Chapter 129: One Kiss Too Honest
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"Should I be worried?"
"Probably."
"I kind of am."
"Good."
I shot him a glare over my shoulder.
"You lying, rich, blue-eyed demonic—" I fished for the right word, found several, but went for the most comprehensive. "—asshole flirt."
"Oh?" He sounded genuinely amused.
"I hope your expensive shampoo goes bad."
He gasped, his reaction was either genuine or expertly performed. "That’s ruthless."
"I hope your coffee is always lukewarm."
"Oliver—"
"I hope your Wi-Fi disconnects every thirty seconds for the rest of your life."
Now he was properly laughing, the kind that made me feel a certain way. "I absolutely deserve that one."
"I hope every single sock you own gets lost in the dryer."
"Now you’re going after my socks—"
"They’re guilty by association."
"You know, I’m starting to think you’re drunk."
"I think you should stop talking."
"You cursed my socks, Oliver. My socks have done nothing to you."
"They’ve participated."
He laughed so hard I almost lost my grip on his hand, but I held on tight because I needed to have this conversation, and I wasn’t letting him get away in the thirty seconds it would take to find somewhere quieter.
We reached the staircase, and I stepped up with more confidence than I should’ve had.
My foot caught the edge.
The world tilted.
"Oh—!"
Damien’s hand caught my elbow before I could finish the thought; his other hand landed on my waist, and for a brief moment, I was leaning against him with his arm around me, his voice close to my ear.
"You okay?"
"I’m f...fine."
"You almost took a dive into the stairs."
"I hate stairs and I hate you."
He chuckled. I pushed away before he could fully enjoy the moment, and he followed as I continued up the steps.
The party noise faded gradually behind us, the volume lessening as we put distance between us and the loudness, the bass still there but gentler, less insistent. By the time we reached the hallway where it was quiet enough to hear ourselves, the night felt smaller and more manageable.
Just us.
I pushed a bedroom door open without a second thought, stepping into a room that was mostly dark, with only the soft glow of the moonlight sneaking through the window.
The air felt cooler and quieter in here, the noise from the party outside muffled to a mere bass thump that vibrated through the floor.
I pulled Damien inside and quickly turned to lock the door behind us, the soft click of the lock echoing in the sudden silence. My heart raced in my chest, a chaotic rhythm that matched the whirlwind in my mind.
Damien stood there, watching me with that familiar head tilt, his face a mix of amusement and curiosity. He looked annoyingly put together, his clothes still neat despite the chaos downstairs.
"You’re drunk already?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "What’s going on, Oliver? The way you dragged me in here has got me fearing for my life."
For a moment, I just glared at him, my vision a little fuzzy from the alcohol and the rush of emotions hitting me all at once.
"Tell me, what are you planning to do to me now?"
I blinked at him, why would he ask that...?
My legs felt wobbly, but I didn’t step back. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat, tangled up between irritation and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name. .
I could still picture that girl on his lap, how she leaned in too close, and how everyone looked at him like he belonged to them and not to me. The jealousy flared up in my chest, mixing with the alcohol until it felt like fire coursing through my veins.
Fucking asshole...
"You look like you’re about to explode on me." Damien took a small step closer, his voice dropping a bit. "Talk to me, Sunshine. What’s the matter?"
Look at him calling me calling me Sunshine, as if he hadn’t just completely ruined me.
But I couldn’t talk. The words just wouldn’t come, yet the urge to do something was overwhelming.
Fuck this...
Without even thinking, without giving myself time to hesitate, I closed the gap between us in two shaky steps and pushed him against the wall.
"Oof!" He groaned as his eyes widened. My hands clenched in his shirt as I pressed my lips to his, desperate and fierce, as if I was trying to pour out everything I couldn’t say in that one moment.
The kiss was a bit messy at first, awkward with the alcohol swirling in me and the storm of feelings. My mouth danced against his with more urgency than finesse, my breath quick and uneven as I tried to erase any distance that was left.
Damien initially seemed taken aback.
Honestly I would be too, but right now I just didn’t give a shit.
I could feel his body tense for just a moment, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he started to kiss me back, taking charge after that brief surprise.
His hands came up to my face, warm and steady, gently tilting my head to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against mine, slow at first and then bolder, sliding against me in a way that made my knees nearly buckle.
He...was very eager.
The taste of him...slightly salty with a hint of sweetness from his drink, flooded my senses, and I let out a soft moan into his mouth, the sound muffled but impossible to stifle.
Sober me would have been very embarrassed to let out a sound like that from just a kiss.
But again, I didn’t give a shit.
He responded with a low growl that sent vibrations from his chest to mine, his tongue exploring my mouth with a hunger that matched my desperation.
The kiss became wet and messy, our tongues tangling, lips pressing harder together, breaths mingling in hot, erratic gasps.
His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me fully against him, and I could feel his strong body, just as affected as I was. My hands tightened in his shirt, pulling him closer as if that could somehow make us one.
Closer...closer...closer.
The party noise downstairs felt so far away, reduced to a dull hum that couldn’t reach the heat building between us. Damien’s tongue moved against mine in a way that made my head spin, his teeth nipping at my lower lip before kissing it tenderly.
I was losing myself in him, in the rush of alcohol, jealousy, and unspoken desire colliding until nothing else mattered.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us panting, his forehead rested against mine. His eyes were darkened, pupils wide, and his voice was rough as he said, barely above a whisper,
"You’re drunk." But there was no judgment, just an observation, as if he was giving me a last chance to pull back.
I didn’t want to pull back. Shaking my head, my hands still clutching his shirt, I said, "Shut up, I don’t care."
Damien’s lips curled into a small smile against mine. "Then don’t."
He kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, his hands sliding down to my waist to pull me even closer. Everything around us faded away, leaving just the sensation of his mouth on mine, the warmth of his body, the way he tasted and smelled.
My head spun, the alcohol and the kiss blending together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. All I knew was that I didn’t want to stop. Not just yet. Not tonight.
The door was locked. The party was a distant memory. And, I let myself stop being scared and just feel instead.