Endless Love by Bianca Borell

Chapter Five

BRIA

I wake and stretch under the sheet and pat the space beside me, finding it empty. I sit up and study his room—dark gray walls and black furniture—while the sun peeks from between the crack of thick curtains, casting light on the silver accents, and the big, open space.

A moment later, Damien steps inside the room, carrying a tray. The aromatic smell of Italian coffee tickles my nostrils.

“Good morning, love,” he rasps in that sexy, hoarse morning voice. His lips curve into a smile as he lays the plate with fresh croissants and strawberry jam on the bed and cocks his head at me.

“What does my baby think about the room?” he questions, teasing me.

I scrunch my nose, pointing toward the space in front of me.

“It’s very male.” He chuckles.

“It’s what I asked for originally, but you can do whatever you want with this place.”

I move to kiss him, forgetting about the coffee, but he pushes it aside before embracing me. His rich scent invades my senses while I kiss every spot on his gorgeous face.

“Let’s eat. I’m sure you are hungry.”

But instead of the cockiness I’m used to, there’s a note of concern in his tone. I hate it.

“Don’t, Damien. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I won’t allow you to think I’m weak because of my heart condition. Are we clear?”

I might sound harsh, but he acts like I might break any second. This attitude won’t help us move forward, not even a little. He threads a hand through his hair, his eyes pleading with me to understand.

“You might like to pretend your heart condition isn’t still life-threatening, but I won’t. You can make it so I don’t treat you like this by taking care of yourself. For instance, where’s your medicine?”

“At home,” I answer. A pang of guilt strikes as his features harden. But it doesn’t last because I know he has some here.

“This is precisely what I mean.”

“Damien . . .”

He sighs, and a wave of shame crashes over me, and I blurt out, “I’m sorry. You’re right, but I didn’t know I’d spend the night with you. I’m sure you have some here, anyway.”

He grips my hands in his and presses our foreheads together. “Please eat while I get your medicine.”

He hops off the bed, and I follow him with my eyes. There’s a certain sadness he carries with him as he backtracks from the room. “Don’t be like this. I’ll do everything in my power to stay alive. I came back for you from the dead once already.”

Over his shoulder, his eyes bore into mine.

“Prove it, Bria.”

He returns and hands two pills to me. I swallow them and show him my empty mouth. He stands there, head shaking.

“But you still love me, right?” I try to lighten the mood, and he caresses my cheek.

“You’re my life. I not only love you. I adore you.” I scramble onto my knees, and he wraps his hands around my waist.

“It won’t happen again.”

He grabs me, and I cross my legs around his torso. He places a lingering kiss on my lips, and the tense atmosphere diffuses as Damien pecks the tip of my nose, and I giggle.

We eat, and he talks about his housekeeper, Stephanie, who comes three times a week to clean and cook, while I tell him about my plans to decorate. It doesn’t take long to finish our breakfast.

I eye his beard, threading my fingers through the scruff. I want to shave it. I just need to get him on board with my idea.

“I have an idea,” I say, sweetness rolling down my tongue.

“What are you thinking, baby?” he asks, alarm sounding in his tone.

I stifle a smile. “I don’t think I’ll like what you’re going to suggest.”

I barely hold myself together as Damien watches me. Caution transforms his features, and I say through bursts of laughter, “You didn’t even let me say it.”

“Because whenever your voice turns this sweet, something I won’t like comes out.” I pout, and he sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“Say it first, then we’ll see.”

“I want to shave you.”

I should have warned him first or waited until after drinking his orange juice, but I didn’t expect him to choke. His face turns a shade of purple, and I pat him on his back. When he composes himself, he says, “Are you trying to kill me before the wedding?”

I prop my hands on my waist, rolling my eyes at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll live a long, happy life. I’ll make sure you get your gray hair, Mr. du Sky.” He arches an eyebrow at me and cocks his head to the side.

“Do you remember what happened after a similar conversation? I ended up bleeding, in pain, and almost bald because you wanted to trim it just a little.” He parts his thumb and index finger to an almost inch to emphasize his words.

“I was younger then,” I huff my answer. He narrows his eyes at me, crossing his hands over his chest.

“You’ve practiced since?”

“I’ve grown wiser.”

“Baby . . .”

“Damien.” He nods, even if his face scrunches up in a panic.

An hour later, Damien’s face is smooth, but we run out of adhesive bandages. My time experimenting on him is officially over.

This is just another reason I love him. That although knowing the outcome, he still lets me have my way.

I kiss him while he smiles against my skin. I am so grateful for this second chance at life, at love.