Faking it with Damian Black by Louise Jane

paint.

The mattress silently groaned as I shifted in my lying position. A beating ache in

my head mademoan. A jackhammer was pounding my skull. My entire b*dy

stilled when my butt rubbed against a solid wall of warm muscles. Then a big

hand slid to my front, fanning on my belly, and drewback.

The man behind me, whoever he was, had big hands and a solid b*dy. He was

hard everywhere. If he wasn’t awake yet, a particular part of him was. His

erection, as if it had a mind of its own. kept knocking on the cra ck of my as s

cheeks.

Panic swelled in my throat.

Did I have S** last night?

I tried to scout my brain for answers and found nothing but a hazy vision of the

reunion, never-ending glasses of alcohol. and strobes of red and green laser

lights.

What the hell happened?

This was the downside of relying on coffee to function every f ucking day. My

brain remained asleep even when my b*dy was awake, panicking no less.

I remember drinking wine – lots of it – before coming to the reunion. Then I met

Madeline with Felicity and her minions, seeing Natalie walk in with Hunter oh g

od. My lie and the hottest k*ss of my life cforth, my hands shooting up to

my mouth. I k*ssed Damian!”

“What tis it?” Damian asked in a raspy voice.

I slept with Damian? S hit! Sh it! S hit!”

I should scramble to my feet and distance myself from my best friend’s

stepbrother. But my b*dy and brain were at war. My brain knew that lie

should’ve ended in that reunion and not endup in Damian’s bed. My b*dy

doesn’t seem to get memo, though. I was frozen, curled in a spooning position

with Damian

He was so warm, very masculine, and hard everywhere. The knocking of his

morning wood against my as s joltedback to

life.

S hit!

I scooted away from him. If my skin could turn any redder, I’d spontaneously

combast. To my relief, he released me. 1 clambered onto the edge of the

mattress, cradling my face in my palm. The jackhammer pounds intensified with

each move

I made.

Damian sat beside me; his ch*st was bare, and gray sweatpants covered the

lower half of his b*dy.

“What happened?” I looked down at the white shirt I was wearing, my n*pples

poking through its sheer fabric. I bite down the urge to cover myself.

If we slept last night, he’d seen everything by now. I was in his shirt for crying

out loud.

“You don’t remember?” Damian’s mocking tone didn’t sit well with me. I pinned

him with a stare, brows knitted together. He replied by chuckling, rising to his

full height, and headed for his closet. It dawned onthat we were in their

mansion. But

09:18 Sat, Feb 10 M

Chapter 7

I was unfamiliar with his room.

I’ve only been in Hunter’s bedroom, and Damian was very minimalist in

comparison. He had a dresser, a desk with a desktop, and a shelf on the side

stacked with books – lots of them.

“You were drunk as f uck,” Damian murmured, grabbing a shirt from his closet

and dragging it over his head. I drank in the sight of his back muscles rippling

until it was concealed beneath his shirt. “I had to drag your as s out of the hotel

to keep you from embarrassing yourself.”

I hide my face in my palms. “G od. What did I do?”

“Apart from climbinglike a tree?”

“Oh, my G od.” Mortified, I looked into Damian’s eyes, perusing those green

pools for humor, and found none.

Corded arms folded over his chest, a look I couldn’t identify sailed over his

features. “You really don’t remember?”

I shook my head. The world spun as I did. Bile crawled from my stomach

through my throat, I grimaced.

He looked the other way. If I didn’t know Damian, I’d say he looked

disappointed. He blew a resigned huff. “Clean up. Get something to wear from

Pigtails’ room. I’ll prepare breakfast”

Not waiting for a reply, he spun on his heels and left. Once the door slotted in

its frame, I mulled over the conversation we just had. Questions swirled in my

head as embarrassment sank into my fiesh at the thought of climbing Damian

like a tree. The biggest puzzle of all was how I ended up in his room, dressed in

nothing but my panties and his shirt.

‘Did we have S**?”

I groaned. I need a f ucking coffee.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in Candice’s sweater and shorts, I entered the

kitchen and instantly fell under Damian’s watchful stare. He scannedover

the cup of coffee licking my bare legs with his gaze as I sat on the barstool

across from him. Candice was five-three, and I was five-six. The only clothes we

shared were oversized sweaters.

I silently filled a mug with coffee, shoulder relaxing as I took a sip. The caffeine

rush in my b*dy was like a drug, kick- starting my brain to work.

“Have you seen my phone?” I asked, reaching for a piece of bacon from the

breakfast platter.

Damian was one of those boys that could cook. It’s one of the perks of being

best friends with Candice; I get to see Damian in a way everyone at school

cannot. I’m not even surprised that it hasn’t changed over the years.

He pointed towards the counter, where it was charging. I rounded the island and

grabbed my phone, grimacing at the number of notifications on the lock screen.

‘Can’t these people lethave a peaceful weekend?”

They all could wait. I need to have food in my system first before dealing with

this mess I call life.

“So, how did I end up in your bed?” I tried to sound nonchalant. Not

remembering if we had S** or not is bugging the hell

out of me.

Damian’s gaze was the epitof calmness and serenity. “I didn’t want to take

the chances of you burning the mansion down.””

I choked on the coffee I was sipping. “What?!”

He reached for the newspaper on the countertop, unfolding it. “You were very

unpredictable, Millicent. I’m all for living in the

moment, carpe diem, and YOLO sh it kids these days call it, but you put yourself

at risk last night.” That calm tone, borderline concern, and scolding reminded