“Yeah.” I look down at my left hand. “The thing just slammed into my hand, but it’s okay.”
Damian takes my hand in both of his and inspects every inch of it. There’s a small blue bruise where the corner hit, and he brushes his thumb lightly over the tender spot.
When his eyes lock on mine, I feel a fluttering in my abdomen. Scared of what it might mean, I pull my hand from his. “I’m just going to mop the floor, make sure we get all the glass.”
I keep myself busy, cleaning the cabin from top to bottom. Damian got us the necessities, and I’m thankful that a washing machine was one of those things. He put up some washing line in the back where I can hang our clothes.
I do the washing on Sunday mornings. The first few times I did it, I quickly became aware that there was no underwear for Damian. At first, I thought he washed it himself, but when packing the clothes away, I realized that he goes commando.
I can’t stop thinking that Damian doesn’t wear anything under his jeans or slacks.
The last time he went shopping he took me with him, and I got a few more items of clothing. We’re slowly making this cabin home. We have everything we need, and that’s all that matters.
It’s not Sunday but I wash our few items of clothing along with the towels.
When I walk back in from hanging the clothes to dry, I walk right into Damian.
I bounce back and mumble, “Sorry.”
“I’m just going to the hardware to get some things. You need anything?”
You.
The word vibrates through me and like a deaf-mute I can only shake my head. The second he leaves, I slap my hand over my mouth.
What. The. Fuck?
I did not just think that. Yes, Damian is crazy hot, but I’m so not ready. Besides … how can you want something you fear?
I’m not scared of Damian, not at all. I’m scared of intimacy. I’ve been ruined when it comes to that department.
I brush a hand through my hair, feeling all hot and bothered.
I decide to take a cold shower, certain that the water will wash some sense into me.
I strip out of the clothes and only open the cold faucet. I step under the water and let it wash over me, but it’s doing nothing to smother the unwelcome lust and heat I feel for Damian.
I grab the washcloth and I start to wash my body. I’m so freaking horny that when my hand slips between my legs, my hips jerk in search of more friction.
I’ve given myself an orgasm before but this time it’s different. The other times the guy was always faceless, and to be honest, I haven’t masturbated since I was raped. But this time it’s Damian’s eyes I see.
I feel his rock hard body brush against mine. I feel his fingers brush over my jaw, down my neck. I trail my fingers over my breast imagining that it’s his fingers making their way down to the sensitive spot between my legs.
I start to rub the washcloth faster, and as I picture his mouth, curving into a slow smile, I come.
Instantly my mind clears of the lust induced state it was stuck in. “Fuck, Cara!” I snap at myself. “You have to live with the guy. You can’t masturbate like a pervert. Get control over yourself.”
I turn the faucet off and quickly dry myself. I get back into my clothes and then check my face in the mirror. Shit, my cheeks are flushed and there’s a damn sparkle in my eye. I’m so busted.
Damian~
Cara’s been weird around me. She hardly makes eye contact. She almost seems shy, which I don’t understand.
I walk out onto the porch and search the surrounding area. She went for a walk quite a while ago.
I start to walk in the direction I saw her heading in. After a while, the trees start to thin out and about ten minutes later I reach the beach.
I scan the stretch of sand until I see her lone figure, sitting with her knees drawn up against her chest.
I slowly make my way over to her and when I’m close, I stop and just watch her. She’s staring out over the ocean and then a sigh escapes her lips. She gets up, dusts some sand from her ass and then turns around. When her eyes fall on me, shock registers on her face.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asks, dropping her eyes to the sand.
I walk right up to her, and taking hold of her chin, I lift her face to mine. I wait for her eyes to meet mine before I say, “What’s going on? I get the feeling you’re hiding from me?”
She pulls her chin from my fingers and looks back out over the ocean. “Remember you told me not to ask you questions unless you were prepared to hear the truth?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my eyes constantly searching her face. She’s been doing so well, I don’t want a relapse.
“The same counts for you, Damian. Don’t ask me something unless you’re sure you can handle the truth.”
She starts to walk away but I grab hold of her hand and hold her back. “What’s that supposed to mean? You can’t tell me why you’re acting so weird around me?”