Falling for Cyn Read online

  Regret punched her gut at the thought. Most likely, they would always be new. They wouldn’t have the chance to really learn about each other.

  The surgery could go one of three ways. One: it could be successful and the tumor would be gone forever. There was a fifty-fifty chance of that. Two: it could be a failure, and she would die on the operating table. Three: she could come out in a vegetative state for the rest of her life. She’d signed the paperwork for plugs to be pulled in that eventuality, so that would equate death as well.

  She sighed and flipped her phone screen back to more pictures of Damien. When Cynthia’s phone rang in her hand, she allowed the machine to measure her reaction to the fact it was Damien calling before she answered. His gritty voice on the other end made the spikes on the monitor get more erratic.

  “I’d like to take you out again.”

  She’d like that, too, and she needed more data. Hesitantly, she broached a topic she didn’t think would fly very well. “Can we go to a club, dancing? I’d like to wear the fragrance and see what happens in a crowded place like that.”

  He chuckled but it sounded forced. “You still testing that? And you want me to have to fight men off you all night?”

  “I only have a limited amount of time before it goes to the FDA, and I need to get as much data as possible before my surgery.” Putting a teasing note into her voice, she continued. “Besides, I think my big, strong boyfriend can handle other guys looking at me.” She bit her lip and waited for his response.

  And waited. And waited. She hadn’t used the word boyfriend before, and now that she’d put it out there, she was nervous about his response.

  Finally, he spoke. “Okay, but if they touch you, it’s on.”

  “Deal.” Cynthia giggled at his joke, but he was silent on the other end. “Hello?”

  “I mean it. I don’t want anyone else touching you, Cyn. If I’m your boyfriend, I’ll fight like hell to keep things that way.” His voice had gotten lower, and it sent a shiver of awareness up her spine, where it exploded across her shoulders, leaving a path of goose bumps. Her machine went nuts.

  “Okay.”

  They hung up after making plans for Friday night, and Cynthia thought about their words. She’d never dated a guy like Damien before. Her relationships had always been less serious, even when they were serious. It was hard to describe, but Damien was so intense about her. He’d never really put a name to his feelings for her, but she knew he cared. Probably more than he wanted to admit. Because she certainly did.

  She’d never been in love before, which if she were honest, was probably a huge reason for the fragrance. Cynthia wanted to help people who’d never been in love find it. She had no idea if the fragrance was behind her attraction to Damien, or vice versa, but was willing to bet it had helped matters along quite a bit.

  The idea of going to a club with Cynthia wearing her scent made Damien’s stomach turn. Even without the chemical enhancement, those bars were flesh-pots—men constantly on the prowl for pussy, being pushy in their affections, trying to take home a new flavor every night. He knew from experience, and wasn’t looking forward to fending unwanted attention off his woman.

  But this was something she wanted. It was important to her. And with Damien’s new-found desire to please her, he would comply with her wishes.

  But it wasn’t going to be fun for him.

  When he picked her up for their date, she answered the door wearing what he considered relatively modest clothes for her intended purpose. That relieved him somewhat as he eyeballed her barely-above-the-knee skirt, black stockings, and knee-high boots. Her top hugged her beautiful breasts but didn’t show an overabundance of cleavage. She looked classy but undeniably sexy in an understated way that made his cock hard and his balls ache.

  Tonight was going to be rough.

  Pulling a box out of his pocket, he offered it to Cynthia, who accepted with raised eyebrows.

  He’d given her a diamond necklace, modest by his standards, but nothing short of what she deserved. It was choker length with a thick chain. The charm on it was a diamond encrusted key. It wasn’t flashy, or not as flashy as some of the other necklaces he’d looked at. But she definitely held the key to something. His heart? Yeah. She did. If it made him weak, so be it. Dammit.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Damien, I thought I told you no more expensive gifts.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a slip of folded paper. “Here.”

  It was a receipt for a donation to the local women’s shelter for the same amount he’d paid for the necklace. She gasped when the implications of the receipt seeped into her brain.

  He grinned. That noise was his complete undoing.

  “Um… I don’t know what to say.” Cynthia bit her lip, obviously wanting to refuse the gifts but not knowing how.

  “I told you. I have money. You deserve it. If I have to make a charitable contribution to get you to accept gifts you deserve, so be it. I’ll be charitable.” She did deserve it. With everything she’d been through health-wise, while still retaining her kind soul, Damien was willing to buy her Heaven and Earth if it was possible. Case in point. The smile she beamed at him when she realized what the receipt was made everything worth it.

  His stomach plummeted when she swallowed hard and resignation etched her features. Cynthia sighed as she said, “Can you put it on me, please?”

  Damien chuckled to himself. “You know, it won’t burn you or anything. You might as well get used to it, Cyn. I’ll be giving my woman gifts. Accept it.”

  His hands slid around her as he grasped the chain, wrapping it around her delicate neck. His knuckles grazed the smooth skin at the back of her graceful neck, and he gave in to the urge to rub his hand back and forth, feeling the sparks fly at the contact. The buzzing that alit at the touch slid along his skin, catching him on fire. Cynthia was truly unlike other women. In his experience, baubles were an easy means to the soul, but Cyn’s insistence that they weren’t necessary spoke to just how different she was.

  Damien stared at her neck, imagining the flush that would rise on the skin, the sheen of sweat coating it. The spark of need inside him waiting for the tinder to send it to a towering inferno pulsed to life, but he put a damper on it.

  He’d decided long ago he wasn’t going to push her into bed. Judging by the way she’d reacted to his rarely indulged-in kisses, she wouldn’t kick him out of it, but he was trying to prolong the wait. He wanted to make it special, and for the life of him, staring at her now, he couldn’t remember why. He wanted to be buried between her thighs like he wanted air.

  Damien’s lusty thoughts weren’t any better once they got to the club, either. At the first sign of the line around the block, Cynthia had winked at him, grabbed his hand, and strode to the front, ignoring grumbles of complaints. The bouncer had immediately let her in, putting a hand to Damien’s chest. One glare from his inner beast and the bouncer’s trembling hands had unclipped the velvet rope, allowing him to pass.

  Damien hadn’t called on his inner evil since he’d met Cynthia, hoping it was laid to rest. But tonight, he called it to the surface, allowing it to hover just under his skin, to be pulled out when he needed to get his point across.

  Cyn was his.

  She tugged him to the bar, where she ordered a cola. He did the same, relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with her lowered inhibitions. By the look of industriousness on her face, she was taking this seriously, only here for her precious data.

  They crowded into a tiny table set up around the perimeter of the dance floor, and Damien was perfectly fine with that. Resting his hand on her waist, he staked his claim. They could look, but if anyone spoke to her or touched her, he’d let them know he was perfectly capable of ripping their fucking head off.

  Cynthia leaned into him, the music too loud to actually converse, so he reveled in the feel of her soft body against his. He lowered his nose and sniffed the top of her head, more to put off a vibe of posses
siveness than anything else, but when his nostrils filled with the aroma of something heavenly, he deepened his experience, smashing his nose to her hair and inhaling deeply. Pulling her closer, he smelled something he could only equate to happiness. He’d never really been happy, so he wasn’t sure exactly what it felt like, but her scent made the corners of his mouth quirk up, which happy people did constantly. So, in his mind, she smelled like happiness. The fact he could actually smell her was not lost on him. It was happening. She was his. He could smell. Her.

  His arms slid around her waist, and Damien buried his nose in her neck—right below her ear—and sniffed. Her odor was more intense here; there was the fragrance, and while it was nice, her natural scent was what had his heart racing. He pushed his hips forward, unable to hold her and smell her without letting her know how aroused he was.

  If it was possible, she melted more in his arms, and he felt the vibrations of a moan as they swept through her body. He inhaled again, and her desire rippled from her in waves. It was a heady scent, and Damien had to remind himself she was different. She was his. And he couldn’t screw this up.

  She wasn’t a plaything for him to use, to deceive, to manipulate. Cynthia, with her petite frame and fiery hair, was his to keep. And he needed her on board. He didn’t want to keep his woman against her will. As appealing as that would have been two months ago, Cynthia was different. He needed her to want him as badly as he wanted her. Based on the musky scent rising from her now, she did. But he felt that was lust, and that was on a completely different level from what he needed from her.

  But it was a damned good start.

  For her part, Cynthia didn’t encourage any men to flirt with her; she was wholly absorbed in Damien. Her hands stroked his arms, and she tilted her hips back to cradle his dick between her delicious ass cheeks. He could feel her tremble in his arms when he tightened his grip on her and knew it was a reaction to him. But he couldn’t ignore the looks she was getting.

  Men everywhere were aware of his woman. All over the place, men were facing her—chests out, feet planted wide—trying to get her attention. Some stared, some were less obvious, but they all had the gleam of desire in their eyes. Lust.

  Damien felt like it was mostly the fragrance doing what she intended it to, but the possessive feelings enraged his beast, and he found himself needing to get her alone.

  “Can we go now? I think it’s safe to say your damn fragrance works,” he groused into her ear.

  Instead of agreeing, she turned in his arms and looked up at him. When she did that, it didn’t matter what she said, he’d agree. “Can we dance a little first?” He groaned, not even trying to keep it quiet.

  His eye roll made her giggle, and Cynthia grabbed his hand and led him onto the dance floor. When she stopped at the edge, Damien steered her closer to the middle. That way, only men on the dance floor could watch her. Fewer eyes on his woman.

  She wrapped slender arms around his neck and started gyrating against his pelvis, shocking him completely. Up until tonight, she’d seemed so innocent, but the way she was moving against him now told him she was anything but. He’d had an erection since she’d opened her door, and now that she was grinding against it, he was a complete mess.

  His head was thrown back in total agony when Cynthia stiffened against him, and he felt something warm on his shoulder. He looked to find a man grinding on Cynthia’s backside. A growl rose from his throat as the beast came forward. The man looked up to see Damien’s eyes, the vertical red slits of the dragon, shining in the dark club. He jumped back in abject terror before Damien’s satisfied chuckle filled the air.

  “Can we go now? I need you alone,” he rumbled in Cynthia’s ear. They’d danced to a few songs, each one lasting an eternity to Damien. His beast had protected her, but he needed her isolated from all these horny men lusting after her. “You can count the men drooling at you on the way out.” He grabbed her hand and led her out of the club without listening for her response.

  He was dangling by a thin thread of control, his emotions warring inside his body. It was astonishing to him; he’d never felt most of this stuff. But he knew if another man touched her, he’d lose control, and she’d see something he didn’t want her to. And his utter lack of control over the beast was unsettling.

  In the car, Damien took a deep breath, willing the beast to go back under the surface. He regretted letting him come out tonight. He was trying to stay undercover, didn’t want Cynthia to learn what he was. If she did, and she suddenly believed, there was no damn way.

  After several deep breaths, she finally spoke. “Are you okay, Damien?”

  He looked over at her, her wide, green eyes looking at him with concern. “Yeah, I’m just a little overwhelmed right now. I’ll get over it.”

  “Overwhelmed by what?”

  By these emotions I feel for you. By the idea of those men looking at you. By my complete lack of control.

  “By how badly I want you right now.” He settled for the most evident malady, the one easiest to explain.

  “Why don’t we go back to my place?” Her invitation was clear, and something inside him roared in triumph.

  “We can, but, Cyn, I don’t want to rush into things with you. I’m trying to do this right. I’ve never done anything right before.”

  “Why don’t we just play it by ear?”

  He sighed and started his car. He knew exactly what that would mean. If they started anything, he’d lose his tenuous grasp on control and end up fucking her hard against her apartment door. And that would make her just like every other woman he’d been with. He knew she was special, and wanted her to know it, too.

  Cynthia was The One. Everything pointed to it. Hell, he could smell now. He’d never known scents before. That was one sense he’d been denied his entire existence, and further evidence he was becoming human, as if the new-found sensations that accompanied the emotions of jealousy, happiness, and lust weren’t enough. But he wasn’t known for his tender lovemaking. That wasn’t a skill he’d ever found the need for, or the woman for. He wanted Cyn. Needed her. But he didn’t want to frighten her away. Now that he had her, he needed his timing to be right before he took the next step.

  And that was weird. He’d never felt that in his life.

  Driving to her place, Damien ran over his options. He could let her have her way and fuck her. He knew how turned on she was. Now that they were in her car, he could smell it. It was a sweet musk making his balls ache and unbidden images float through his mind. She was probably dripping down her legs by now. He groaned at the thought as his erection throbbed, straining against his zipper. She giggled.

  She thought this was all so amusing. What would she think if she really knew?

  Or he could just kiss her goodnight and leave, just like he’d done at the end of every date they’d had, like a good boy. This went against every pore of his skin. He was not a good boy. And he was afraid if he denied himself again, he’d lose it.

  Maybe he could compromise and embrace this new-found desire to give pleasure without expecting anything in return.

  When the radio came on, an older song he’d always been partial to was playing. He turned it up, whistling to the melody.

  “You like The Rolling Stones?”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her to see her looking at him quizzically. “I guess. I really like this song.”

  “Sympathy for the Devil?” She pursed her mouth in thought, and Damien forced his focus away from the delectable little pucker. “That’s what you’re always whistling when you come to pick me up. It’s how I know you’ve made it to my door. I can hear you coming up the steps by your whistle,” she mused.

  Probably. He loved that song, the idea that a song in the popular culture actually glorified him. Granted, there had been plenty of others since that one, but he liked the way this one depicted him. It showed him as an entity who deserved respect, admiration even, for his feats. Feats he’d been created to perform. When the song ended
, he turned down the radio, lost in his thoughts.

  Cynthia couldn’t quell the excitement rising within her. She could tell Damien wanted her as badly as she wanted him; she could see it in his eyes. The fiery black depths called to something deep inside her, coaxing it out. He’d agreed to play things by ear, and she wouldn’t let him leave all twisted up like he was. Or at least, like she was.

  She unlocked her door with trembling fingers while Damien’s hot hands gripped her waist behind her. As soon as her door was opened, he’d pushed her inside and kicked the door closed behind them, his mouth on hers, tongue pushing past her lips to tangle inside her mouth.

  A feral groan escaped her, and he hauled her against his hard body, muttering into her mouth, “Where’s your bedroom?” She pointed behind her and Damien scooped up Cynthia and marched into her room. His movements were purposeful, as if he had a plan in place to follow. She didn’t care, she just wanted his mouth on her.

  She kissed him back with total abandon, using her teeth on his lips, tugging at his hair with her fingers. When his deft hands traveled up her skirt to find the thigh-high stocking she wore, he grumbled into her mouth.

  “You’re killing me here, Cyn.” He sat her on the edge of her bed and sank to his knees, pulling away from her needy mouth. Grasping her wrists, he put her hands at her sides. “Don’t move.” When he looked at her, Cynthia couldn’t breathe. His eyes were coal, inky and black, the depths of which she knew she could fall into and never climb out of.

  Damien evoked a completely visceral reaction in Cynthia, something primal she didn’t even know she wanted. She knew he was holding something back, some secret need in himself, and it excited her. She couldn’t ignore the ball of need in her core, a need she didn’t know existed. She only knew that if Damien ever let go, she’d be changed forever. And the anticipation was killing her.

  He stared at her like a man in the desert stares at water. Longing, lust, and craving shone from his face, from the stern line of his lips which spoke of a tension in his body she yearned to unleash. She squirmed under his scrutiny.