaning to.
"Hold on. This thing's soaked through." Damian reached up with long arms and wrestled the heavy, wet sweater over his head, tossing it on the floor.
I turned away, too embarrassed to look at him. Without the sweater, Damian stood there in just a thin, half-damp white dress shirt.
"Ivy, do you have anything dry I could borrow?" Damian frowned at his shirt. The rain had turned the white fabric nearly transparent, clinging to his broad, solid chest.
I glanced over without thinking—and immediately regretted it. With his breathing quick and shallow, every contour of muscle was visible under the dim lights, radiating that raw, mature masculinity.
The mixer in the back kitchen had stopped ages ago. The front room held nothing but the low rumble of thunder outside and our breaths—growing heavier, tangled together.
My hand, still holding the towel, froze on his shoulder.
We were too close. Close enough that I could see his Adam's apple bob hard as he swallowed. Close enough to feel the scent of him—cold rain mixed with hot skin—and it made my knees weak.
Damian looked at me. His breathing got rough.
"Ivy..."
He murmured my name, voice trembling slightly. When I didn't answer, he edged forward half a step, arms lifting slowly, circling toward my waist.
Every muscle in my body locked up.
Move, Ivy. Push him away. Be cold like before. Tell him to get out.
My brain screamed warnings. Every rational cell in my body shrieked that this was wrong.
But...
When his warm hands finally settled on my lower back through the thin fabric of my dress, I melted.
He lowered his head, breath hot against my ear, voice husky. "Ivy, can I?"
I didn't pull away. I just closed my eyes, almost despairing, and let my hands clutch weakly at his damp shirt.
Reason crumbled. My body leaned into his warmth, honest in a way I couldn't deny. I hated his coldness, his selfishness—but my body still wanted him.
Damian sensed my surrender. His breathing turned frantic.
I didn't speak. Just tilted my face up slightly.
The next second, his lips found mine. The kiss started gentle—testing, treasuring—but quickly turned desperate. His hand locked around my waist, pulling me tight against him, tongue parting my lips, tangling with mine in fierce, devouring strokes that tasted of rain and him.
My hands grabbed his arms instinctively, kissing him back, legs going weak. I hadn't had sex in so long. The intensity blanked my mind.
When we finally broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead against mine, voice rough. "I want to take care of you... Let me. Okay?"
I bit my lip, face burning, but somehow I nodded.
Damian dropped to his knees, hands sliding slowly up under my skirt, lips trailing kisses along my inner thigh. My body trembled uncontrollably. I braced myself on the counter, knuckles white. When his mouth finally reached my most sensitive place, I couldn't hold back a soft moan.
"Damian..." My voice shook, barely recognizable.
His tongue moved with deliberate slowness, parting me with gentle pressure before flicking over my clit in soft, teasing circles. I gasped, hips jerking involuntarily, but his hands gripped my thighs firmly, holding me steady.
"Easy," he murmured against me, breath warm and maddening. "I've got you."
When had Damian ever spoken to me like this? So careful. So focused on me. My head fell back, a broken sound escaping my throat as he licked a long, languid stripe that made my knees buckle.
He caught me before I could collapse, one arm hooking around my waist while the other hand slid up my thigh. His fingers traced my entrance slowly—so slowly I wanted to scream—before slipping one inside.
"God," I choked out, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He groaned against me, the vibration shooting through my core. "You're so wet, Ivy." His voice was thick, reverent. He curled his finger just right, finding that spot that made my vision blur, while his tongue kept working in perfect rhythm.
I'd never felt anything like this. Not with him. Not before. He'd always been efficient in bed—focused on his own release. But this? This was worship.
He added a second finger, stretching me carefully, and I whimpered. My thighs shook around his head as he pumped slowly, matching the pace of his tongue. Every nerve ending was on fire.
"Damian—please—"
"Tell me what you need." His lips brushed my clit as he spoke, the barest touch that had me gasping.
"More," I managed, voice breaking. "Don't stop."
He obeyed instantly. His fingers picked up speed, thrusting deeper, while his mouth sealed over me with renewed hunger. The dual sensation—his tongue circling, flicking, his fingers stroking that perfect spot inside—pulled me apart.
I was dimly aware of my own sounds, desperate and unrestrained, echoing through the empty shop. My hand tangled in his damp hair, holding him there, and he groaned like he loved it.
"That's it," he whispered, breath hot against my skin. "Let go, Ivy. I want to feel you come."
The command, the raw need in his voice, shattered me. My climax hit hard and fast, pleasure crashing through me in waves. I cried out his name, body convulsing, and he didn't let up—kept licking, kept pumping his fingers, drawing it out until I was shaking and gasping for air.
When I finally stilled, legs trembling, he pulled back slowly. His lips were swollen, glistening, and the sight of him kneeling there—looking up at me like I was everything—made something inside me crack wide open.
Damian rose to his feet, steadying me when I swayed. His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my flushed cheek. "I love you, Ivy. From now on, I just want to be with you like this."
I looked down at him, speechless for a moment. In that instant, I only wanted to follow my instincts.