Read Online Accept Me by J. L. Mac - Free Book Online

vision of a Damon that has shut down and refuses to give a shit. I waged war with that Damon once already. I won the battle, but I’m not entirely sure that I’ve won the war. Seeing a look of cold indifference cross his handsome face is something I never want to see again. It nearly broke me the last time. Going through it again would exhaust every ounce of my resolve.
    Grams’ reunion with Noni about did me in today and I’m not sure I can go any further with this. I’m not sure that I should go any further. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep this to myself. They talked and talked and talked all day. I ate lunch with them but left them to it as soon as I had wolfed down my sub, never really entering into their conversation. Neither one of them gave it a second thought when I dismissed myself to get back to work. They kept right on talking until closing time and I ignored the nauseous feeling that my paranoia conjured up.
    Damon’s truck pulling into the drive draws me from the familiar murk of dismay. I watch his tall, rigid frame step easily from the cab and stride towards the front door. Just before stepping beneath the awning, his molten gaze drifts upward as if he feels me watching like I always feel him watching me. His expression is hard and I can tell he’s making a beeline for me. It’s difficult to tell if the tremble that’s taken over me is from the thrill of anticipation that those eyes elicit or the constant, uninhibited fear of the truth coming out.
    It takes all of thirty seconds for Damon to appear in the frame of our bedroom door. His wide shoulders take up all the space that the entry to our bedroom has to offer. I look to him and whether by conscious choice or reflex, I keep quiet. He stands there for a moment, looking disheveled and angry, but not speaking.
    Shit.
    My heart speeds and it has me feeling panicky. I want to say something. I should say something, but my brain is on a fucking vacation and left utter fear to housesit. Damon lifts his hand, holding up one finger, and takes long, determined strides towards our bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, leaving me confused. What the hell?
    He opens the door a moment later looking… exquisite. He has ditched the shirt and stands in only his slacks. The way he casually props himself against the frame of the door while meticulously drying those big hands of his has me scared and licking my lips like a famished dog. God, he’s beautiful. And he’s mine. Mine.
    “I—”
    “Shh,” he demands. He rights himself and prowls across the space between us.
    The sight of him coming for me has my body thrumming with a growing need. A need for every inch of him. A need to taste him. A need to drown my worry in a sea of lust and heat. A need to be okay. The moment he easily steps into my personal space, his scent inundates me, sending me sailing over the edge in desperation.
    “I want—” I begin to plea.
    His hands lift to my shoulders and turn me away from him to peer back out the window. He positions himself so painfully close to my backside that I involuntarily push back against him, eager to feel him. One hand finds its way to my stomach, where he unfolds his hand wide, covering nearly the full width of my abdomen. His lips make painfully soft contact with my earlobe, sending a shiver through me in all directions like a ripple through water.
    “Looks like I’m not the only one who knows how to keep secrets,” he whispers into my ear. His breath against my skin is feather light, completely contradictory to the lead weight that has just taken up residence in my throat. My heart stops in my chest and fear extinguishes the fire that he so easily lit.
    He knows.
    I’m frozen in every sense of the word. The brain in my head has been taken hostage by the all-consuming fear. My feet feel as if they’re cast in concrete and my stomach… well, let’s just say my stomach is about to expel the sub that I so hastily ate for lunch.
    Damon