Author's Note: Hey guys! So, I was going to wait to upload because the last chapter didn't recieve many votes/comments to read ratio, but I decided to try again by making this chapter extra long and juicy. Thank you to mmeww51 for being the first comment on the last chpater! Dedication to you! There is some slightly PG-13 material in this chapter children--NO sex, but just be warned! Hope you enjoy!!!

Chapter 9

Damien flies down the highway, slowly making his way out of the downtown district towards the suburbs on the other side of town. Some part of me is screaming, telling him to stop his bike. I don’t know him, and this isn’t safe. He could be a complete psycho for all I know. Then, there is the hormonal drunk teenager part of me that is currently feeling his rock hard muscles that are rippling under my hand; that part of me is saying that this is all perfectly fine. I mean, he did save me from the club creeper. How bad could he be?

The bike is slowing down, and I notice we are coming to a stop at a red light. I feel him place his hand over mine which is on his stomach. When our skin touches, I get this tingling feeling throughout my whole hand that radiates up my whole arm which only gets worse when he links his fingers with mine. Unfortunately, it all ends too soon when the light turns green and he has to take off, leaving my hand suddenly very cold.

Luckily, we are still in a semi-populated district with lots of stop signs and red lights. Like at the last red light, when we come to a stop, Damien takes his hand of the handle bar of his Harley to link it with mine. I begin anticipating his touch the second we begin slowling down, and It is nice to be rewarded with the warm sensation when our hands connect again. It feels nice to have our hands connected like this.

Without meaning to, I let my mind drift to the way I feel when Cameron is touching me. When our skin brushes, even for a second, it is like pure electricity is running through my very core. The way his lips and body feel when pressed against me; the mere thought of it leaves my cheeks red. Without realizing it, I’ve managed to pull myself dangerously close against Damien; there is no room between our bodies now, and in the process of getting into this wonderful position, I have thoroughly managed to let my dress hike to above my butt, exposing my lacey black panties which I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the wolf whistle coming from the black Mustang that pulls away before I get a good look at the drive and passenger who looks strangely like—no that couldn’t have been him. Standing slight, I pull down my dress and situate myself back down on the bike with a little bit more room between me and Damien. The second my arms wrap around his waist again, we are off.

Finally, we come to a stop outside of a small, well lit diner with a huge red fluorescent sign over it identifying this place to be Nora’s. I still have my arm wrapped around Damien’s waist when he quickly jumps off the bike, and I lose my balance slightly, causing me to tilt dangerously to the left. Luckily for me, Damien is like a freaking ninja and he grabs me and the bike before we both hit the ground. Using those beautiful biceps of his, he pulls my arm in sync with the bike so I’m straddling it again in an upright position.

The heat goes straight to my cheeks, and I refuse to meet his gaze. I can hear him choking back his laughter which only makes me blush more profusely. All alcohol that had been circulating through me back at the club has officially left my system. Oh, if only I was drunk right now, I really wouldn’t mind this whole embarrassing-myself-in-front-of-a-really-hot-guy thing so much.

“Ace, please get off the bike. It is getting a little cold out here.” Holding out his hand, Damien gives me a silent plea to hurry my ass up and get off his bike. I look at him to see him managing to keep a straight face, but his eyes give away the fact that he is still laughing on the inside. Grudgingly, I let him help me off the bike and lead me into the diner where he picks out the corner booth in the far corner away from the other two customers who don’t acknowledge our presence even after we set off the little chime above to door.

Sliding in on the opposite side of the table, I study my surroundings in an attempt to ignore Damien so my cheeks—and let’s face it, my whole body—can cool off for a bit. One look into those gorgeous green eyes, and I feel on fire. I make awkward eye contact with this middle aged woman who had been secretly staring at me, and here I was thinking the other customers didn’t notice us show up. Not knowing what to do, I jerk my eyes away and focus on the red and black décor that covers the room—red vinyl seat covering, black and white tables, black and white checkered floors, black and red wall art.

An older lady, probably in her mid-forties, makes her way to our table armed with a coffee pot in her right hand, and two menus in her left. “How you kids doing tonight?” Her New York accent is thick, and the gum she is smacking on isn’t helping it any. I make a noncommittal noise, but Damien brightens up at her presence.

“Hey May! Just got off work! How’s your night going?” May regards him with a slow look of curiosity, and I can literally see the wheels click into place as she realizes she knows him.

“Damien, kid, hows are ya? Yous haven’t been in here in forever!”

“I know. I’ve been really busy. This is the first time in a while I’ve gotten to work the first shift at the club without having to pull a double.” I nod my head along with the conversation like I have some great knowledge of what they are talking about, but alas, I do not. Still, I’m going to pretend I do because judging by the looks May is sending my way, she thinks I’m some trashy whore he picked up at the club which is true, except for the trashy whore part, and he didn’t pick me up in the sense that I’m going to sleep with him. He literally picked me up.

“What can I get yous guys?” She hadn’t even given us a menu, and I am about to point this out when Damien interrupts me, claiming we both will have his usual. I squint my eyes at him to convey the fact that I do not approve of him ordering for me, but he either doesn’t get my telepathic message or is just ignoring it. After a few more seconds of pleasantries that I’m not included in despite Damien’s whole-hearted efforts, May walks off to give our order to the cook behind the counter.

“So, what did you just order me exactly?” Damien sends me a devilish smirk in response to my frown.

“My usual order.”

“Thank you Sherlock. I was capable of figuring that out all by myself believe it or not.” Damien’s lip is twitching like mad, and it is obvious that he is doing everything in his power to not laugh at me right now. He is still trying to get his laughing under control, so he doesn’t say anything else on the subject. Fine, two can play that game. His usual just better be a lot of food because I am famished. Looking out the window, I go into my own little world that I don’t come out of until I feel a warm tingling starting at the back of my hand and spreading up my arm; Damien must be touching me again. Turning my eyes away from the window and to my hand, I find that I am right.

“Are you really mad that I ordered for you?” His voice comes out low and charming as hell. Add to the fact that he is doing this thing where he is looking at me from underneath his eyelashes while biting down on his bottom lip, and I am a complete puddle of nothing. I don’t even remember the question right now. I’m too focused on that lip he keeps biting. I wish those were my teeth instead. I wonder how he would feel if I would kiss him right now. Would he find it too forward? I don’t know. I do know that he needs to stop doing that though because it is distracting as hell.

“Are you staring at my lips?” I’m busted—big time. Lie! Which lie to tell, which lie to tell, which—wait! You have something in your teeth! No, he isn’t showing his teeth. That would be completely stupid, and not believable. Come on Amanda, you can do this! You are not one of those dumb blonde cheerleaders. You are smart!

“No! Why would you think I was staring at your lips?” My voice comes out a little higher than my normal pitch, and it cracks half way through. It’s official that I am the worst liar ever in the history of liars and lying games everywhere. Give me the crown because I am the King, or well Queen, of the worst liars. I demand a crown, and a throne, and a thing that thing that you hold that’s like a stick. Wait just one minute. Maybe I am not as sober as I would like to think I am.

“You were! You want to kiss me!” He holds out the ‘s’ in ‘kiss’ making it extra-long and snake like. Ugh, why can’t I be a better liar? Well, they say honesty is the best policy! Here goes nothing.

“Yeah, so what if I do?” This takes Damien for a loop, and the shock is written all over his face. He recovers quite quickly though, but I think it is only because May brings us our food. He would probably argue that it was due to his amazing player skill, but whatever.

May walks away, leaving two feasts sitting in front of us. On my plate, I have a little mountain of eggs, bacon, and hash browns; and in a separate bowl, I have a lake of grits; and a small stack of pancakes tower on their own separate plate. I’m just about to dive in—fork poised to go and everything—when Damien clears his throat and leans over the table towards me. Being the person that I am, I lower my fork and lean forward a little. We sit just close enough to touch, but we don’t. I’m silent for a few seconds, waiting for Damien to speak.

“Then, I think we should do something about it.” It takes me a minute to realize that this is his response to what I said before May brought us our food. He is talking about us doing something about me wanting to kiss him. We are leaning closer and closer to each other, and now all I would have to do is lean forward another centimeter and our lips would be touching.

“Just not right now.” He slams back into his booth and begins to shove food in his face. Half way through his plate of food, he stops long enough to give me a smirk for what, I don’t know, but I don’t care. There is something about him that makes me forget about the world around me. More importantly, I haven’t really been dwelling on Cameron. There have been a few moments where I caught myself comparing the two guys, but where Cameron is all moody and mysterious, Damien seems to be fun and open; where Cameron is a total jackass, Damien seems like a nice guy who doesn’t want to hurt me. The list goes on and on, and let me just say that it doesn’t actually go in Cameron’s favor. Except for the part where when Damien touches me it cannot compete to the way it feels when Cameron just grazes my skin. That’s probably only because I just met him. If we kiss, I’m sure I’ll feel that same electricity. I mean, I’ve been—no was—in love with Cameron for a very long time, and I just met Damien. Those type of feelings take time to progress. I can’t just expect instant butterflies and feelings of utter happiness whenever he walks into a room when I’ve only ever been in two rooms with him.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I eat the eggs, pancakes, and bacon that Damien ordered, but I can’t manage to eat through the hash browns and grits. It is way too much food, and here I was worried that there wouldn’t be enough. If my dress zipper busts open, he is buying me a new dress because it is his fault that I ate so much. I couldn’t turn all that delicious food down!

“I’m stuffed.” I groan and lean back into my seat. There is no way I’m going to be able to move for a few minutes.

“But I don’t remember doing anything, and trust me, you aren’t the kind of girl I’d forget.” Popping my head to the side, I give Damien a quizzical gaze in an attempt to get him to explain himself. He gives me a guilty smile.

“In England, ‘I’m stuffed’ means ‘I just had sex.’” I feel the heat rise to my face, and Damien has a laugh at my expense while asking May to bring our check. I try to pull the money from my bra and hand it to him to pay for my share, but he pushes my money filled hand away.

“My treat Ace; your money isn’t good here.”

“Oh really? Where is it good then so I can repay you?”

“Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter where you are. If I am there, your money will never be good.”

A hundred watt grin makes its way to my face, and I can’t help myself because that was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard in my life; I give Damien a quick peck on the cheek. In return, Damien gives me a back a smile to rival my own before getting up to pay the ticket. I follow wordlessly behind as he gives the money to May (leaving her a tip that exceeds the quality of service if I do say so myself) and heads back out to his bike.

“Have you ever driven one of these before?” Damien asks while motioning towards his bike.

“No, never.” I don’t like the look he has on his face as he climbs on his bike, not leaving me enough room to climb behind him.

“Damien scoot forward. I’m flattered that you think I’m that tiny, but I’m not.” His only response is to scoot farther back and tap the space in front of him. Oh, hell no. I am not going to be driving this two-wheeled death trap. It is safe when an experienced person is driving, but an un-experience, clumsy, spacey person—like me—should not be allowed to drive this motorcycle, or any motorcycle for that matter.

“Amanda, chill girl. I’m going to be pretty much doing everything. You’ll just be sitting in front of me with your hands on the bars.” He gives me an encouraging wave in response to my weary glare, but he refuses to scoot forward. Well, if I’m not really driving, this can’t be that bad. Right?

Throwing my leg over in a way that I won’t flash anyone within my line of vision, I climb in front of Damien. I put my hands in the appropriate location and wait for Damien to crank it or whatever the motorcycle equivalent is. Suddenly, I feel Damien press himself against my back, and I can feel every muscle in his body as he moves his hands to start up the bike. I feel his hips shift into me slightly as he kicks down on something, but I’m not focusing on that. I’m focusing on the feeling I’m getting below the stomach if you get my drift when he is pressing into me. To say I’m turned on is an understatement. I lean back into him slightly as we set off on the street, and I can feel his breath caressing the back of my neck. The urge to turn around and straddle the bike backwards is overcoming me in a not so subtle fashion. Is this what he felt like when I was pressed up against him because this is complete torture, and I apologize profusely for doing that, even if it was an accident.

When we come to stop at a yellow light, I expect him to scoot back a little bit, but he doesn’t. He moves closer if that is possible, resting his chin on my shoulder, and one of his hands on my outer thigh. I feel him begin to press small, barely there kisses along my shoulder and up my neck, stopping only to nibble on my ear. I close my eyes and tilt my head back slightly, not objecting to his hand moving to my inner thigh, making a small circular pattern well below the no-no leg zone but just high enough to turn me on like there is no tomorrow. Just like that though, he stops and the bike starts moving again. I’m not going to lie, it takes me a good few seconds to recover from what he just did to me, and he isn’t turned on at all. Trust me, I would know because we are that close. Well fine, two can play that game.

Pushing my hips back a little, I move us closer if that is even possibly, but I don’t move my hips. I just keep them there, during every bump, curve, and turn. I feel him tense slightly and let out a shallow growl, but I don’t stop. I just keep pushing back into him, moving a bit more than necessary on the bumps until I can feel him moving under me. He is at full attention by the time we get to the next stop light which is when I decide it would be a good time to stop adjusting my seat, so I sit still again.

“I live in Sundown, so you need to take the right after next.” I pass on the information like it is no big deal. It’s not like we are messing with each other’s hormones or anything on his bike. We are just going for a casual bike ride back to my place. Or that’s what I’d like to believe when, Damien twists my body slightly so that I’m facing him. From the one look of lust on his face, I know what he is going to do before he does it. That’s why I’m not surprised when his lips come crashing down on mine. Our tongues our dancing in a dangerous tango that ends all too soon when the light turns green and we our off again. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not thinking this through at all. I should not be doing this with a guy I just met. I’m not a slut. It’s just that when he touches me; I don’t think, not at all.

Luckily for me, the next three lights are all green, and we make it into Sundown without having to stop again. I direct him down the intricate streets, and we come to a stop in front of my house where there are two cars waiting for me. Crap, I forgot Maria and Cameron are here, healing me back to “health.” I scramble off the bike and Damien does the same. His happiness is even plainer now that we are standing up, and I feel a little guilty for doing that to him when I have no intention of doing anything else with him for a very long time, if ever.

“Goodnight Damien. Thanks for the ride.” I go to walk away, but I stop when he wraps his arms around my waist, twisting me back into his chest.

“Can I come over sometime? Not to finish what we started, but to take you out on a real date at a real restaurant with real conversation. Trust me, tonight was not my finest of charming skills.” He is smiling down at me, and I really respect him for leaving so much room between us, so I give him a quick peck on the lips in agreement. I should have known better because as soon as our lips connect, the peck is no longer innocent. I feel myself backing up the rest of the five feet to the door, and suddenly, my back is pressed against it due to the fact that Damien is pressed against me. His tongue laces into my mouth; and just as I realize we are going too far, the support on my back leaves suddenly, forcing Damien and I to tumble backwards.

“Thanks for bringing her home douchebag. You can leave now.” I look up to see a very pissed off Cameron, hovering over us. When Damien doesn’t get off me fast enough, Cameron grabs him by the neck of his shirt and throws him out the door. I hear him yell that he’ll see me later, and then I hear the start of his bike, leaving me here alone to deal with Cameron.