Damian's Sacrifice #2

See, I told you it would be here.  As promised, the highly anticipated continuation of Damian's Sacrifice.  I hope you guys enjoy it as much as last week's.  And there's more to come.  Same place, same time next Monday ;)

She must be nuts.  Wacko.  Three fries short of a happy meal.  Insane.  Was she really going to leave the relative safety of the Cascades parking lot and get on the back of a motorcycle with a complete stranger?  One she’d literally just bumped into?

Horror movies started out much the same way.  Girl meets guy.  Girl trusts guy.  Guy takes girl to secluded spot.  Guy cuts clueless girl up into a thousand pieces.  But, there was something about him.  A feeling deep down she couldn’t deny.  It made no sense, but she felt safe with him. 

Protected. 

It didn’t hurt that he was the textbook definition of tall, dark, and handsome.  He towered over her five foot six.  Had to be at least six-two.  His jet-black hair—cut shorter in the back—rested beside his coffee-colored eyes.  Tan skin accentuated the well-defined muscles stacked all over his body.  The black t-shirt he wore barely contained his mass, hugging the chiseled lines across his chest and stomach.  She’d never wanted to be a shirt so bad in her life.

Cara met his expectant gaze, a warm smile teasing his lips, and her fate was sealed.  There was no turning back, no further hesitation.  Her ass was going to be on that motorcycle, with her arms wrapped around him.

“No, but I’ve always wanted to.  And today is my birthday, so...”

“In that case, I insist.  I wouldn’t feel right denying a beautiful woman her birthday wish.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment and she dropped her gaze to the ground.  No one as sexy as Damian had ever even noticed her, let alone called her beautiful.

When she mustered the nerve to meet his eyes, his grin widened.  At least I am amusing him.  She returned his smile as she pulled the helmet over her head, leaving the visor raised.

He swung his right leg over the bike, sliding forward once he was seated.  As the engine fired up, so did her body.

“Your chariot awaits.”  His voice was slightly raised, but the engine was relatively quiet for a motorcycle.  Thank God it wasn’t a Harley, or she never would have been able to hear him.

“Use my shoulders to balance yourself, and be careful of the exhaust pipe.”

She did as he had, swinging her right leg over to rest on the foot peg, keeping a light hold on him until she was in place.

“Slide in so you can wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight.”  He shifted on his seat, pressing his back into her chest as she did what she was told.

Cara pulled the visor down and locked her arms around him.  He shot down the road.

The warmth of his body combined with the vibration of the engine awakened every single nerve ending she had.  In her fantasies, she’d been able to feel the wind against her face, but she couldn’t say she was disappointed that the helmet was blocking it.  With a man like Damian in her arms, feeling the breeze came in dead last on her list of desires.

It didn’t take long before they arrived at a little hole-in-the-wall diner she knew well.  Betty’s.

She hopped off, removing the helmet and leaving it on the seat.  Once he cut the engine, he moved to face her, his mouth a tight slant.

“I know this place looks kinda run down, but...”

“They have the best coffee in Freemont.”  She couldn’t hide her amusement as a sigh escaped his lips, his shoulders relaxing.  “And they have a pecan pie to die for.”

“After you.”  He held the door open for her.

“Such a gentleman.  Thank you.”  Her heart fluttered as she passed by him, taking in his wonderfully masculine scent.  It made her want to skip the coffee and pie, and treat her body to dessert instead. 

Good lord, am I in heat or something?  Slow the fuck down, woman.  You don’t even know his last name for heaven’s sake.

His hand slid to the small of her back as he ushered her to a booth on the back wall.  It was like he wanted to be able to see the whole restaurant from that one spot.

She mourned the loss of contact as they sat opposite each other. 

The waitress shuffled over, carafe and mugs in hand.  Cara watched the shaky hand pour their coffee, ashamed to be grateful the woman was elderly.  It was pathetic to admit, but her gut clenched at the thought of him lusting after another woman. 

Damian’s eyes shifted to her, his brown gaze intense.  She forced herself not to squirm in her seat.  What was he thinking?

The silence was driving her crazy.

“So, do you have a last name?  Or is it just Damian?”  She smiled as his mouth curved at one corner.  She’d always been a sucker for a lopsided grin.

“I suppose we should be properly acquainted.  It’s Fisher.  Damian Fisher.”  A flash of emotion passed over his features, but he looked away before she could identify it.  If it had even been there at all.

“Your turn.”  He kept his gaze averted as he spoke.

“Cara McKenna.  I know.  My name is more A’s and C’s than anything else, but what can I say?  I’m from a proud Irish family.”  She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee.

“It’s a beautiful name.”  His warm eyes finally returned to hers.  “What is it that you do, Cara McKenna?”

Her mind blanked.  Coming from his lips, with his husky voice, her name did sound beautiful.  A shiver shot down her spine, her core heating.  Wait, he’d asked her something hadn’t he?

“I... I’m a sculptor.  My newest commission is a piece for the children’s hospital.  I should be starting it next week.”  Her cheeks warmed again.  Was she ever not going to blush around him?  “What about you?  I’m dying to see if my hunch is correct.”

His eyebrows perked up.  “What do you think I do?”

“Well, I’d say you’re military.”

“I am indeed a soldier, in training for a special assignment.”  Something in his expression changed, darkening his eyes.

Damn.  It had reared its ugly head after all.  Her uncanny ability to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment.  Which was why she wasn’t in a relationship, and why she had been set up on a blind date for her birthday.  Way to go, Cara.  She prayed she could salvage the rest of the conversation.

“It makes sense.  Your reflexes are lightning fast.  And, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this booth gives you the best view of your surroundings.  Besides, with a body like yours, and that gorgeous black hair, you could be the Man of Steel himself.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d told me your name was Clark Kent or Kal-El.”

She slammed her eyes shut, dropping her head in shame.  She’d just geeked out about comic books in front of the hottest guy on the planet.

When she finally summoned the courage to look at him, he was sporting that lopsided grin of his.

“So, you’re a DC Comics kind of girl, huh?  I’m with you a hundred percent.  Although, Superman isn’t really my style.  Batman is my number one.  He has all the cool toys.”

Cara fought the urge to gape.  Damian, the embodiment of pure masculinity, was into comics.  The night was turning out so much better than she had ever expected.

He chuckled.  “What?  Can’t a grown male like to read?”

“Sorry.  This is usually the part where the guy runs like hell to get away from me.”

His brows furrowed, lips pressing into a firm line.  “Idiots.  All of them.  But, I’d rather talk about something not involving you and another guy.  Why don’t you tell me more about the sculpture you’re doing for the hospital?  It sounds like you’re really excited about it.”  The tension in his expression eased, and he flashed a smile.

They continued getting to know each other for what seemed like hours.  She was so glad she’d decided to take a chance on the man who’d actually knocked her off her feet.  He’d completely turned her birthday around, from something she had been dreading all week long, to a surprisingly nice evening.

“I guess it’s time we get you back to your car.  I don’t want you too tired to drive home.”  An awkward silence followed, the kind that always accompanied reluctant goodbyes.

She nodded her head, unable to find her voice.  She felt like Cinderella.  The clock was striking midnight and her coach was about to turn back into a pumpkin.

The ride to Cascades’ parking lot was far too short.  Cara could have stayed crushed against Damian for the next decade, and still not had her fill.  The bike came to a stop, and after planting his feet on either side, he motioned for her to dismount.  As she slid off, the separation of their bodies left her cold.

Once he stood beside her, she returned his helmet, forcing a smile.  Her chest constricted as he turned to place the helmet on the seat.  Watching him ride away was going to tear her heart out.  Why am I so attached to him?

“Thank you.”  She barely recognized the shaky voice as her own.

“For what, Cara?”  Her name leaving his lips made her whole body weep.

“For giving me the best birthday I’ve had since I was eight, when my dad took me horseback riding.”

He traced his fingers down her cheek, stepping in close.  As he tilted her chin, forcing her gaze up, she lost the ability to think.

“I’m not done yet, beautiful.”  His deep whisper carried the promise of mind-blowing pleasure.

Damian closed the distance between their mouths, lips soft as velvet brushing against hers.  His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her into him, their bodies melding together.  He opened his mouth over hers, tongue diving in, exploring every corner.  When he fisted the hair at the back of her neck, she sucked in a breath, passion scorching her body.

The kiss shot into overdrive as he took control, lips moving hard against hers, his tongue penetrating her over and over.  He moaned into her mouth, the vibration buckling her knees.  His hold on her was the only thing keeping her upright.

When he pulled away, she bit back a cry of protest.

“I’m sorry.  I lost control of myself for a second.  I didn’t mean to...”  He dragged his hands down his face.

“Please don’t apologize.  I’ve wanted you to kiss me since I was in your arms at the bar.”  She didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but it was the truth.  And with her body on fire after that kiss, she didn’t want him to ever stop.

Reality set in that they were about to part ways.  Maybe for good.  The sting inside her chest stole her breath. 

Was she really that desperate?  Lonely?  While she wasn’t a prude, inviting a guy back to her apartment on the first date was something she has never done.  Never even considered doing.  But, she wasn’t ready to say goodnight, either. 

Their eyes locked, and she struggled with her emotions.  Desire for him.  Her self-respect.

Could she live with herself if she asked him to stay the night?

“Damian, I...”

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