Damien knew the moment he tasted her that he had just bought his ticket to hell.
Nothing—not even a bandaged, aching foot—was going to stop him from taking more. It was as if time had never passed. She smelled the same—that sweet, cool vanilla scent that had always driven him insane. He touched her face, her soft cheek, felt the skin tighten as she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss. The action tied him in knots, had his head pounding, his heart, too.
He dropped his head back, stared at her, into those large, hungry gray eyes. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her at that moment, and when she gave him a small, tentative smile, he crushed his mouth to hers, devouring the wet heat of her, changing angles with every breath, her long red curls tickling his face.
On a soft sigh, Tess placed her hands on either side of his head, her fingers snaking into his hair, forcing him closer.
Damien went hard as granite. This was going to be punishment for them both, pleasure for them both.
He ripped his mouth from hers and kissed her neck, nuzzling at the spot where her pulse pounded. She moaned and fisted his hair, tugging him closer. He nipped at her skin the way she used to love as his fingers madly searched for the buttons on her pajama top.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me so I can’t say no.”
Her words excited him, yet were a warning, too—but he was too far gone to care. He wanted her mouth again, wanted to taste her tongue, suckle and bite and make her shiver, make her wet.
His mouth covered hers as his fingers flicked open the buttons on her top. He could hardly wait to feel her, that soft, milky skin beneath his palm. He cursed against her mouth as his hand slid beneath the flannel and over the full curve of her breast. She moaned and arched against him, and the sound filled him with longing. He liberated the buttons of her pajama top, then lowered his head and gently lapped at the soft peak, then again and again, circling the pink flesh until the nipple turned dark and hard.
Tess let her head fall back against the pillow as he continued in easy, lazy circles. Then, when his body and mind were about to explode, Damien took the hard bud into his mouth and suckled deeply. Again and again he suckled until Tess’s mewling sounds turned to deep moans. He continued as he let one hand drift down her belly to the top of her pajama bottoms. Her reaction was quick. She stiffened and her hand came down over his.
His head came up and he looked at her.
She swallowed, shook her head. “It’s…it’s my foot. Hurts.”
He turned away. “Dammit. I’m sorry.” He felt like a giant ass. What kind of man hit on a woman in pain? Maybe the kind who was only looking for a little payback. He stood. “I’m gonna go.”
“Back to bed?”
Not a chance. “I’m going to the red house. Get things set up for the tile job.”
“It’s so early.”
“By the time I get there the sun will be up.”
“Okay.”
He raised a brow at her. “You’re not to move.”
“Damien…”
“If you need anything,” he said, his body feeling as tight as a jackhammer. “Olin is here, and you just have to call down.”
“I’ll be going to the ladies’ room alone,” she said with a half smile.
“Of course.” He walked over to the fireplace and grabbed her crutches. “Use these only if absolutely necessary.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute.
“Now, if you get bored, there’s some books on the nightstand here, and—” he gestured to the large trunk at the end of the bed “—there’s a television in there. You just have to use the remote.”
“Seriously?” she asked, surprised.
He nodded.
“It’s inside the trunk?”
“Yes.”
“Fancy.”
She sat there, in bed, her cheeks flushed, her hair tousled and sexy and Damien felt as if he was going to explode.
Too damn much already. He couldn’t stare at her for one more second. He turned around and walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back around noon.”
Once upon a time, a rabbit was caught in a trap. It sat there for hours until it felt as though it was going quite mad, then it proceeded to gnaw its foot off. Yes, it was bleeding and in pain as it limped through the forest, but it was free.
With her crutches tucked under her arms, Tess explored the second floor. It was all she could do. No up and no down. She had ruled out the stairs, as she had easily envisioned herself falling down them and being bedridden in Damien’s ultramodern house long after he’d returned to California.
Slow and steady, she walked down the hallway, past a few more bedrooms, then a workout room and a billiard room. None of these rooms did anything to pique her curiosity. But then, at the very end of the house, in a large, square-shaped room, she saw a library. Heavy on charm, the space was lined in books and artwork. The furniture was a mixture of leather and chenille, and in the middle of one wall, a river-rock fireplace.
Perfect. A lively blaze danced in the fireplace, and after Tess grabbed a few random novels from the shelf, she sat in front of the fireplace on the brown leather couch.
As she was relaxing, her foot propped up on the coffee table, she saw something move out of the corner of one eye. She turned to see the man she had dubbed “Danny Devito” enter the room.
He inclined his head. “Good morning, Miss York.”
“Hi, there. Olin, right?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Good, because I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was pretty rude.”
Olin shook his head. “No, miss.”
“Oh, c’mon, Olin, it’s okay. You can say it.”
The man smiled, but it was a very thin-lipped one, as though he were fighting the urge to laugh. “You seemed…frustrated.”
“I was. But I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve seen a frustrated woman—you know, with who your boss is and everything.”
Olin’s smile faded. “Can I get you something, miss? Breakfast? Coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
“I could help you back to the room, if you wish.”
Boy, she knew where this was headed. “Thanks, Olin. But I’m good here.”
Olin’s brown eyes were filled with nervous energy. “It’s just that Mr. Sauer said you shouldn’t be out of bed, miss.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“I’m sensing a but miss?”
She smiled. “But I don’t take orders from Mr. Sauer.”
The man grimaced.
Tess shrugged. “I’m good here, really. No worries, Olin, okay?”
Olin didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Yes, miss.” Then inclined his head and left the room.
Tess returned to her book, but after thirty minutes or so she started to get a little antsy. Propped up on crutches once again, she circled the room, not really looking for anything in particular. But when she came to an ancient-looking desk in an alcove off the main part of the library, she was intrigued. She went to the desk and sat. There were only two things on the desktop: writing paper with a modern DS embossed on the top of it, and a very nice pen. This had to be Damien’s desk, Damien’s chair.
She’d never been much of a snoop, but something about being at Damien’s desk without him knowing made her ultracurious. She reached down and opened the long, thin drawer just under the desktop. Her pulse quickened as she searched through a few papers, a map of China and a small bag of sour candy. She didn’t know what she was looking for until she found it. Two photographs. The first was of her and Damien in her college apartment, the one right off of campus. What was he doing with this, she wondered, staring at the picture.
She and Damien looked so young, and so totally happy. Why couldn’t she remember that feeling?
She looked at the second photograph. How the hell had he gotten this? The photo was of her wedding day. She and Henry were standing close, holding her bouquet between them. Tess narrowed her eyes. Unlike the other picture, she didn’t look exactly happy, but she did look hopeful. Things hadn’t started to change yet; Henry hadn’t shown his controlling side yet. Henry smiled back at her in the picture, and a shiver moved over her, settling on the scar covering her inner thigh—that hateful scar that would never go away, and would have to be explained if she ever let a man touch her below the waist.
Flashes of her early-morning makeout session with Damien went through her mind. She’d almost gotten that close with him, and he was the last person she wanted to know about her scar.
She took a deep breath and stuffed the pictures back in the drawer. Just as she closed it, she heard, “You never used to be a snoop, Tess York.”
Startled, she pushed away from the desk and stood. She fumbled for her crutches.
“Need some help?” he asked.
“Nope.”
He walked to her, his blue eyes glistening with mischief. “Find anything interesting?”
“Huh?”
“In my desk. When I came in you seemed fixated on something.”
“Spider.”
His brow lifted. “You saw a spider?”
“A big, black, hairy one,” she explained, knowing full well that he not only didn’t believe her, but thought her a total idiot as well. She let her head fall forward and blurted out the truth. “Okay, I was snooping and I saw the two pictures in there. I’m sorry, it was rude…”
He said nothing, and his expression was unreadable. Was he mad? Annoyed? Embarrassed? Who knew. He was giving nothing away. In fact, he changed the subject all together. “Hungry?”
“A little,” she said uneasily.
“Good. I’ve decided that we’re going to have lunch in your room.”
“Okay.” She actually wouldn’t mind putting her foot up again. The ache had returned.
He nodded. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. I’m going to shower first.”
Tess paused, and for the first time since Damien had found her at his desk, she really looked at him. From shoes to spiky hair. He had gunk all over him, all over his hands and clothes, probably a mixture of tile adhesive and grout. Her mouth twitched as she remembered him looking like this many a time. He was a man of labor once again.
He stared at her. “What?”
“What?” she returned innocently.
“What’s with the face? The grin?”
Was she grinning? That wasn’t good. “You just reminded me of this guy I knew a long time ago.”
“Really,” Damien said in a surly tone.
She nodded. “Yep. He’d always come to pick me up with his hands and face caked with paint or something equally gross.”
“Yeah, I remember that guy,” Damien said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “He used to be so damn excited to see you he’d forget to clean up before driving over to your house.”
“I let him use my shower, didn’t I?” Tess said, grinning.
Damien’s lips twitched with a faint smile. “You did more than that.”
Heat rushed into Tess’s cheeks, and she laughed. “Come on.”
He walked toward her, his gaze eating her up. “You were damn good at getting paint off and out of the most intimate of places.”
“I was a dedicated worker even then.”
“I’ll say.” Without a warning, he scooped her up. “Too bad you’ve got that bandage on. I could use a little help in the shower today.”
For one second she felt the urge to fight him, fight being in his arms. But the feeling quickly dissipated. She didn’t have to fight him or fear him. No matter what his motives were in making her come to Tribute and fix up the house, she knew in her heart, in her gut, that Damien Sauer would never make her feel like a frightened, trapped animal.
They were nearing the door to the library when Tess called out, “Wait. My crutches.”
“Nope. No crutches, no more getting out of bed.”
“Fine. I’ll just get Olin to swipe them for me. We’re like this now.” She crossed her fingers.
“Yeah, right.” Damien shifted her in his arms and kept right on walking. “Come on Tess, I need you healthy and walking and back on the job.”
Tess laughed as they headed down the hallway. “Manual labor getting to you already?”
“Tiling was never something I enjoyed. I liked the actual building, though.” He walked into the guest room and placed her on the bed. “You might find it hard to believe, but on my jobs in California I get in there from time to time and put walls up.”
“You’re right. I’d find that hard to believe.”
He narrowed his eyes with mock severity. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said sarcastically, fighting a smile.
“I know—but you’ll just have to.”
For the first time in a long, long time, Tess watched a man walk away, fully enjoying the view of his lean, hard backside as he went.
The last time they’d eaten in bed, they hadn’t made it past the salad.
Damien stared. And if Tess’s robe crept open any further, exposing the gentle slope of her breast any more, they weren’t going to make it very far today, either.
Lying on the bed, her hair loose and her face free of makeup, Tess held up her sandwich and announced, “This rivals Olivia’s Croque Monsieur.”
Damien grinned. “High praise?”
“The highest. This cream sauce is insane. And the ham…And these French fries,” she continued, lounging back against the dense pillows. “How are they made? They’re as light as a leaf.”
“If you really want to know, I’ll ask Marilynn.”
Tess paused, stared at him, her mass of red hair falling about her face. “I can’t believe you have a chef.”
“Is it that you can’t believe I have a chef or that I made enough money to afford one?”
She stopped eating, even put down her fry. Her eyes blazed with sincerity as she said, “I never doubted you’d be successful, Damien.”
“Hmm.” Why did he find that so hard to believe?
“It’s true. I never thought for one second you wouldn’t accomplish your goals and make a million.”
“Too bad a million wasn’t enough.” He knew he sounded like a spoiled ass, yet he didn’t attempt to apologize or take it back.
“You have the wrong idea about all of this,” she said, her food forgotten as her eyes filled with melancholy. “I didn’t care about money—I don’t care about it now. You know my history, Damien. Losing my parents so young, and having no other family to hang on to. It was brutal. I wasn’t ever looking for money. All I wanted was family, a comfortable life, a—”
“A safe life,” he finished for her.
“Yes. Safe was the ultimate prize to me, it’s what I felt I needed to be happy.”
“I wasn’t safe.”
“No, you weren’t. You were all about risk back then. Taking risks. And for you it paid off big-time, and I’m glad.”
He didn’t need her to be glad for him. He didn’t want her to be glad for him. “So you made your choice based on safety.”
“Yes.”
“And did that make you happy? Were you happy with him?”
The expression that passed over her face was quick but very telling. Pure, unadulterated revulsion.
Damien’s eyes narrowed. What the hell? What had happened when she’d left Minneapolis, when she’d left him? What had happened with the safe choice, Henry?
He was about to probe further when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Annoyed, he fairly shouted, “Come in.”
It was Olin, looking appropriately sheepish. “Sir?”
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s a problem with the house down the hill.”
“What it is?”
“There’s been a break-in.”
“What? At one in the afternoon?”
“The workmen had gone to lunch, and when they got back the door had been knocked in.”
Damien cursed. “By who?”
“A young lady,” Olin supplied.
He felt Tess’s gaze on him and he turned. A smile tugged at her full mouth and she lifted a brow at him. “Someone you know?”
“Doubtful,” Damien said testily. “The women I know would never follow me up here and break into one of my properties.”
“You sure about that?”
“Actually, Miss York,” Olin said quickly, not meeting her gaze. “The woman says she’s a friend of yours.”
Tess looked shocked. “What?”
Olin nodded. “She was brought here. She’s downstairs in the foyer. Shall I bring her up?”
Damien answered first. “Absolutely.”