My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(25)
Author: Erin McCarthy

What the hell did that mean? She brought her arms in tighter.

"I am very sorry."

Damien looked and sounded sincere, and Marley couldn’t really find any reason to fault him. He wasn’t the one who had doctored her drink. "It’s okay. You told me not to come to the party and I didn’t listen. I accept responsibility for my role. And thanks for taking care of me. I was a little, uh, out of it." That was as close to the subject as she was willing to skate, but Damien suddenly covered his mouth and coughed a little. She realized in shock he was amused. She wasn’t. "You think that’s funny?"

Despite the shake of his head, his eyes told her the truth. The bastard was on the verge of laughing.

"Yeah, it was just hilarious that I took my top off in front of you."

His eyes darkened. "That was not amusing, no."

Now that hurt. Marley was already raw, feeling bruised, battered. She was worried about Lizzie, worried about herself, wondering why exactly she had done the things she had the night before. Was she really so needy, so vulnerable, so sexually repressed?

Damien’s reminder that he did not find her attractive was the last drop in an overflowing cup of emotion. "Can we just forget that ever happened, please? I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again. Can’t you just let me walk out of here with at least a shred of my dignity intact? I got the message last night—you’re not interested in me, and I can live with that. I never would have thrown myself at you anyway if I hadn’t been loopy, because I realize my limitations. But it would be nice, polite, if you could stop pointing out that you would not have sex with me if I were the last woman in Louisiana."

Okay, that was a little dramatic. Marley clapped her mouth shut and mentally winced. She was losing it. She was on the edge of some kind of meltdown and she needed to go back to the hotel, regroup mentally, pack her bags, and get the hell out of there.

Thinking to do just that, she brushed her fingers over the T-shirt, reassuring herself the bag of letters tucked in her waistband wasn’t going to fall out, and turned to go.

Damien grabbed her elbow. "Marley."

She jerked free. The last thing she needed or wanted was to see pity in his eyes, compassion on his gorgeous face. But he was stronger than she was, and he stepped in front of her and took both her wrists in a viselike grip.

"Why do you see yourself that way?" he asked in a low voice. "Why don’t you recognize how stunning and alluring you are?"

She sighed and stared over his shoulder. "You don’t have to do this. I’m not insecure and I don’t need you to make me feel better. I’m just having a really bad week. I want to find my sister, and I want to go home."

"Let me try one more time. One more party to lure Lizzie."

"No." She couldn’t do that again, couldn’t see all those people, couldn’t stand next to Damien and pretend she didn’t want him so much her body ached. She couldn’t take the heartache of picking through room after room of partygoers reveling in sexual oblivion and still not finding her sister, wondering in the back of her head if Lizzie was dead.

"I’ll let the police look for her. Maybe I’ll hire a private investigator if I can afford it."

"You should do that. But one more party won’t hurt." Damien bent over, trying to get her to look at him.

Marley kept her eyes averted.

"Unless you’re afraid."

"Afraid of what?" she asked with disdain, giving in and looking at him.

"Afraid of what you want."

Her heart started to hammer loudly in her chest. He was picking through her fabrications, wandering too close to the truth. "What do you think I want?"

"I think you want to be the queen. You want to stand up for once and have everyone bow to you." Damien stroked her wrists with his thumbs and leaned over, his lips suddenly brushing her cheek, her temple, her ear. "Or at least have one man bow to you."

She could deny it, but he wouldn’t believe her. And it would be a lie. She did want that liberation, just once, that kind of confidence, that courage to demand what she and her body wanted. Marley crossed her arms tighter but let Damien rub and nuzzle against her, until he was kissing her neck, her ear, the corner of her mouth, caressing her flesh with his mouth. Making him stop would be the right thing to do, but she was afraid if she stepped away, had to be strong just one more time, that she would cry.

Tears never came easily to her, and they were a failure, a display of emotion she couldn’t afford the luxury of having, and after last night, she refused to cry again. Which meant she had to stay put, had to let him play his game with her, let herself unbend just a little and indulge in his touch, whatever his motives. He was certainly good at what he was doing, and her body was stirring to life, appreciating the attention.

"Let me bow to you." Damien flickered his tongue across the corner of her mouth, his hand gently pulling her arms away from her chest, forcing them to her sides before returning higher to cup her breast.

He found her nipple easily and toyed with it, rolling and rubbing over the peak until Marley was breathing harder, head starting to slide back. His hands were here, they were there, they were stroking and caressing and moving, big and demanding, yet graceful and fluid.

"I like seeing you in my clothes. They’re workout clothes, functional, yet on you they hug and tug and make me think all sorts of things I shouldn’t."

Now there was a hand sliding over the satin nylon shorts, right along the apex of her thighs. Marley shivered as he found her clitoris, even through the layers of clothes. He pressed lightly, circled, pressed, circled, pressed. "What things?" she asked, swallowing hard, desire thick and hot in her mouth.

"Hot and sweaty things. Sports imagery, like you in this shirt with no bra, soaked from a Gatorade dump. Sitting on a basketball, legs spread. You hitting the showers, me assisting… I can keep going if you’d like."

That was plenty to keep her fantasies rolling for months after she got home.

"I absolutely love your body," he added. "I want to lick you from head to toe."

His mouth closed over her breast and Marley bit back a moan. That thing he was doing, the way he sucked, than pulled—she was going blind with pleasure. Desire was dragging her in, emptying her mind, stirring and rising, her body screaming yes, this was what she wanted.

Then she heard the crinkle of the ziplock bag under her shirt.

Marley jerked back, startled. She wasn’t supposed to let him see the letters.

And if he was the one bowing to her, why did she feel so out of control, so pushed and led and coaxed?