The Dare Collection January 2020. Lauren Hawkeye

      Fuck.

      I let her go. ‘I need to get some work done.’

      But her hands were settled in the middle of my chest and they stayed there, her steady gaze meeting mine. ‘Damian.’

      ‘What?’ I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice and failed.

      She didn’t move and she said nothing, letting her calm silence speak for her.

      I could have walked away at that point. I should have. I didn’t have to stand there and tell her what was going on, because I certainly didn’t fucking want to. I could have gone and worked out my tension in the penthouse gym or covered her mouth and used one of the tricks I knew she liked to make her forget her own name, let alone the question she’d asked me.

      But her hands on me were warm, and they felt good. And the expression in her eyes wasn’t demanding. Only patient. As if she was happy to stand there all day, waiting until I was ready to talk to her.

      There was a gentleness to her that I couldn’t resist, and a genuine concern that I hadn’t seen in anyone else’s face for a very long time.

       No, because you make sure you keep everyone at a distance.

      Yeah, I did. And I’d thought I was happy with that. More than happy with it. I didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone, and that was good, because then no one would need or want me.

      Yet right now, with her looking at me, that excuse felt hollow, leaving an emptiness inside me that felt almost...painful.

      Would it really be so bad to talk to her? To let her in just a little? It didn’t have to be far and, after all, I’d already told her a few things about my past and about myself. What could a few more hurt?

      ‘Look,’ she said softly, breaking the silence. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m not trying to pressure you and I don’t want to make whatever it is worse.’

      ‘What do you want to know?’ I wasn’t sure why I asked. It wasn’t as though I particularly wanted to hear the answer.

      ‘Because...well...’ She glanced down at her hands on my chest. And there was a long silence. Then she said, ‘Because I want to help. Because you matter, Damian.’

      Something inside me clenched tight at the same time as something else relaxed, which made no fucking sense.

      I didn’t want to matter. Not to her or anyone else.

       Yes, you do. Why else have you kept her with you?

      Because I wanted to fuck her. Because I needed a date and couldn’t get anyone else. That was it. End of goddamn story.

       Liar. You’ve already fucked her, numerous times. And you could have found yourself a different date.

      I ignored the thought, sullen anger beginning to burn in my gut. At myself for bringing her here when I should have just got rid of her; for dragging this out unnecessarily and potentially opening her up to hurt. And at her, too. And, yes, I knew it wasn’t fair, but I was angry at her anyway. For letting me matter when she shouldn’t have.

      ‘Don’t do that.’ I tried to keep the harsh edge out of my voice, laying my hand over hers where it rested on my shirt to soften the words. ‘Mattering to each other is not what we’re here for, remember?’

      This time she didn’t look away. ‘No, but you said this was about making each other feel good. And you’re definitely not feeling good right now.’

      I could feel my jaw get tight. ‘I was talking about sex, Thea. Not anything else.’

      ‘Right.’ Her dark eyes flickered, thick, black lashes coming down to conceal her expression. ‘Sorry.’ She made as if to pull away, but I could hear the pain in that carefully neutral word. I’d hurt her. Fuck.

      Instinctively I held her hands against my chest, preventing her from moving. Because hurting her had never been my intention.

       Jesus, next you’ll be thinking she matters.

      I gritted my teeth, shoving the thought away. Shit, all I’d wanted was some good times, some fun and pleasure for both of us, nothing too deep, nothing too heavy. But this was turning into something I hadn’t expected and I didn’t like my reaction to it.

       Perhaps if she knew the truth she’d understand.

      Yeah, well, maybe it was time to be straight with her. I couldn’t have her getting any more involved than she was already.

      She was looking up at me, a question in her eyes, and suddenly her touching me was too much so I stepped back, letting her hands drop away.

      ‘It’s not you,’ I said before she could say anything.

      She clasped her hands together as if she didn’t know what to do with them. ‘So I’m going to get the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech?’

      Shit. I should have been clear right from the beginning, shouldn’t I? I should have told her exactly what she was getting into with me, and now I’d left it too late.

       Because you’re a selfish prick, remember?

      ‘You want to know why I’m tense?’ I said harshly, shoving the thought out of my head. ‘It’s because I haven’t been to London for years.’

      ‘Oh? Why?’

      There was something heavy in my chest, like a big fucking rock that just sat there, unmoving. ‘Because Morgan lives here.’

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      Thea

      DAMIAN STOOD THERE with the grey London light falling over him, in a tailored charcoal suit with a white shirt. The neck of his shirt was open, exposing his bright tattoos, and he had his hands in his pockets. It was supposed to be a casual pose, but he looked anything but casual.

      Tension poured off him, in the lines of his powerful shoulders and arms and in his beautiful face. I could see that his hands were curled into fists in his pockets and there was sharp grief in his silver eyes as he looked at me, grief he was trying to hide.

      Grief I didn’t understand.

      ‘So...you avoided coming to London because of your sister?’ I asked tentatively. ‘But why?’

      He tried to smile, tried to put on that mask again, but it was more of a snarl than anything else, and I found myself taking a couple of instinctive steps towards him, wanting to do something for him.

      But he gave a sharp shake of his head, freezing me in place. ‘Don’t.’

      So I stayed where I was, my throat tight, my heart beginning to ache, because whatever he was going to tell me hurt him.

      ‘It’s the usual sad story,’ he went on. ‘Mum’s illness was terminal, and her pain was getting worse, and nothing I did helped.’ His beautiful voice got rougher. ‘I couldn’t save her. I knew I couldn’t. I knew there was nothing to be done. But...’ A muscle flicked in his hard jaw. ‘The helplessness of it. Knowing there was nothing, fucking nothing, that I could do. She sent me out before the end. She didn’t want me to see it—not me or Morgan.’

      My heart felt as if it had grown sharp edges and was cutting me deep inside. I could only imagine what it must have been like for him, a sixteen-year-old boy having to shoulder the burden of his dying mother. Alone. Because he had been alone, hadn’t he? Like he still was.

      ‘The nurses told me she died peacefully.’ Damian’s voice was ragged around the edges. ‘And in no pain, so there was that.’ His gaze lifted abruptly. ‘But Morgan didn’t understand. She changed after Mum died. She