Don't Tell (Don't 1)

Molly

I didn’t know I had that kind of resolve, but the words flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to fully consider the consequence of breaking up with the king. I didn’t want to go, but it was the only way I could survive this without letting him shatter every part of me.

I got it. He was a king. People jumped when he snapped. But I couldn’t be discounted so easily. I had let myself fall for the fantasy. Believe that beneath the cool exterior, he was as insane about me as I was about him. That when it came to decisions, he would be the knight. The romantic. The prince charming I was a fool to believe in.

I wiped the first heavy tear with my thumb. I refused to fall apart in front of him. I tried to break for the door a second time, but Damon’s grip was forceful.

“Stay, Molly.” It was the first time I didn’t hear command in his voice. “Please, stay.”

It couldn’t be that easy.

“I could,” I answered. “But it will happen again. You’ll demand I do something. You’ll make a decision without asking. Not because you’re trying to be a dick, but because you don’t know how to do this relationship thing any other way.”

“Did you just call me a dick?”

I pressed my lips. That might have gone too far. “Yes. When we’re alone, and it’s you and me. No titles. None of the royal bullshit, yes, you can be a dick. No other man would even think the way you decide things is an option. You’re a dick. I said it.”

I didn’t expect him to laugh. His deep voice carried through the dining room.

“I’m being serious.” But the more I tried to prove my sincerity, the harder he laughed. “Fine. I’ll find a state room, and wait until we dock,” I warned.

“No, Molly. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stepped in front of me. “This goes both ways you know. No one treats me with such royal disdain as you do.” He arched his eyebrows.

“I respect you.” I folded my arms.

“My customs? Culture? Traditions?”

I twisted my lips together. I didn’t think it was the same thing. The parallel was a stretch. I had slighted his country multiple times, but how did that equal the way he made decisions without asking me?

“All right. I don’t agree with everything Galonian. I’ll admit that. But I do respect you, Damon. You, the person. What you’re thinking. Feeling. I don’t ignore it. I don’t try to rule your life like it’s a hobby.”

He clasped

my hands between his. “Then, teach me. Show me. You’re not my hobby. Fuck, that’s the last thing I want you to think.”

It was another ploy to get me to stay, but this one was working. I felt the tension easing in my shoulders. The determination to run down the hall and find a state room to cry in until we made it to shore was suddenly gone.

“I want you to move into the palace, Molly, because I want you.” He traced the line of my jaw. “I want you every night. In my bed. Waking up next to me. I want to talk to you and drink coffee on the balcony. I want to find you buried in some classic novel in the library.” He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “Yes, I need you to be safe, but what I should have said is I need you.”

I gasped. That resolve was gone. He had ripped it down and tore through it with his words.

I fell against him as his lips crushed mine. His hands tangled in my hair, dragging me toward his chest.

“Move in with me,” he whispered against my ear. “Will you?”

I nodded. My hands roamed over his tuxedo, looking for the space under his jacket. “Yes.” I breathed. “Yes.”

“Are you finished with dinner?” he asked.

“I think so.” I hadn’t eaten half of the first course. I was starving, but my total attention was on the gorgeous man in front of me.

“Good, because I’m going to take you back to the room. Unless you want me to fuck you here on the dining room table. Your choice, of course,” he teased.

My eyes lit to his. I breathed heavily. I pulled the edge of the gown up.

“Here,” I whispered.

“Fuck,” he growled.