I use Damien’s master bathroom to clean up, wiping his juices off my breasts with a towel he gave me.

Holy hell, that was hot.

I never thought in a million years I would actually be turned on by a guy doing something that dirty.

But with Damien...everything the man does turns me on.

My mind flashes back to the image of his long, girthy cock inches from my face as he stroked it. I wanted so badly to reach out and give him a helping hand. Maybe a helping tongue, too.

Somehow, I restrained myself from running my hands over his cock, and rubbing my hand up his rock hard flat stomach. But I couldn’t help impulsively telling him to come on my tits.

My boobs clean, I lean down into the sink bowl, splashing my face with water.

The truth is, when I saw Damien naked and exposed to me, my problems with Nick melted away. I came to his apartment nearly in a panic state. But he instantly put me at ease.

Still, my head throbs as I think back on the encounter with Nick in the grocery store. Wondering if Damien has Advil, I open the rightmost mirror to see what he’s got on the shelf.

I’m confused by what I see.

I pull it out.

Why on Earth would Damien have women’s lipstick?

I take off the top, and find it's a bright, bright shade of red.

Anxiety wells up in my chest cavity as I stare at it, flabbergasted.

"Towel working okay?" Damien's voice booms as he opens the door, and I close the cabinet and shoot my arms behind my back to hide the lipstick just before Damien comes into view.

He grins as he walks toward me.

"I just finished washing up," I say. "It was a lot. You're a very...potent man," I say with a cheery look.

He smiles, tipping my chin up toward me. "You bring it out in me, so to speak."

He winks and then kisses me on the lips. I savor his taste, but the truth is my mind is wandering to the lipstick behind my back.

Why on Earth would a man have that?

Has he crossdressed in the past?

Is there another woman?

I kiss him fiercely, angrily, all of a sudden.

In this moment, I'm not me anymore. I'm doing an imitation of myself kissing Damien without reservation. It's a little sad that I'm an expert at pretending in relationships after all the time I spent with Nick.

But then again, don't I have my shameful secrets too? Maybe I'm just not meant to know a person through and through.

I bite Damien's lower lip as I pull away from him.

"Holy hell, what's gotten into you?" Damien asks.

"What do you mean?" I counter.

"You just seem really...feisty right now."

"I've been known to be feisty. You better get used to it. And hey, would you mind starting to chop the onions and tomatoes for the chili? I'll be done in here in a second."

"Of course, Sweetheart."

"Thanks."

He leaves the bathroom, and I pull on my clothes. I uncap the lipstick once more out of sheer curiosity. Goddamn. I've never seen anything such a deep shade of red. It looks as if it was fashioned by the devil himself.

I put it back on the shelf exactly where I found it, close the cabinet, and head back outside to the dining room, where Damien is already chopping up the onions with a huge knife.

I sigh softly.

Maybe all relationships are just destined to have their secrets.

“Thanks for the surprise visit,” Damien says, without looking up. “Just for the record, you’re welcome to do that again, anytime.”

I open up another one of the bags and take out the ground beef.

“Maybe next time I’ll leave my door half open,” I wink, but my mind flashes to the reality of that situation and my shoulders sink.

“What’s the matter?” Damien arches an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“Really? You just did a thing.” He imitates my loud sigh and slumping shoulders, grinning.

“Okay, fine. I did a ‘thing.’ It doesn’t mean anything.”

He stops chopping and his expression turns serious. “Everything means something. What are you thinking about?”

I clear my throat. Might as well get it out in the open. “I’m thinking about how I can’t leave my door open, ever. I’d be too scared.”

His dark eyes squint my way. “Too scared? And would that be for any specific reason? Or just in general?”

“Uh, just in general,” I lie.

He cocks his head, leaning forward on the kitchen island. Damien is still shirtless, and it’s quite distracting.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I pick up the chopped onion and put it into the big pot, adding spices and olive oil to sauté it.

“I ran into Nick at the grocery store,” I admit. “Or more accurately, I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious?” He glides over to me and touches my shoulder. “How the hell did he know you were at the grocery store?”

I give a ‘I don’t know’ shrug, lowering my eyes.

“That’s not fucking okay!” He raises his voice. “He can’t fucking do that. He can’t just follow you around like that.”

“Well he’s doing it,” I say. “And I can’t stop him.”

“Yes you can,” He says, pulling me into him. I put my hand on the flesh of his tattoed, still warm chest. In his arms, I feel safe.

“How?”

“Simple. Block his phone and social media accounts. Change your number if neccesary.”

“He knows where I live.”

“You can get a restraining order if the guy won’t leave you alone.”

“That seems a little extreme,” I protest. “Getting the law involved?”

He exhales, letting go of me. “Extreme? You know what’s fucking extreme? Showing up to someone’s house at eight a.m. You know what’s even more extreme? Stalking someone to the grocery store. What did he say anyway?”

I shift my focus back to the chili, tossing in the cubed ground beef and stirring it. “He said he wants to get back together with me.”

“And you said…”

“I told him to fuck off! But he doesn’t understand no.”

Damien shakes his head as he opens the can of tomatoes. “Well you need to make it very fucking clear that you are not interested. And a good way to start would be by not making him breakfast when he comes over.”

My jaw drops, and I let the wooden spoon fall.

“How did you know I made him breakfast?” I huff. “How would you know that?”

“Because I listened to your conversation after you left. I admit it.”

“You eavesdropped? How could you?” I say.

Damien calmly drops the rest of the canned tomatoes into the pot, and picks out the wooden spoon. “Look at things from my perspective. I have a one night stand with you and I like you. But I don’t know your history with this guy. And he’s coming in at eight in the morning reeking of alcohol. Who knows what drugs he was on? I had to watch out for you.”

I put my hands on my hips and step up to him. “You are being awfully cavalier about spying on me!”

“I was protecting you.”

“So I can’t protect myself?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just…”

“Just what? What are you not telling me?”

My emotions cascade out of control. I’ve been hurt by an impulsive liar too many times to count, and I’m not going to start this relationship off on that foot—with a guy who won’t make his full intentions known.

“I’ve told you everything you’ve ever asked me!” he says, his voice gruff. He holds out his hand and counts off. “I told you I was a male stripper. I admitted I was eavesdropping on you. I’m not trying to hide it! It’s because I care about you.”

I nod slowly, processing his words. I swallow. ‘Because I care about you’ was Nick’s logic for doing many things, too.

“Well then,” I say slowly. “Why don’t you tell me why you have women’s lipstick in your medicine cabinet?”

His eyes widen, and then narrow. As he stands less than a foot from me I can feel the heat emanating from his body. And it’s not just from the chili.

“Why. The. Fuck. Would you look. In my. Medicine cabinet?” he huffs, backing me up into the kitchen island.

I swallow, suddenly scared.

I’ve got secrets. Maybe Damien’s got them too.

Maybe his are even bigger than mine.

“I-I-I was looking for some Advil,” I stutter, lowering my eyes to the floor. “And I couldn’t help but notice it.”

“You do not go through my shit without permission. Do you understand?”

“Why are you being so guarded now?” I shoot back, bringing my eyes to his. “Weren’t you the one who was just saying we should tell each other our secrets? Get to know each other on a whole other level?”

He places his muscled arms on either side of me on the marble island.

My heart hammers heart in my chest, and instinctively I put my hand over it. I feel like I just put myself out there. I just let this man—no, begged him—to come on my chest, only to find five minutes later that he’s a lying liar along the lines of Nick?

Fuck this shit. Fuck it all to hell.

Damien’s eyes gloss over. He seems unfocused and in a far away reality, looking over my shoulder, gazing at nothing in particular.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” I say softly, trying to hold back the tears welling up inside me. “So that’s it then? It’s another woman. When did you have her over? Did you just sleep with me and then have her over the next night?” There’s venom in my voice, and when the words come out, I instantly regret them.

Mostly.

I can’t help word vomiting everything I’m thinking right now, though. Damien and I have been fast and furious, like a damn meteor. I’ve felt things for him I’ve never felt for another man in my life. But if this isn’t meant to be, if we’re not even a week in and we’re already living a lie, there’s no sense in me censoring myself.

Damien doesn’t move. He’s inches from me, and I can hear his breath, taste his lips on my tongue still. I glance down his torso, zooming in on every tattoo, every rippling muscle, every vein. Damn the man for being so sexy. He lured me in like a moth to a flame, and this is the moment I burn up.

“I should go then,” I whisper, trying to slide under Damien’s arms.

“Wait,” he growls, and I freeze.

“It’s my sister’s,” he finally says.

My jaw falls, and I’m disgusted. “Bullshit. You just spaced out for like two minutes to come up with that lie. You didn’t even tell me you had a sister!”

“I don’t,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Not anymore, at least.”

“Not any...more?” My tone softens.

“She passed away years ago after a guy followed her home, busted in her place, and...I don’t want to talk about this. But the week before that she left her lipstick in my medicine cabinet. I haven’t had the heart to touch it, let alone move it.” He raises his elbow to me, his rose tattoo prominent.

“Her name was Rose,” he adds.

“Oh,” I whisper, the air whooshing out of me like I’m a deflating balloon. Suddenly, I feel sick. I feel awful. I look into his eyes, and they’re glossed over, his eyes still looking over the shoulder at some inanimate object, unfocused. I’ve looked into the eyes of liars. Specifically, I looked into Nick’s eyes for years while he lied to my face.

These are not the eyes of a lying man.

“I’m sorry,” I choke. “I had no idea.” I rub my hands on his chest. It’s hot to the touch.

“You had no way of knowing,” he growls, taking my hand and gazing back into my eyes. When he does, I feel the life breathed back into me, like he just gave me a slice of my soul back.

“Just don’t make assumptions about me. And I won’t make any about you. And for God’s sake, if you see something that freaks you out about me, don’t hide it. Just tell me. I’m not perfect—I promise you that. There’s still stuff you don’t know about me. But I’m not purposefully trying to hide anything. I also promise you that.”

Just then, he takes hold of the nape of my neck, exhales, and kisses me intensely.

I moan, his kiss a sweet relief to my aching heart.

“I want you, Krista. I need you now,” he growls into my ear. “I want to taste you.”

“The chili…” I whisper.

“Fuck the chili.”

His hand searches for the buckle of my jeans, and he opens and unzips them.

“Damien,” I mutter, running my hand along his back.

“I said, FUCK the chili,” he reiterates, then lifts me up to the kitchen island like I’m as light as a feather.

My resistance fades, and I lift my hips to help him get my jeans off. My ass cheeks feel cold on the marble kitchen island. He pulls my shoes off first, then takes the jeans off one ankle at a time.

“What are you going to do to me?” I say.

Wrapping my hair in his hand, he pulls my head back and exposes my neck.

“I’m going to make your toes curl and your body shudder,” he responds.

“What about the ten dates?” I protest meekly, wrapping my hand around his forearm.

“We said no sex. We didn’t say anything about you fucking my face, Sweetheart.”

I close my eyes and my hips quake as he slips my panties out from under my thighs, and I’m naked from the waist down. “You’re going to...oh God,” I murmur, and he slowly works kisses from one of my ankles up to my thighs, so close to my throbbing clit, and then he starts again on the other ankle—licking and kissing me slowly.

I swear, minutes pass while he teases me. I lean back, propping myself up on my elbows so I can watch him. His lips are soft, but his day-old beard is a little rough as it brushes against my legs. Sliding his hands up the tops of my legs, he takes hold of my hands.

He interlocks my fingers in his, and in spite of the dirty things he’s doing with his tongue, it’s this little gesture that sets me over the edge.

“Stop teasing me,” I beg. “Please just do it.”

He glances up at me with a cocky grin. “Oh? Do what? Do this?”

As he slides his tongue on my skin closer to my opening, goosebumps rise up on my limbs.

Finally, he lands between my legs, flicking his tongue gently on my clit.

“Mmmm,” he groans, the reverberations of his deep voice vibrating through my body.

Leaning forward, I grab hold of his hair and massage his head as he tongues me. Waves of pleasure shoot through me and I squeeze my thighs around him, almost involuntarily, and I worry if it’s too hard, if he can take it.

Wrapping my legs around his head seems to spur him on, not stop him, though. He wraps his hands around my thighs as he licks me deep.

I pant, searching for my release.

I let go.

The minutes pass.

He does. Not. Let Up.

The seas part. I reach the oasis and the promised land.

I let go of it all.

The stress and the fight and the baggage, and the past, and it's just me and Damien.

Take me there, Damien.

Take me there.

I utter incoherent things as he laps me up hungrily, my hips grinding into him. My mouth etched into a permanent “O” shape, I savor the thrill of the moment. The heat of his tongue. The cold of the marble. The softness of his hair on my palm.

Just then, my phone buzzes in my purse on the island. It rings once, and I ignore it. Twice.

“Damien,” It’s probably work. I should get it.”

“Fuck work,” is all he says, his pause momentary.

Somewhere in a corner of my mind, a part that hasn’t turned to mush, I rationalize that maybe it’s work calling. Maybe they’re calling me off. I want to know. I’d rather stay here with Damien all night then go back in.

When the phone rings again, I answer it.

“Hello,” I say, my voice coming out all sleepy.

“Hello Krista,” the voice says, and I clench up.

It’s fucking Nick. I try to hang up immediately, but I don’t, and instead I put him on speaker.

Right as Damien does something with his tongue that forces me to unleash a loud moan.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nick barks.

“I’m...I’m...busy right now,” I manage to say, fumbling the phone in my hand. My voice sounds like I’m on vacation, in a place far, far away.

And in one manner of speaking, I am.

Pleasure town: population this girl.

“I have to go,” I tell Nick, finally getting a handle on the phone and taking it off speaker. “Bye.”

One millisecond before I hang up, he barks into the receiver again. “You better not do that!”

Damien pushes two fingers inside me, and I clench around him. His tongue still on my clit, he takes me to that promised land.

My mind is everywhere and nowhere. I let go of the phone and it lands on the counter with a thud.

I come. I come so hard I can’t control the trembling in my hips. Damien’s growls ignite me and I’m gone. God damn does he know how to handle that tongue as he hits the spot. I can’t help the soft cries leaving my lips.

Before I even have a chance to come back down to earth, Damien gets up from his knees, looking positively devilish.

I lie on the counter, my chest heaving. I’m weak. I’m woozy. And I’m completely satisfied.

Damien picks up my phone.

“Nick...Yeah...Don’t fucking call this number again....Or try to see her again...it’s fucking over…Yeah? Well fuck you too.”

He hangs up, and tosses the phone on the couch.

“He’s been blocked. Now how about that chili?”