A nod. “And the rest of the time between then and now?”
“I didn’t want to tell you on the phone.”
“What about the weekend? We were together for two solid days and—”
“I was an ass,” I admitted. “I was worried about your career and your projects, worried that we’d finally moved forward and were having such a great weekend. I didn’t want to ruin that with . . .”
“Potentially life-changing information?”
Fuck.
I nodded, miserably.
“And if I’d decided to drown my Grant sorrows in a bottle or two of wine?”
“I would have . . .”
Hell, I didn’t know what I would have done.
She stood, shook her head. “Damon.”
“I know, baby. I should have just brought it up the moment I even thought it.”
Eden moved toward the windows, staring out for several long moments. “I can’t actually have kids, Damon,” she murmured. “You should know that. I was . . . damaged when Tim pushed me down the stairs.”
A knife-like blade of pain stabbed me in the heart.
“Baby,” I murmured and stood.
She spun, put her hand up again.
“That’s information you need, information you need to accept. I don’t know if you want kids someday, but they can’t be born of my body. Not anymore.”
“Honey.”
“If you want that, I can’t give that to you.”
“I just want you.”
Tears trailed down her cheeks. “You say that now, but—”
No. I went to her, tugged her into my arms. “I’ve waited six years for a shot with you, Eden Larson. If kids are in our future, we’ll find a way that works for both of us.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get there.”
I sucked in a breath, held her tighter. “You don’t need to get anywhere.”
“And you still should have told me the moment you suspected.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “You held back because you were worried I’d panic. That . . . we can’t make a relationship of that.”
“You’re right.”
“And if you do want them—”
“What I want is for us to enjoy our time together,” I said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “And maybe figure out a way to get my mom to spill her beans on her secret French toast recipe.”
She smiled. “I can do that.” Then, “You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“We can't build something rock-steady if you hold back from me.”
“I know that, too.”
“I should be so fucking pissed at you right now. Especially since you thought I looked fat enough to be pregnant.”
I winced, nodded. “Yes, you should.”
She sighed. “Instead, I’m touched that you care about me so much that you didn’t want to hurt me or my career.”
My lungs froze.
She turned in the circle of my arms. “Thank you for caring, baby.”
This woman. Fuck, she was absolutely incredible. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t roasting my balls over a fire, especially when I deserved a good searing. Instead, she’d set a boundary and forged a way forward.
And I knew I couldn’t hold back.
Couldn’t hold anything back.
Not ever again.
“I love you.”
Her face froze, lips parting in surprise. But then she rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips lightly to mine.
“I love you, too,” she said, shocking me, my jaw dropping open. Gently, she closed it and smiled up at me. “It’s the only explanation.”
I chuckled. “Besides insanity?”
Her smile turned full-grin. “Yes, exactly that,” she said. “But also, Damon baby, it’s the only explanation for why you were able to get inside my armor. It’s love. It has to be because it’s the only thing strong enough to penetrate all of that steel.”
My heart expanded like a balloon being filled with helium. I started to wind my arms around her, but she leaned back, heels dropping to the floor, lips distancing from mine, eyes narrowing. “Now, there will be no stalling or hiding in the bathroom or acting weird,” she said. “You’re going to take me to bed, give me many orgasms in penance, and promise to never”—her fingers wove into the hair on my nape and gripped tightly enough to make me wince—“ever keep something like this from me again.”
I scooped her up into my arms. “I promise.”
“Good.” Her hands fell to my shoulders. “Now, kiss me.”
Another promise I could keep.
I dropped my lips to hers.
Fourteen
Eden
God. I loved his mouth.
His lips were soft against mine and yet demanding, coaxing me from touched, albeit mildly irritated, into heavy-limbed and flushed all over from desire by the time he’d set me down on the bed.
One moment to yank the comforter away.
Another and he was pressed down on top of me.
“Baby?” he murmured in my ear.
“Hmm?”
“You’re sure?”
My eyes peeled open. “About the love thing or the orgasm thing?”
Damon brushed his finger down my cheek, the slightly calloused tip catching lightly against my skin. “Either. Both.”
I did some tracing of my own, along the bristly edges of his jaw, down his nose, across his forehead, pushing several of the slightly overgrown brown locks out of the way.
“I’m sure about both.” I leaned up to nip his jaw. “I’m also sure that you’re way too handsome for your own good. You should have focused some of that Garcia Christmas Special magic in front of the camera.”
He chuckled, shifting slightly so his mouth could reach my throat. “As sacrilegious as it seems to be bringing her up at a moment like this, my mother would love to hear you say that. She’s always been on me to use my connections to get into movies.”
I laughed. “Well, now you can use my connections.”
A shudder. “God, no. The only connection of yours I want is finding a way into your pants.”
How was this my life? I was lying in bed with a man who wasn’t rushing to take off my clothes as quickly as possible, trying to find a way to his orgasm, to snag that moment of pure pleasure. But just as he wasn’t racing to that end, I also wasn’t hurrying. I’d spent so many of my sexual interactions since Tim searching to get lost in that moment of blissful oblivion, and disappointed when it only lasted a few seconds, when it didn’t mean anything more than getting lost for a few seconds—
Empty oblivion.
I wanted more than that now.
I wanted to live.
I wanted to feel.
I wanted . . . Damon in my pants.
He nipped at my throat. “What are you grinning about?”
“You getting in my pants.”
His head popped up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But you’re sure taking your sweet time with it.”
A wicked smile, heat in his eyes, his head dropping back down, and his mouth went to work. He traced his lips across my jaw, let them drift up to my earlobe, suckling gently. He’d discovered that spot the first time we’d been together, and it never failed to make me shiver and moan, goose bumps erupting on my arms.