I cling to him, my hands in his hair, then press my mouth to his again. I cannot get enough of him. His hands slide over my body, his mouth opens to me. My tongue wars with his. I will never have my fill of him, and all I want is this moment, this reunion. I want to drop down to the asphalt and strip him bare right there, and in that singular moment I do not know how I have survived without him.
Then it hits me—I haven’t survived. I have been sleepwalking, not living. Because how can I really be alive without Damien?
“I’m sorry,” I say when we finally break the kiss. “I’m so sorry she did that. I can’t believe she’d do that. She said if I broke up with you—” I cut myself off. I hadn’t intended to tell him that.
“I know,” he says flatly. “Ollie told me. He told me what you did, and he told me why you did it.”
I’m not sure whether I want to slap Ollie or kiss him, but the conundrum soon evaporates under Damien’s touch. He strokes a hand along my cheek, his familiar touch firing nerve-endings throughout my body. “You’re a goddamn fool, Nikki Fairchild. And I love you desperately.”
I swallow tears and cling to him even tighter, savoring our connection and the way he makes me feel.
His hands roam my back, over my ratty Bermuda shorts, up along the backs of my thighs. I moan, craving a more intimate connection.
“I think maybe we should get in the car.” He unlocks it and we climb in. The backseats are down and the area has been filled by a mattress. I glance at Damien, amused. “Roughing it?”
“I haven’t wanted luxury. I’ve been living in motels, the backs of cars. I’ve been all over Europe and I don’t think I’ve really seen one inch of it.”
I swallow. Ollie was right. Damien has been just as broken as I have.
“Tonight, I was going to drive to the desert. I thought I’d sleep under the stars. I thought it might help.” He points to the roof. I don’t know if it’s a standard feature or the billionaire add-on, but there is a huge sunroof over the back of the Jeep.
“It wouldn’t have,” I say. I know, because nothing would have helped me. Nothing except Damien.
“No,” he says. “It wouldn’t.” His eyes roam over me, and he reaches out tentatively to touch me. “Dear God, Nikki. Are you real?”
I can only nod, because if I speak I will surely start crying again.
“Thank God you found me.” He pulls me down beside him. I feel like I’m in high school again, and I have to admit I kind of like it.
“I’ve been looking for you for hours,” I finally say. “Ever since I saw the news. Are you okay?” I stroke his face, expecting the same clammy skin from Germany. But the Damien in front of me looks as gorgeous and healthy as always, not to mention exquisitely happy.
“I am now,” he says.
“I don’t understand why she released the photos.”
“She didn’t,” Damien says. “I did.”
I sit up and gape at him. “You? But—but why?”
“Because I didn’t have any other choice.” He eases me back down, then slides closer. He twines our legs together and his arm goes around my waist. I snuggle in close, and press my cheek against his chest, wanting to be as close to him as possible. “I was dying without you, and once Ollie told me the choice you made, I knew that I had to make one, too.”
“But the photos—that’s the thing you’ve been fighting against all along. That abuse is the reason you wouldn’t testify. You were willing to go to jail rather than let it go public.”
“I was,” he says. “But I’m an arrogant son of a bitch, and I don’t think I ever really believed that the court would convict me. I don’t think I believed that I could lose you.” He strokes his thumb along my chin. “But I lost you anyway, Nikki, and I had to make a decision. And the truth is that I’m doing fine. I wouldn’t call it an ideal situation having my private life be the topic of editorials and talk shows, but I’m surviving. And it was my choice. Not a decision forced on me because my lawyers said I needed to put up a defense, but a real, honest decision where I weighed what I have and what I fear against what I want.”
I shake my head, not following.
“What I mean is that there is only one thing that could rip me apart more than those photos—that did rip me apart—and that’s losing you. So I balanced the weight of my past against the promise of my future.” He brushes a kiss over my lips. “The future won.”
My smile is watery. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. About secrets and shadows. I needed you to believe I was really breaking up with you.”
“You were right,” he says.
“No, not entirely. But we don’t have to argue about it. I know damn well your secrets aren’t going to start spilling out just because I won that argument.”
His smile is soft. “You probably have a point.” His eyes soak up my face, and a small smile plays at his mouth.
“What?” I finally say.
“I’m just happy you found me.” He frowns. “How did you find me?”
I allow myself the smallest of smug smiles. “Sweetheart, I will always find you.”
“I’m very happy to hear that,” he says. His fingers trail down my arm, bare beneath my paint-splattered tank top. I’d been too eager to find Damien to bother changing out of my crappy clothes, though I did manage to take a shower yesterday, so I’m not totally disgusting. The trajectory of his hand shifts, and he cups my breast, his thumb flicking lightly over my nipple, and each tiny tug sends a hot wire of electricity jolting through my belly and down to my sex.
As if he’s curious about the effect his touch has on me, Damien trails his hand down, leaving my breast to ease lightly over my tank toward the drawstring waist of my shorts. “I want to know everything you did these weeks we were apart. I don’t want to feel like we’ve missed a moment of our life together. But, Nikki, I don’t give a damn about that now. All I want is you naked and wet and open for me.”
I meet his eyes, wait a beat, and then peel off my tank top. It has a built-in shelf bra, so I’m now naked from the waist up. “You can take care of the rest of that yourself,” I say, putting my hand on his and sliding our joined fingers into the shorts. I’m not wearing underwear, and I buck with pleasure when his fingers stroke my clit, then slide inside me.