Touch Me In The Morning Read online

  “No, of course not, but this gives me peace of mind. I owe you.”

  “Payback?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t expect payback from anybody.”

  “I know.” Suddenly she felt something strange bubbling inside of her. Damon did nice things because he was a kind man, and she loved – no, liked, liked – him. Why shouldn’t she desire to shed him of his misconception? “I want to help you out, but there’s something in it for me, too.” She eased into a friendly smile, hoping to relax him. “I’m dying to see your muscles in the raw.”

  His gaze scanned her body. “You’re so perfect. Not everybody is.”

  “I’ll have stretch marks after I give birth! Should I hide myself?”

  “Stretch marks aren’t the same thing.”

  Heaven hated the look on his face. She couldn’t even define it. Sadness? Not exactly. Horror? Maybe. She reached for her blouse and threw it on, buttoning it quickly.

  “What are you doing?”

  She shrugged, watching her fingers. “If you look at yourself so closely, what must you really think of me?” She smoothed down her blouse.

  “I said you were perfect.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Damon stared off towards the sun, low on the horizon, unseeing. She watched his face in the twilight, the bronzed skin almost golden, the already well-balanced features softening under dimmer light.

  “Damon?”

  “He’d come after me with knives, scissors, other sharp objects – and of course those lit cigarettes.” His far away voice sent chills down her spine. She barely breathed as he continued. “Usually – at night when I was in my room. I tr-tried to be good d-during the day. He’d find reasons to go after me anyway. I fought him, but I – I was just a kid and he was – big and muscular, like me.”

  Heaven felt a lump in her throat as she scooted closer to him. He sat, frozen, in the grass. She put both palms on his shoulder and rested her chin on top of her hands. As she spoke, her words drifted into his ear, fluffing the hairs around it. “Did your mother know how badly he abused you?”

  “She knew.”

  “Did she try to stop him?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  Damon shrugged. “I t-tell myself she was afraid of him. I don’t want to think she didn’t care enough t-to try to protect me.”

  Heaven kissed his neck. “Did he do this to Aiden, too?”

  “I took most of Aiden’s abuse.”

  “Show me, Damon. I’m your friend.”

  He averted his eyes. In slow motion, he stood up, hands on his hips. Heaven rose after him, her growing stomach making her slightly awkward. “Damon?” She closed the small gap between them and hugged him, pressing the side of her head against his wide, muscled chest. The silky material of his jersey covered his flesh, but she could feel his power. She barely reached his chin, so she nuzzled underneath it, the top of her hair grazing the stubble emerging since his morning shave.

  Without a word, he let go of her, turned around and pulled his jersey over his head, tossing it to the ground. Then he turned back, only a single twitch in his jaw betraying any emotion.

  Heaven tried to swallow; couldn’t.

  He looked surreal, like a statue of a Greek God.

  He tanned himself privately, she thought, because his body glimmered with rich gold. Solid, hard muscles rolled on his shoulders, upper arms and chest, tapering to a trim abdomen and waist. A soft dusting of dark hair curled gently on his upper torso then funneled into his shorts and beyond where she could see.

  His powerfully built legs appeared long, brown and athletic. She’d seen his legs before, but not with his shirt off at the same time. This was as close as she’d come to seeing him unclad and it made her, shockingly, wonder how he looked naked. The idea both excited and frightened her. She blinked it out of her mind.

  Heaven gazed at his chest. He seemed exposed and vulnerable. Marring his perfect countenance were many cigarette burns and long, ragged lines, faded with time. She had the urge to run her fingers along one of the scars to let him know he was still beautiful.

  “I’d turn away, but it’s the same on my back.” His dry voice betrayed him as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards for a second.

  She shifted her gaze to his eyes and saw…what? Fear? Damon Steele afraid?

  “I’ll put my shirt back on.” His eyes flashed bitter self-hatred. “I know…”

  “No! You’re – magnificent!” It blurted out.

  Damon flinched and quieted, surprise on his face.

  Heaven stepped forward and threw her arms around him, and his hot, bare flesh scorched her body. As her arms hugged him, her cheek brushed against his springy soft chest hairs. The temperature seemed to rise and her forehead broke out in a sweat. She snuggled into the smooth skin and hard muscle that comprised Damon Steele.

  “You’re gorgeous,” she whispered. She turned her head to kiss his chest, over a scar, and spoke into him. “The marks take nothing away from you.” She hugged him harder, aware that he hadn’t touched her yet.

  “Heaven, you d-don’t have to put on this sort of act!” Damon spoke through harsh breathing.

  She refused to let go of him. “I’m not a good actress.”

  He let out a breath and her head sunk further into his chest. After several seconds, she felt his arms lightly wrapping around her back. They stood like that for a moment, then his hand moved quickly and dug into her hair, fisting in it as he nudged her face upwards. “Look into my eyes.” He spoke it as a command, reminding her of her early days with him.

  She obeyed him gladly. She loved staring into his eyes.

  Damon stood tall and proud, his dark hair whipping across his forehead in the wind, his sensual, wide mouth set. She bit her lip. He couldn’t make her watch him from so short a distance and not allow her to kiss him. It wasn’t fair…

  “Swear to me you aren’t lying about my scars.” His voice bit.

  “I’m not. Don’t you believe me?” She tried to sound hurt.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he put one powerful arm around her back and one around her waist, pulling her towards him. His head bent over her, and he lowered his face. “I’ll see if you mean it,” he said, just before they touched.

  When his lips took hers, they did so with greed and intensity, crushing her mouth to his. He thrust his tongue between her teeth and drank in her juices, his breath coming fast, his urgency sending cold and hot ripples through every cell in her body.

  His lips moved all around hers…top, bottom, corners…and he seemed to steal every bit of air from her lungs when he covered her mouth again. In spite of his harsh handling, she felt desperate to cling as near to him as possible.

  As their bodies pressed, she felt the large bulge in the front of his shorts. She wondered what it looked like. No harm in looking, as long as he didn’t try to…

  He pulled back from her abruptly, stiffening, his eyes staring emerald and blackness at her, burning right through her soul. “Well, you d-don’t seem revolted.”

  She laughed at the absurdity and shook her head.

  He tried to remain harsh, but she saw him faltering. Eventually, his eyes softened and he held her at arm’s length, glancing down at himself. “A few women made a fuss over them.” His strong fingers dug into her shoulders. “There are so many scars.”

  She traced a long, jagged scar with her finger. “Battle scars.” She grabbed his chin and made him look at her. “Don’t let anybody make you feel ashamed of taking your shirt off.” As she spoke, her eyes scanned his body and she suddenly felt a tightening in her belly and a tingling sensation in her most private area… It scared her. It intrigued her.

  She wanted to see him naked. She wanted to touch him. No, that could be dangerous.

  His clear emerald eyes shimmered at her. “When I first saw you, you reminded me of an angel. It’s more obvious now.” He bent to his knees, pulling her tenderly to hers. His dimples
flashed at her, and then he planted soft kisses in her hair, across her brow, on her nose, over her lip… The strange, pleasant, scary, great, appalling sensations continued… She felt lightheaded. Was she ill? No, this had to be how a woman felt under the spell of the man that she loved.

  Loved? No.

  “Damon.” His name rolled off her tongue like a gentle caress. “How do you make me weak?”

  He parted her blouse, placing one large hand behind her head and the other around her back. His head remained low, in between her neck and breasts. When he spoke, her body vibrated. “I like t-to make sure the woman is ready. That way it’s wonderful for b-both.”

  A chuckle tickled her skin and paralyzed her already aroused body. “When you scream for me, I know I’ve done a g-good job.” He kissed her just beneath her chin and she shuddered. This did feel wonderful…a bit too wonderful…

  Gavin’s contorted face flashed before her eyes. “Open up already, bitch!”

  She blinked his image away, her heart in her throat. “Gavin,” she mumbled, her pleasure fading to fear. “Gavin!”

  “Forget Gavin t-tonight, Love.” Damon’s voice calmed her as he lay beside her. His hands danced over her skin while his mouth teased her ear. She arched her back to quiet the longing between her thighs. She wanted him. God help her, she wanted him.

  But it hurt. No, it more than hurt. Sometimes she’d felt as if Gavin had ripped her apart.

  “Don’t say his name again. I’m starting t-to feel insulted.” Damon’s voice hummed against her earlobe. He was kidding, but she jumped.

  “I didn’t realize I’d said it again.”

  “You did.” He stole her lips, moaning into her mouth and she tried putting Gavin aside.

  Damon’s kisses were heaven. He pressured her lips at just the right time, then pulled back and kissed her gently. His tongue swept through her mouth with hardness, yet velvet. She loved his taste – faint cinnamon and raw male. As he deepened their kiss, his fingers untangled from her hair and slid down her face. Seconds later, he glided to her breast, playing with her tender flesh until it hardened and she ached for him once more. Soon she’d be screaming for him to enter her, like he’d said others had...then he’d enter her and it would hurt.

  Damon had rolled to his side. He held her hand in his. “Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not.” But her cheeks were wet.

  “Heaven?” Damon’s worried voice seemed miles away. Planets away.

  Her hand seemed to move on its own. Fascinated and terrified, she gripped his erection and gasped, as did he. The silky fabric of his shorts hid the texture, but not its size. She could hardly get her fist around it. It was glorious. It could hurt her.

  Damon was twice the size of Gavin, and she wanted him. No, she ached for him. She felt her belly tighten as the throbbing between her thighs begged for him to…She let go of him and stared into the face of a God. He was so gorgeous, so sexual, and she wanted him so much…

  No, she had to stop this now. He was a danger to her. He was a man, like Gavin, with the same ability to hurt her. Yet she craved him with every part of her body…every part…and the craving mixed with emotions that almost felt like love…Love fought with hate. She loved the person, Damon Steele. She hated his power over her body. She wanted him near him. She needed him away from her. What had she started?

  “No more!” A strangled cry erupted from her throat. “I can’t!”

  A gentle hand gripped her forearm. “Sweetheart…”

  “No! He used to call me that! No!”

  His eyes glimmered with the softness of a gently rippling sea. Lord, how she loved him…no! That scared her even more. She couldn’t fall in love! Not with Damon, the man who wanted no children.

  “No!” She pushed him away and shot to her feet. She didn’t want to leave, which was why she had to.

  He rose and grabbed her shoulders. “What did I do?” He looked so hurt and so ungodly gorgeous. His hands upon hers sent heat waves in dangerous places.

  She stared at him, trembling under his stare, her knees turning to jelly.

  “Heaven, what’s wrong?” Why did he have to be so nice?

  “I have to get away. I have to – this is scaring me. You’re scaring me. I…” With a strangled cry, she started running towards the house. She only glanced over her shoulder once.

  Damon stood there, staring at her, a wounded look on his face.

  She slammed into the house and ran up the stairs to hide.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Heaven threw herself on her bed and curled into fetal position. Dear God, she thought, as she bit the heel of her palm. Why did she desire someone who could harm her in so many ways?

  “Heaven, let me in!” The doorknob rattled.

  “Go away! Please!” She needed time to herself, to think, to regain her wits.

  “No!”

  “Yes!”

  “I took my damn shirt off for you! Is that it? When you looked again you c-couldn’t handle it?” The intensity of his words shook her up. Did he really believe that? “It’s not you! Just go away!” She shouted, angry with him for following her, angry at how he mesmerized her.

  “Bullshit! Look, I’ll p-put my fucking shirt back on! I won’t s-subject you t-to my hideous scars again.”

  “Damon, it’s not that. I’m…”

  “Don’t lie!” He shouted back at her. “I know how bad I look! When you c-come out, my marks will be hidden! I’ll leave you alone now.”

  “No!” She couldn’t let him nurture this falsehood. “Damon, let’s talk.” She ran to the door and opened it to see him descending the stairs.

  “You misunderstood, Damon!” He didn’t even glance at her. She went back to her room, tired and depressed. She wouldn’t get him to talk until he was ready. She knew his moods. She lay down, muttering, “You really screwed that up.”

  She heard footsteps climbing the stairs, and didn’t move. A heartbeat later, her door creaked open. She kept her eyes closed, her pulse racing.

  “Sorry for stalking off, like a jerk.”

  Damon’s soft voice made her tear up. “Me, too. I didn’t run off because of your scars.” She drew in a shaky breath and looked at him then. “I love how you look without your shirt.”

  “May I stay?” he asked moving toward the bed.

  She nodded and looked away, embarrassed.

  The Damonress gave a little when he sat on the edge of the bed. “If you d-didn’t run from me because of how I look, why won’t you look at me?”

  At once, she gazed up at him. How could he not realize his appeal? He couldn’t have looked better if her imagination had conjured him up. Beside him, she was slowly losing her senses. “Do you need me to tell you again how beautiful you are?” she asked, feeling so much tenderness towards him. Forcing a grin, she attempted to tease him out of his seriousness. “Think I want to make you a conceited ass?” She watched his slow smile break through and held out her arms to him. He fell into her embrace, ending up halfway on top of her, nestling his face in her hair.

  “Flowers,” he mumbled as he inhaled. Then his voice sobered. “Why d-did you run?”

  His overpowering male essence surrounded her. She understood the reason now. “I ran because I scared myself. I – wanted you too much – and I remembered Gavin – how he hurt me. That’s really it.” She started to tremble; her body reacted to his intoxicating maleness.

  He lifted his head and stared at her. “You were scared – b-because you desired me?”

  She nodded against the pillow while he caressed her cheek with such heated gentleness, that she caught her breath. Her fear still lurked in the background flashing back to her as her body responded to him. “Unfortunately, I desire you to the point that I don’t trust myself. Remember you said that sometimes women scream for you?”

  He nodded, understanding in his eyes.

  Aware of her sizzling body, she shuddered to seek just a little relief. “If I touch you, the way I want to, I’m a
fraid I’ll lose control of myself and beg you to take me. And if I ask, I’m afraid you’ll do it.”

  Eventually her words seemed to settle in his mind and make sense. “In other words, you want to t-touch me, but you d-don’t want penetration. Gavin hurt you so that scares you.”

  A lump clogged her throat. Lord, but she lov – liked him. She tightened her grip around his body. Her body started to shake, and a lifetime of holding her feelings poured out of her. “He raped me, Damon. I never use that word, but that’s what he did, repeatedly.” As she spoke between sobs, he kissed her face and smoothed her hair, then rolled them to their sides, hugging her. “He hurt me so much…I can’t…even if I want…he raped me, so I may never be able to take any man…that way again…oh, Damon, it’s so humiliating to be raped, and the more I fought him, the more he liked it.” He held her as she let the tears flow until she didn’t seem to have anymore. Exhausted, she closed her eyes against his chest.

  “On my word of honor,” he finally said, into her ear, “I will never d-do more to you than you want.” He kissed the side of her face. “It’s s-such a compliment that a lovely, sweet woman like you even wants me – it’s all on your t-terms.”

  She never wanted to let him go.

  “You never have t-to be afraid of me.”

  “I believe you. I trust you.”

  “I value that.” He spoke to her in a soothing voice. “Certainly you remember, from times before Gavin, that a man’s t-touch is usually nice.”

  Now she had to tell him. She coughed on a sob. “I have nobody but Gavin to refer back to, Damon. Nobody touched me intimately before him.” She watched him wince in surprise and her face flamed.

  “You waited all those years for Mr. Right, and then got him. That’s a shame.”

  “I wanted a one and only, and I got him. I doubt I’ll ever allow another man to make love to me – not completely.”

  Damon’s eyes saddened. “That sucks.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice shook a little. “I can’t stand self-pity, and here I am wallowing in it.”

  Damon pulled her against him. “Self-pity is s-something we all indulge in.”