CATALINA
I woke up with a start.
It was early, I knew that much. The sun had barely risen, and I shivered a little from the morning air's chill.
I felt out of it.
I had probably gone to bed a little earlier than I was used to. I wasn’t sure. After dinner, Nikolay brought me back to the room, and he stayed there while I got ready, though I knew he didn’t spend the night.
I didn’t know whom I spent the night with last night.
My stomach hollowed out at thinking I might have spent it alone.
I sat up on the bed and looked around the room. It was the first time I actually took it in.
It was smaller than the room I’d had at Father’s house. Pretty generic, though tasteful in design.
It was just an ordinary guest room in a house belonging to a man I thought was anything but ordinary.
Surprisingly enough, I didn’t feel trapped.
The door wasn’t locked.
I could move around the house. I wasn’t sure if they would let me leave, though I had a feeling it had more to do with their protectiveness than keeping me captive.
The door opened, and Damien walked in. He looked fresh like he just got out of the shower, and sure enough, when he placed his hands on the mattress and leaned toward me, I could see his dark hair was damp.
I sniffed.
He smelled nice.
He shot me an amused look, and I looked away. His hand came up to my cheek, his thumb pressing softly against the skin beneath my eyes.
He frowned. “How’d you sleep?”
I shrugged, feeling shy. Probably because I had just woken up or because Nikolay wouldn’t let me wear anything to bed last night save for his T-shirt.
I like the idea of your pretty little cunt touching my shirt, he’d said last night as he tucked me into bed.
I let my gaze settle on something to my left before turning my eyes to Damien.
He didn’t say anything as I took him in. The beard was still there. I wondered if he was planning on keeping the look, and I had absolutely no complaints. Damien was one of those men who looked good with anything, though I wondered how it would feel to kiss him like this.
The urge was so strong that I bit my lip to avoid blurting out anything embarrassing, like begging him just for one kiss.
He smiled with his eyes.
I cupped his cheeks with both hands, letting my fingers move through the softness of the hair.
The texture surprised me when I first felt it, only because I didn’t think there could ever be anything soft about the man.
My eyes moved down to his biceps. The muscles there flexed from holding up his weight. He was wearing a dark gray T-shirt today and black cargo pants that cinched at his ankle.
I shifted, feeling the fabric of the shirt I wore pressing between my legs.
His eyes turned knowing.
“Your beard is so soft,” I said to distract him.