Three
Spring break had finally arrived at Laramie, and hormone levels and booze consumption rates were steadily rising by the second. The streets occupied by the university's fraternity houses and residence buildings were particularly busy: most students were hurriedly loading their vehicles as they prepared for an out-of-town trip while others, with a flight to catch, were just as hastily sliding into the backseats of their booked Ubers. Either way, all of them, at one point or another, found themselves staring the moment they caught a glimpse of the extraordinarily handsome, elegantly dressed stranger walking past them.
He appeared too sophisticated to be a college student, but since he also appeared too well off to be faculty, everyone eventually (albeit not collectively) came to the conclusion that he could only be one of the three major Fs in one's life: family, friend, or fuck partner.
In truth, however, the man was actually either none or everything of the above, depending on who was being asked.
Damian sternly repressed the urge to smile the moment his gaze fell on the dark-haired girl seated atop her metallic pink luggage, gaze downcast while she idly kicked pebbles out of her way with the tip of her sneaker-clad foot.
He slid his hands into his pockets as he halted a few feet away from her. A pebble rolled towards him at the exact moment, and he heard Sarah's audible intake of breath when he struck it with the tip of his leather-clad shoe, and the pebble rolled back to her.
"Damian."
The breathy sound of his name on her lips still shook him to the core, and he had to clench his jaw against the urge to yank her towards him so she could say it again but closer, with her lips caressing his ear.
He saw her take a peek behind him, and he was bemused and concerned when her brows automatically furrowed. "What's wrong?" His long-legged stride had him reaching her in moments, but she irritably shook her head at his offer to help her up.
"You shouldn't have come here," Sarah muttered.
"Why not?" The silkiness of Damian's voice effectively hid the fact that her words had him bristling. "Do you have something to hide?"
"What do you think?"
She pointed to something behind him, and when Damian turned around, a part of him expected that he'd be greeted with the sight of a college boyfriend whose face he'd immediately want to punch. But instead...there were girls? A crowd of them, literally, and whose numbers still seemed to be growing by the second. What the fuck?
"That's why I didn't want you to come here," Sarah was grumbling as he turned back to face her. "This place used to be one of the few safe havens I had, you know. No one knew about you, so I never had to listen to another girl talking about liking you, falling in love with you, wanting to have sex—-" Sarah saw Damian frown and made a face. "I'm old enough to drink beer now. Can't I be old enough to say—-"
Damian's blue eyes had turned icy in disapproval now.
"Never mind," she said quickly. "Forget I said anything." She saw him instantly relax and had to hide her smile. Their secret little roleplay of Dom/sub had been going on for three years now, and the only reason she was eager to continue with it was because she had realized early on that he was only ever autocratic where she was concerned. To the rest of the world, his own father included, Damian had cultivated a mild-mannered veneer that had people endlessly praising him for his even temper.
A rather perverse way to make her feel special, Sarah knew, but she would take what she'd get.
They started walking, Damian taking charge of wheeling her luggage next to him while she kept pace on his other side.
"You never offered to pick me up before," she remarked.
"You never refused to take our jet back home before."
"Oh."
"Why did you?"
"I was thinking I should try being a little more independent—-"
"Perish the thought."
A smile broke out of her face. Sarah found these rare instances where Damian sounded British terribly sexy, but she knew better than to tell him. Querulous man that he was, he was likely to start acting and talking like a redneck just to piss her off.
When they reached the parking lot, Sarah couldn't help but gaze admiringly as Damian loaded her luggage into the trunk like it didn't weigh heavier than a basket.
"I spy muscles," she teased in her usual singsong tone.
He turned to her, saying gravely, "I spy drool."
What? She panicked right away and had only started checking the corners of her mouth when she saw the smirk that had unfolded over Damian's lips. Argh! She rushed forward to sock him on the shoulder, but he caught her hand mid-air, and Sarah immediately forgot all about revenge as her breath caught at his touch.
Damian, who was old-fashioned in the sense that he didn't like having a woman strike him for no reason, was about to gently reprimand Sarah for her actions when he belatedly noticed the way she was staring at him. Her lips were also parted slightly open in seeming invitation for a kiss, and the sight had him swiftly letting go of her hand.
"For fuck's sake, Sarah."
All thoughts of admonishment were immediately forgotten, and taking top priority was bundling Sarah into the passenger seat before anyone could catch a glimpse of the expression on her face, which was anything but sisterly.
Sarah could hardly contain herself as she watched Damian swiftly walked around the car to get behind the wheel. She waited until he had shut his own door closed before blurting out, "You still want me!" Her tone was joyous, almost bragging, but her dark eyes, full of ill-concealed relief, showed the true state of emotions.
Damian didn't even answer her, but she didn't care. She knew what she saw, and after all these years in which he had shown her nothing beyond brotherly affection, well...
"I know I promised you that night I'd forget what happened," she confessed, "but I lied."
Silence.
"I'm in love with you, Damian. I never stopped."
Still more silence, and just when she thought it would end there, she heard him say, "I know."
Four
Damian's deeply tanned skin was glistening with sweat by the time he hit the treadmill's Stop button, and his heavy-hitting run cooled down into a more leisurely walk. He reached for his phone before stepping off the machine, and a quick scroll showed twenty-plus messages waiting to be read...with over half of it coming from the girl he had dumped on the front steps of the family ranch.
Sarah: Please come back.
Sarah: I've only three days of spring break left.
Sarah: I promise we won't talk about the awkward stuff.
Sarah: Just come back home. Please?
He reached for his hydro flask just as another member of the gym approached him, a rich divorcée in her thirties who was on the prowl for Husband #4. "If you happen to be free tonight—-"
Sarah: If you come back today I'll give you a blow job. No questions asked before or after.
After reading Sarah's message, Damian ended up spewing water all over the divorcée's face.
Shit.
He gave the woman a curt apology before walking out on her, hell-bent on getting to the locker room before anyone noticed the sudden bulge behind his shorts. And there'd even be more trouble, Damian thought irritably, if people thought it was because of the woman he had accidentally spat out water on.