Chapter Five
After seeing to the animals, Damian started a fire in the wood-burning stove and poured himself a much taller than was appropriate glass of whiskey before settling himself into the chair across from his couch. The couch where his runaway wife—perhaps soon-to-be ex-wife—lay sleeping.
A long pale pink strand of hair had tugged loose from her ponytail, falling across her cheek where a soft huff of breath occasionally lifted it from her face. He was mesmerized by that little length of her hair. In a strange way almost jealous of it. But instead of reaching across the table and tucking the cotton-candy-colored strand back behind her ear—because, let’s face it, he couldn’t really handle touching her again—he picked up his glass and swirled the amber liquid before drinking it down in one very aggressive gulp. He savored the bright burn down his throat and the immediate softening of fucking feelings.
Kendall mumbled in her sleep and rolled onto her back, kicking the blanket off and throwing her leg over the back of the couch.
Goddamn her. For coming back. For leaving in the first place. For getting hurt. For hurting him. But mostly for getting back under his skin and cracking his chest wide open. Without. Even. Trying.
When he’d called Carissa to postpone their date he could hear the disappointment in her voice, followed shortly thereafter by censure when he explained his reason for bailing. Clearly he had no right to be offended. Hell, he was technically a married man—he had no place dating anyone until he finally signed the divorce papers.
Automatically his eyes flicked to his desk sitting in the shadows against the far wall.
Damian checked his watch; it was after midnight. He should get his tired ass up out of this chair and get Kendall into his bed. Well, not that way. Okay, maybe that way.
Shit.
What did he want?
If he sat here staring at her like some weirdo creeper he certainly wasn’t acting like a pissed-off ex who couldn’t wait to get his pain-in-the-ass wife out of his hair for good. Nope. If he was being honest with himself, and it was more than time for that, he was still acting like that pathetic bastard who mooned over her for years while he had her and then more after she left.
“Damian…” Kendall’s voice was slurred from sleep and the sound was sweet with history.
“Yeah, baby?” The endearment came out automatically, just like the sweethearts he kept trying to unsuccessfully make sound condescending.
She turned to her side and propped her cheek on her palm. “What are you still doing up?”
“I had to make sure the animals were fed and locked up. Still need to keep an eye on the two pregnant does that seem ready to pop any minute. I also grabbed your clothes and put them in the bedroom.” He flicked his gaze toward the bedroom door. “I was getting ready to take you back there. I’ll settle in on the couch.” He stood and moved toward her at the same time she swung her legs to the floor and stood up.
“Dammit, Kendall.” He lunged forward when she wobbled. His hands found her shoulders dramatically though she didn’t seem to need much help. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
“I know you don’t want to.” She looked up defiantly. “I know you don’t want anything to do with me.”
“Don’t pretend you know what I want. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t growl at me, Damian Sloane. I’m trying to have a conversation with you. For once.”
“Look, sweetheart, you don’t set the rules anymore. The days of me following you around like a lovelorn puppy are over.”
“So basically you’re asserting your right to growl at me? You must feel so empowered.” She glared up at him and then slowly, deliberately rolled her eyes and sighed emphatically. “I’m fine. I can walk. In fact, a couple over-the-counter pain meds and I’ll be good to go.”
She tugged from his grasp and the heat in his veins burned. “Quit walking away from me,” he said, his voice perhaps a little louder than he’d intended, but it stopped her retreat. His words hung in the air between them so heavy and full of unspoken meaning. That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? How easy it was to literally and figuratively walk away from him. He was an idiot. An idiot making a big deal about nothing.
Slowly she turned, steady on her feet, and set her hands on her hips. “I’m just getting some water.”
He took a step toward her. “I can get you some water, Kendall.”
The corner of her mouth tipped up slightly. “Are you going to pee for me too, cowboy? Because that’s next up on the agenda.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hey, just giving you a heads-up.” She didn’t smile, but she did take the water and the two pills he handed her. She swallowed them down and set the glass back on the counter, then rubbed her hand over the marble.
She looked around the open room, her gaze landing on the built-in cabinets that took up the whole far wall of the cottage, and he suddenly felt heavy, frozen. Slowly she moved toward the wall, her hand almost mindlessly trailing along the counter, the old stuffed chair he’d bought on consignment in Davis two years before, and then the couch he’d bought new from an online supplier. It wasn’t exactly like the one they’d picked out together, but he suddenly realized how very close it actually was.
Standing in front of the rough-hewn shelves with her long striped ponytail a mess down her back, the angry pulse of Damian’s heart slowed and he was filled with a hollow longing, the very same one that plagued him the first couple years after she left. A deep echoing well of want and need—and instead of the answering rage that used to quell it, he felt only an aching sadness for him and this beautiful broken woman.
Without realizing it he had taken the few steps across the room to reach her side. For a long, swollen moment as her eyes skimmed the books he thought she might miss it, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was relieved or disappointed. But then she slowly raised her finger and pushed aside the fallen copy of a goat-breeding book and pressed into the unpainted wood at the back of the built-in.
She made a small sound, like a soft gasp or little sigh, and he turned to stare at her profile. So much beauty in such a feisty little package. She had been everything he’d ever wanted. But she had run from him, from their life here in Blackberry Cove.
She’s here now.
Though she’ll be gone again soon enough.
But maybe she wasn’t meant to be here. Maybe she really did have bigger and better things to do out in the world. Things that didn’t include a goat farmer and a family history of abandonment and disdainful neglect. Maybe he could love her while she was here and then let her go, give her back to the world when she was ready to leave.
Damian’s temples burned and the back of his throat felt lined in sandpaper. The thought of not holding on to his resentment and bitterness and actually giving her what she needed felt uncomfortable but right.
He looked back at her finger as it traced the carved heart in the wood and the roughly etched D and K just barely illuminated in the low light of the fire and the single lit lamp. He had never meant for her to see the old tree carving. Well, he had at one time. He’d had the idea in his head for a year or so before they were married. He’d planned to incorporate it into the redesign of the cottage. One day.
But then she turned to him and the look in her eyes was soft and haunted. He could take her anger—he knew what to do with that. Hell he just used it as fuel for his own rage and bitterness. Easy fucking peasy.
The darkness in those normally crystal blue eyes didn’t belong just to him. It was built and crafted over years, years of trying to get love from a family that didn’t know how to love. And then flip-flopping and acting like she didn’t give a shit about anything until him. And then stomping all over that. But for the first time he saw more.
This time he saw regret. So much that it made it hard to hold her gaze, made it harder to stay pissed. But he didn’t want to soften his jagged edges. He didn’t want her to soothe or smooth any of the bitterness he’d need for when she left again. Because this connection, this zing of energy when he touched her skin or was within a dozen feet of her wasn’t real. Not for her. And his salty anger was the only thing that kept him moving forward.
But that single tear that welled in her eye and stayed suspended for what seemed like hours finally became too swollen and ran down her cheek. God, she was so heartbreakingly beautiful.
And so not mine anymore.
Damian wanted to kiss that fucking tear away and then lift her into his arms and screw the darkness out of her, out of himself. He reached out and cupped her delicate jaw in his hand, wiping away the wetness with his thumb. But before he could kiss her or lift her into his arms, she gave him a soft smile and wrapped her cool hand around his wrist.
“I’m so very sorry,” she whispered. “For everything.” Her eyes never left his.
“You were my life, Kendall.” Horrified at the shake in his voice, he dropped his hand and took a step back. He wouldn’t let her drag him down this road. The road where she told him her ridiculous reason for fucking up their lives—well his life anyway since hers seemed to have taken off like a rocket ship—and he was supposed to forgive her. Then they’d bang and she’d go back to her glam rock star life and he’d go back to his pathetic excuse for a life.
“I never wanted to hurt you. I only…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I thought I was giving you back your life.”
“Bullshit.” He practically spat the word. But her eyes didn’t squint in signal of an oncoming rage, they just looked more sunken. Shadowed. “You did what you did because you’re selfish. And a coward.”
She took a step closer to him, erasing the space he’d put between them. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her lips parted as if she might disagree with him, but then she closed them again. She nodded. “Yes. I am. I’m all that and more.”
Dammit. She was tearing him apart all over again with those sad eyes.
“What do you want from me, Kendall? I told you I’d buy you out. And I will. I’ll take care of you while you’re here. But I can’t give you anything else. I can’t give you what I don’t have.”
She nodded and moved toward the kitchen without a limp. Her foot was obviously already healing. “I would take whatever you had to give.” And against his will and his better judgment he felt his blood turn hot and his traitorous dick go half hard. This woman and her words. Even after everything she’d put him through, her unintended double meaning could flip his switch from off to on in an instant.
“I can only give you tonight,” he said not fully meaning it. Knowing that one night with his wife would never be enough, but it was all they would get. Slowly he held his hand out, palm up.
*
If Kendall was honest with herself, honesty being a relatively new concept she was still getting fully acquainted with, she would have to admit that she never expected Damian to reach for her with anything other than irritation in his eyes. No, she might have dreamed it over and over and in vivid detail just about every night since she left him, but she’d never thought he would.
But there he was, the one man she’d ever loved, holding out his hand to her, giving her the choice to put her hand in his. And it wasn’t anything close to love in his eyes, but it wasn’t irritation. And it was the promise of lying under him for one night, showing him with her body that she’d never loved another and never would.
That thick band tightened around her chest when she realized what it was.
Lust.
Damian wanted her. Maybe not in the same way she wanted him, but hell if she wasn’t going to take another opportunity to be in his arms again. She’d deal with the fallout of it all tomorrow…and probably every day after that.
Tonight, she would show him with her body what she had never been brave enough to tell him. That despite his pure love for her, she’d been a coward at the root of it all. And just like a cavity, that rot had spread and infected the whole of her. She knew it would have been a matter of time before it destroyed him too. And he had been the one good thing she’d ever had or done.
There was no way she would ruin that.
No. Way.
She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Maybe tonight she could love him enough for the both of them. She would have no expectations and not be afraid to give him everything…and then walk away. But maybe this time it would be with her head held high and not scurrying off in the middle of the night with her tail between her legs.
Taking a step closer she put her hand in his palm and watched as his rough work-worn fingers closed around it.
“I don’t expect—”
“Stop.” He put his fingers over her mouth and they weren’t just warm, they were on fire, fire that shot directly from her mouth to her core and between her legs. And that tight band squeezed tighter and tighter until it snapped. Before she could think about what she was doing she pressed her body up against Damian’s and wrapped her free hand around his neck. She took a second to breathe him in, the natural scent of a man mixed with the comfort of the land he worked like it was his religion, and to appreciate his long, tall body and how hers just fit with his despite their significant height difference. She’d always felt like she was vertically challenged until she was in Damian’s arms where she fit perfectly, the nut to his screw.
When his hands reached down and curved around her butt she took a deep breath. She was going all in. He leaned down and her eyes fluttered shut—it was too much. He was too much and the air was too thick with the tension between them and the murky fog of their history. When his lips touched hers, they were soft, full. He didn’t devour her like he had before. Well he did, but much, much slower.
The butterflies in her belly liquefied and slowly slid down into the V between her legs. When his mouth finally touched hers it was firm and soft but less insistent, less forceful than their kisses before. Her hand shook as they moved from the back of his neck around to the front of his face, his scruffy sweet face. He kissed her so painfully sweetly that it almost hurt. No, it did hurt but in that decadent, lazy, deep way that also felt so addictively good.
Damian’s fingers gripped harder on her flannel-covered bottom, biting into her skin. She hoped he’d leave marks, evidence of his touch that she could look at in the mirror and run her fingers over, remembering her last time with her husband. As he lifted her up, her legs automatically encircled his waist. Just like they always did. Muscle memory was a bitch.
No. She wasn’t going there. Not this time. Kendall knew what this was all about. This was her last chance, her final shot at love—no not love, that was done and this thing between them was always going to be one-sided. This was lust. This was an opportunity to say goodbye for real. For good.
With the strength that had always astonished her, impressed her, made her feel so safe, he continued to kiss her as he walked her back toward the couch. She tried to ignore the pinch of disappointment that pooled in her chest when she realized he wasn’t taking her to his bed.
But, she reminded herself, she would take what he was willing to give. She would take it and stuff it away and bring it back out when inevitably the road got rough and the loneliness got too bleak.
When he turned them and sat on the couch with her straddling his lap, Damian moved his hands to her hips and pulled back. When he didn’t say anything Kendall opened her eyes to find him staring at her. She knew he found her lacking, that he could see all the ugliness that was covered by her pink hair and contrived exterior. He knew what she was. He always had.
A fraud. A fake from the most broken of dysfunctional families. He was probably thinking what a big mistake he’d made offering her his hand. Damian was no fool. He was better than her and always had been.
“Are you sure you’re not in pain?” he asked. Her surprise must have shown on her face because the corner of his mouth turned up with just a hint of a smile. “What? You thought I was going to turn down a hot woman in my lap?”
“Well you were on your way to a date earlier.” She shrugged.
“Kendall, we’re not talking about anything except this right here.” He squeezed her hips and gave her a pointed look. “But we will talk. Later.”
What was left to talk about? He would have never understood why she left four years ago, any more than he would now. What did it matter anyway? What’s done was done. Nothing good ever came from the truth. Only heartache and disappointment.
But she wanted this night with him. She suspected it might actually hinge on her agreement to discuss the past. And didn’t Damian deserve some answers, some closure? A path to take. Her heart stuttered at the thought of him of moving on. With someone else.
Tamping down her fear, Kendall simply nodded. She could give him that. Hell, it’s the least she could give him.
Damian’s answering grin was so far from happy and so close to predatory that Kendall wondered if she’d survive one more night with her husband, with the man she thought of as her soul mate. If he’d end up blasting apart the few remaining chunks of her dilapidated shields.
But then he kissed her again and she was lost in the slick slide of his tongue against hers.