Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sabrina

I turned my phone on to check in and see where Fin was, but turned it right back off again when the hundreds of notifications blew it up so hard I couldn't even open the Life360 app.

Swallowing back bile, I threw it in my purse. Hopefully Fin was okay and wasn't trying to reach me for any reason. Even if he was, he'd understand. Fin was easygoing. Cool like that. He had very few hot buttons, and me not answering was not one of them.

The notifications sent off a fresh wave of tears, so it was off to the bathroom to freshen up once more.

I blew my nose, washed my face and did my makeup all over again. To have something to do and stay busy, I found a roll of paper towels, some probably decade-old Windex and cleaned the bathroom mirror, sink and counters. I debated doing the toilet but Windex wasn't going to cut it and I wasn't a miracle worker. Or a maid.

My hands were shaking and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. Was it from the events of the past forty-eight hours or was it from being back here?

I shivered. I hated it here. The fact that this was where I'd run to was just a testament to how desperate I was. How badly I craved solitude and anonymity, and the ability to lick my wounds without paparazzi following me around, announcing to the world that's what I was doing.

Still, I'd come with basically no supplies other than the change of clothes I kept in my car and whatever was in my purse. Hopefully Finn remembered the necessities.

I heard the door creak open and almost sank to my knees with relief.

Checking my reflection one last time, I declared it as good as it was going to get, pasted on a smile that I hoped looked genuine, and flung the bathroom door open. It only took me a few steps to make it to the center of the house, where I had a perfect view of the rest of the place.

The front door was wide open, and the bathroom door I'd just come out of, but the doors to the bedrooms and closets were closed.

Fin wasn't there.

Outside the wind shrieked, banging the door shut. A classic scene for a horror film setup. A shiver ran down my spine, but I ignored it. This wasn't a horror movie—I was just on edge.

Fin probably had a bunch of stuff to carry in, and he'd gone back out to the car to grab it. That had to be it.

I'd help him. I'd help him, and heat up a can of soup or whatever he'd brought for us to eat and curl up while watching a movie on his laptop via my hotspot. And we could lock the doors, I thought as I nodded to myself, pleased with my plan.

I took a step forward intending to do just that and opened my mouth to call out his name.

Someone grabbed me from behind, one hand around my waist, the other over my mouth, tight. Preventing me from screaming.

I knew without turning that it wasn't Fin.

The body was harder, stouter, taller. The scent wasn't his clean, fresh, piney musk either. This was darker, muskier, mintier, with a hint of whiskey.

My heart raced. My palms grew sweaty. My body went into fight or flight mode as I scanned the small house for something to use as a weapon.

Not that I needed one. I'd taken years of self-defense classes at Fin's insistence. Whoever was behind me, I could knock them off their feet in one kick.

So why wasn't I? The only answer that made sense also made no sense. But there was a hint of familiarity in the feel of the body pressed against my back, though that didn't make any sense either. Surely my brain was playing tricks on me in my distress.

Damon—at least the Damon I'd known—was thin, wiry, muscled but not muscular, and yet… Yet my brain wanted it to be him. The devil I knew.

It wasn't possible. And this wasn't him. Tears filled my eyes, and just as I was figuring out what move to use on this guy to get him off his feet, and how fast I could get into the kitchen to grab a knife, his hand moved off my mouth and closed around my neck and his breath was hot in my ear.

"Hey there, babygirl. Guess who?"

And then I knew. My brain hadn't been playing tricks on me, after all. Time had. Because the body pressing into mine—the not thin, not wiry, muscular, not muscled body—belonged to him.

Him.

Damon Michael James.

The hand around my neck was his. The one that dropped down my waist, over my hips and across my front to squeeze my pussy through the front of my dress… was also his.

And when a hot tear coursed down my cheeks to land on his knuckle, it was his voice that whispered in my ear the five words I used to pray to hear.

"Don't cry, babygirl. Daddy's home."

* * *

Damon

Her body pressed against mine was like coming home. She was thinner now, layers of high school baby fat disappearing had hollowed out her cheekbones, and slimmed her hips and waist. I knew that from the movies I'd seen her in over the years.

Her perfume was no longer cheap pharmacy body spray, instead she smelled rich and sexy. The notes indulgent. But there was something about her that just felt right.

"Damon," she breathed. My name sounded so sexy on her lips. But I couldn't let her speak. Couldn't take a chance that she would scream. Couldn't take a chance that someone would hear her and come to her rescue. Even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Not yet. Not before I got what I wanted. My sweet revenge.

Keeping my grip tight, I spun her to face me and crowded my body with hers, forcing her backward until she was pinned between me and the wall. Her breasts, perfect C-cups, heaved with each breath she took. Her eyes locked on mine, and I could see the fear there, but I also saw the arousal.

A tear fell down her cheek, and I wiped it with my knuckle. "Aww, babygirl. You shouldn't be crying, not when you just did your makeup so nice for me."

Her eyes, usually a blue that was so bright they almost sparkled, narrowed into dark slits. "Damon." She gasped my name out on the cusp of a sob. "Damon… What… What are you doing here?" She swallowed hard. Her body shook, but I couldn't tell if it was from fear or the weight of her sobs. "You're… Did you…?"

The accusation was clear, even with so few words spoken. That was how well I knew this woman. She wanted to know if I'd broken out of jail, as if that were so easy to do and happened outside of her stupid movies.

I scoffed. "I got time off for good behavior. I've served my time, babygirl. The only one here with a debt to pay, is you."

Her eyes widened, searching mine. "I didn't… I was just a kid, Damon. What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to wait for me!" The declaration came out in a growl, far harsher than I'd intended to, rage for what I'd lost rushing through my body. She knew what she'd done, and I wasn't going to stand here and listen to her play the innocent victim.

With a step forward, I pressed my body against hers, with my hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders, blocking her in.

"How… How did you know I was here?"

"I saw it on the news, baby. When the scandal broke. When the world found out who you really were. When they found out about me." I shrugged and let the corner of my lips turn up into a smile. "Or maybe I was the one who broke the story. Maybe I just wanted to get you here."

The soft gasp made her lips fall open. "But… how did you know I'd come here? I never come here. I have money now. Lots of it. I could have gone anywhere."

I shook my head and scoffed. "Because, babygirl, I know you. And having money isn't the same as having places to go. Especially if you don't want the paps to follow you."

Another tear fell, and again, I caught it. This time on the tip of my finger, which I lifted to my mouth. With my eyes locked on hers, I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip of my finger, lapping up the salty drop. "Face it, baby girl. After that trip down memory lane, there was nowhere else you were gonna go."

She looked like she wanted to bolt. Jutting my leg out, bent at the knee, I shoved it between her thighs, forcing them open.

Knowing she wasn't getting away, that there was nowhere she could go that I wouldn't be able to get her, I moved my hand from the wall to cup her chin, pinching it between my fingers.

"I laid the trap, and you walked right into it. Ran even. Back to the scene of the crime. Back home. Back to Daddy."

"You're not... That was a long time ago, Damon. You're not… that… anymore."

She was refusing my title. That was a development I hadn't planned on. And one I wouldn't accept.

"Oh? I'm not?" Smirking, I dragged my hand beneath the hem of her dress, up her inner thigh, across the seam of her panties, until I was cupping her mound, with only the thinnest layer of silk between my fingers and her clit. I rubbed hard and felt it pebble beneath my touch. "Your pussy says otherwise, babygirl. You know what it says?"

Her pupils dilated and her throat constricted when she swallowed. Her mouth opened and moved like she was going to answer me, but at first no words came out. Finally, she stuttered. "Wh-What?"

"It says ‘forever and always'. That's what we said, babygirl. That's what you promised me. And now, I've come to collect on that promise."

She had the gall, the audacity to roll her eyes at me. She gave her head the slightest shake of denial and said, "Damon, that's not… We were kids. We didn't know any better. I thought I meant it, but things changed. You can't just come back here and take what you think is yours based on some stupid promise made by lovestruck teenagers who were basically the only good things in each other's lives."

There was a time I might have taken her words to heart. There was a time I might have listened. But years behind bars had changed me. Now her denial only served to fuel the fire within. The more she said I couldn't, the more determined I became that I would.

As if to prove that to her, I growled, dipped my head and lowered my mouth onto hers.

She tried to fight at first. There was a hint of resistance. I had to fight to get her mouth to open for me. I had to force my tongue between her lips, but once I was there, it was suddenly like no time had passed. Her shoulders relaxed. Her tiny hand wrapped around my neck, while the other held my waist. Her body melted into mine.

She was making this too easy. I didn't want it to be easy. I wanted to make her hurt, the way she had hurt me.