A Pound of Flesh

Chapter 11: Making a Memory

Still slightly overcome with the shock of finding Jane at his door, dressed in a formal gown and looking like she’d lost her best friend, Damien ushered her into his kitchen area so she could compose herself while he hustled his friends out. With a fair amount of drunken complaining, they straggled out. Tom lingered.

“Can I meet ‘er?” he slurred slightly, swaying in his shoes.

“Not tonight, Tom. Another day.”

Tom made a face and then called over Damien’s shoulder, “Goodnight, Jane!” Then he froze, a look of dismay crossing his face. “That one is Jane, right?” he whispered to Damien.

“Who else would it be?” Damien hissed, bodily turning Tom and shoving him out the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“See if she’s got any friends for me!”

“Goodnight, Tom!” Damien said firmly, shutting the door. He hurried back to the kitchen, and found Jane leaning against the counter, wiping her eyes with a bedraggled tissue.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your night with the guys,” Jane said, her voice merely a broken whisper.

Damien crossed to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t be. They were probably going to leave soon anyway.” That was a lie, of course. Tom and the rest would have stayed for several more hours, or until he ran out of beer, but Jane didn’t need to know that.

She nodded, and her body shook with repressed sobs. He drew her against his chest and held her tight. She clung to him in a silence only punctuated by her shuddering gulps of air. He could feel her heart racing in her heaving chest. He was concerned to see her so upset. Since he’d met her, she’d been, without exception, a force to be reckoned with, strong and independent and fierce. But now she looked absolutely destroyed, and it scared him. “What happened?” he asked.

She shook her head sharply, and he took that to mean she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. He tenderly kissed her cheek, wet with tears, and murmured soothing words in her ear. She relaxed against him, and he could hear her trying to regain control. At last, she managed, “My ex is an arse. And weddings are hell.”

With a small laugh, Damien agreed, though he couldn’t remember ever having been to a wedding. Perhaps he had during his old life; maybe one day he’d be able to sympathize properly.

Jane sniffled against his shirt but offered no other explanation. She shook with slight tremors, though her sobs has stopped. Her skin felt cool to his touch and he rubbed his hands on her exposed back, attempting to warm her up a bit. He felt Jane’s hands clenching in the fabric of his shirt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he ventured after a lengthy pause. He felt her shake her head against his chest, and he took that as a no. “Do I need to kick his arse?”

Jane’s shoulders shook with a laugh that was muffled against his shirt. “I can handle him,” she assured him, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ve been working out, you know,” Damien continued, trying to lighten her mood with a bit of levity. He flexed his arms, still wrapped around her.

“Muscles,” she agreed. “You’d definitely win.”

They lapsed into silence again, and Damien guided Jane over to the couch. He brushed potato crisp crumbs from the cushions and eased her down. He finally got a good look at her as he sat next to her.

Jane looked incredible, even with her splotchy, tear-streaked face covered in running make-up. The green dress she was wearing made her look a bit like a princess from one of his fantasy books, and the fabric looked as if it were crafted of the same substance that made wind and clouds. Her normally wild hair had been tamed back into a mass of curls piled on top of her head. A small beaded purse hung from her wrist, and from this purse she presently dug out a crumpled tissue. She wiped at her face and stuffed the tissue back into the purse, and then looked up at him with a small, embarrassed smile.

“I must look terrible.”

Damien shook his head and ran his thumb under her eye, wiping away the dark smudge of bleeding mascara. “No,” he told her simply, repeating the motion under her other eye. “You look great.” He rested his hand on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.

She looked at him with gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thanks.”

“So it was a rough night, huh?” Damien asked sympathetically.

“It wasn’t all bad.” Her eyes grew thoughtful. “Some of it was really nice, but then I had a fight with Ron – ”

“Oh, is that your ex?” Damien asked, figuring that was why she’d cut off so suddenly.

She nodded and after a moment, leaned against him. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and her hair tickled his ear. “He brought a girl he knows I hate to the wedding, and they were hanging all over each other and they kept sending me these looks and all I could think of – ” She broke off again.

“What?”

Jane didn’t answer at first, and Damien was ready to repeat his question when she finally whispered something. He craned his head closer to her mouth, not sure he’d heard her properly, but hoping he had.

“I said, you. All I could think of was you.” She took a deep breath. “And I just – I didn’t want – I wanted – I didn’t want to be alone,” she finished in a rush.

Damien, feeling immensely pleased with her confession, kissed her forehead. She drew her knees up and covered her mouth as she yawned.

“Sleepy?”

“No,” she denied, yawning again. “It was just a long day and I got up early. But I’m alright.”

“If you say so.”

“I just – do you mind just holding me for a bit?”

“Of course not.” Damien shifted down on the sofa, and Jane followed him. He put his arm around her shoulders.

Jane turned her face into him, her cheek pressed against his chest over his heart, and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, you smell amazing,” she murmured. She snuggled closer to him, and Damien could feel the pleasant warmth of her body pressing against him through his shirt. Then she was still, and Damien closed his eyes and listened to her soft puffs of breath against his chest.

He felt the stirrings of arousal but tamped it down the best he could by focusing on the evening news, where the sportscaster was giving a play by play of the cricket game he’d watched earlier. He tried not to pay attention to her arm, which rested on his upper thigh dangerously close to his budding erection.

It was futile, though. The more he tried not to think about how thin her dress was or how good she smelled, or the fact that she’d come to him seeking comfort, the more he wanted to see what was under the dress, to bury his face in varying angles of her body and inhale the delicious aroma that was Jane, to comfort her.

As Damien was discreetly trying to peer down the front of her dress, Jane let out a delicate snore. He laughed at himself ruefully and roused her.

“Let’s get you out of that dress so you’re more comfortable, what do you say?”

Jane nodded sleepily, and Damien helped her to her feet. He led her to his bedroom and sat her in the edge of his bed. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse, which made a loud thud as it hit the ground.

“What have you got in there, lead weights?”

“Something like that,” Jane mumbled, sinking backwards onto the bed.

Damien found a pair of boxers and an old, soft t-shirt on the top of his clean laundry pile, and he brought these to Jane. When she made no move to get up, Damien stretched across the bed next to her, propping himself up on his elbow. “You’ll sleep better if you’re out of your dress.”

“Will you help?” she asked. “I can’t get it by myself.” She slowly sat up, revealing the back of the dress, which was laced together tightly with ribbons.

Damien was glad Jane’s back was to him at that moment, because if she’d looked back, she would have seen his face light up. She was sitting there like a gift, just waiting to be opened. He rearranged himself so he was sitting on the bed behind her. Then, with deft fingers, he undid the tie at the bottom of the bodice and slowly began to loosen the ribbons running up her back. Jane sighed in relief.

Unable to withstand the temptation of bare flesh, and Damien leaned forward to kiss Jane’s shoulder. She shivered against his lips and made a pleased sound. Without removing his lips from her shoulder, Damien reached up and sought out the hairclip keeping Jane’s hair up. He found it and released Jane’s hair. It fell in soft waves against his face and he inhaled deeply. She smelled of roses and fresh air and the ocean all in one.

Jane relaxed back against him, and Damien wrapped his arms around her. “Feeling better now?” She nodded, making an affirmative noise. “You’ll sleep better now,” he added.

“I’m not tired,” she denied, unsuccessfully smothering a yawn with her hand.

Damien nosed her hair out the way and planted a tender kiss on her cheek. “Come on, love, let’s get you out of that dress.” Jane nodded, and Damien helped her to her feet. She held the dress up modestly, one arm across her chest, and took the clothing that Damien offered her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, slipping from the room and across the way to the bathroom.

His trousers were somewhat tight, and Damien discarded them quickly. His erection sprang free and hung heavily in his boxer shorts. He heard water running in the bathroom and gritted his teeth in frustration. Now was not the time to be a horny tosser, but Gods! Jane was going to spend the night in his bed, in his arms. He felt himself growing even harder at the thought of her in his bathroom, possibly naked.

He ripped off his t-shirt and balled it in his fists. Briefly, he entertained the idea of servicing himself while she was taking care of her evening ablutions but reconsidered as he had no idea how long she would be washing up. However, he knew if he didn’t take care of the situation, Jane would definitely notice when she emerged from the bathroom.

He decided to chance it. He slipped one hand under the waistband of his boxer shorts and wrapped his fingers around his erection. Just then, however, the bathroom door clicked open and Damien swore, ripping his hand out of his underwear. He shook out the t-shirt clenched in his other hand and held it up in front of the apex in his boxers just as Jane stepped into the room, wrapped in a towel.

“Hi,” she said. She stopped just inside of the doorframe and looked at him. One eyebrow rose slightly, and he didn’t think he imagined her eyes traveling slowly up and down his body.

Inside his chest, his heart did a wild somersault, and he felt more blood rushing down into his erection as he noted how good Jane looked in nothing but a towel. Her hair stood out in a mass of curls around her head, and her face was scrubbed clean.

“Hi,” he managed.

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

His erection throbbed with pleasure that was almost painful. He was grateful for the fact that his t-shirt hid his arousal from her. He shook his head. “No, not at all. Everything you need should be in there.”

Jane stepped further into the room and Damien felt lightheaded as he saw a sliver of thigh in the part of the towel as she stepped up to him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. Her dark eyes, still red from crying, met his lustful gaze, and she leaned closer. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I won’t be long.” Before she left, she paused in the doorway again and cast a long look over her shoulder. She smiled slightly at him, and then left the room.

Damien waited until he heard the shower start, and then he ripped his boxers off. He groaned in relief as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft. Jane was naked in his bathroom, water streaming down her body in rivulets, perhaps her back arched as she tangled her fingers in her mass of hair. He groaned again and leaned back against the wall. He slid his hand up to his tip, rubbing his thumb across the small, slick slit, and then thrust forward. His eyes rolled back in his head and he pictured Jane’s breasts, sparkling with water as the shower pounded down on her.

He tightened his grip and grunted at the jolt of pleasure that coursed through his body. His legs trembled with the effort to stay upright as he pumped his hand up and down on his twitching, hard length. His breathing came in short pants, and the sound of the shower became muffled by the pounding blood in his ears. He pictured Jane kneeling in front of him, her full lips wrapped around his cock and sucking him off, and he whimpered, redoubling his efforts.

His other hand dropped to cup his balls, and he ran his thumb along the sensitive crease in the middle. His breath caught, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He filled his mind with images of Jane: sprawled on his floor, her beautiful skin standing out in contrast to the white shag rug; her body undulating to the music, her hips grinding against his as they danced. Vaguely, he was aware that he was chanting her name with every pump of his fist, and his cock jumped in his hand as he felt the pleasant tingles building in his lap that meant he was about to go over the edge.

He thrust into his fist, gripping his fingers so tightly around his throbbing member that it was almost painful. His body thrummed with the need to release, and he ground his teeth, wishing he could extend this and not rush his pleasure. He rubbed his sac with a circular motion, feeling the skin draw up and tighten. Almost, almost there…

Damien sagged against the wall, his knees going weak, and worked his cock in a frenzied pace, pulling at it firmly, milking his pleasure just a little bit longer. His heart was thundering in his chest, and he could feel his pulse pounding in the pulsating, aching shaft in his hand. He thought of Jane, her legs spread wide before him, of slipping himself deeply inside her, her hot, wet tightness.

His body shook with his climax, and he slipped down the wall, trying to stifle his cries as his release shot out to coat his palm. He leaned against the wall, gasping and trying to recover as his cock jerked in his hand. He heaved a huge sigh of pleased relief, once more able to hear the shower running, and wiped his hands off on the boxers at his feet.

Once his legs stopped shaking, Damien pushed away from the wall and snagged a pair of clean boxers from his laundry. He hopped into them just as the shower turned off. He hurried over to the bed and stuck his hand under the pillow, pulling out the journal, marked with a hawthorn twig. He slept just fine with this under his pillows, but he didn’t want Jane to find it. He knelt and placed it under the bed. He popped his head back up as the bathroom door eased open.

As he climbed to his feet, Jane came into the room, her damp hair hanging down her back in dark ringlets. A few locks hung over the front of her shoulder and soaked through the thin white t-shirt, and Damien’s eyes were momentarily drawn to the wet spots that were perfectly located over her shapely breasts.

“Up here,” she said wryly, and Damien smiled sheepishly at her, tearing his gaze away to look at her face, which was flushed slightly pink.

“Sorry, but they’re right there.”

Jane laughed and crossed to him. She wrapped her arms around him, and her breasts pressed against his chest. Her lips hovered at his ear, warm spurts of air brushing across his neck. He almost shivered at the sensation.

“I was sort of hoping you were going to join me in there.” Her lips brushed against his ear and Damien’s fingers twitched convulsively on her back. He groaned in disappointment at the lost opportunity as she laughed throatily at his reaction.

“I figured you’d want your space,” Damien sighed, pained.

Jane made a sound of dissent, and one of her hands on his back drifted down to grip a butt cheek. He was still sensitive from his earlier wanking, and when she ground her hips against his, he gasped and started back at the rush of sensations.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her face quizzical.

Damien shook his head, unable to form words. He dragged her closer, wishing he could throw her against the wall and shag her senseless. She began to trail her hands up and down his back, lightly scraping her fingernails along his skin. Damien slipped a hand under the shirt and caressed the small of her back. The other hand brushed the wet hair behind her shoulder as he bent to kiss her neck. She pulled back, however, and looked at him, her eyes intent.

“Do you want me?”

Damien nodded, making an affirmative noise, and bent for her neck again. She gripped his chin and forced his eyes back to her face.

“Say it,” she commanded, still gazing at him with heat in her eyes.

“I want you,” Damien groaned, feeling turned on by her sudden dominance.

“Do you need me?” Her hands slid down to the waistband of his boxers and tugged lightly.

“I need you.” And as he felt a fresh flow of blood rush to his cock, he realized he did need her.

“Tell me I’m the most amazing woman you’ve ever met.” She pulled his boxers down and used her foot to push them the rest of the way off. His renewed erection hung between them.

“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” he repeated emphatically.

Her eyes flashed brilliantly at him and she pulled his face so close that her lips just brushed against his. She uttered two words, her voice low and sultry, and full of challenge. “Show me.”

Damien growled, narrowing his eyes and smirking at her challenge. “Hard or soft?”

She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his cock and tugged it. “Hard.”

Damien smashed his lips against hers hungrily, and she responded at once, parting her lips and driving her tongue in and out of his mouth. As he tangled his tongue around hers, he reached down and grabbed her thighs. He lifted her off her feet and she wrapped her legs around him. He could feel her heat through the thin silk boxers she was wearing, and his erection slid lusciously against the fine fabric.

He pushed her body up against the wall next to his bed, and she cried out in his mouth. Her fingers raked down his back and clutched at his ass cheeks. He thrust his pelvis at her, nearly out of his mind at how good she felt against him.

As he ground his hips against her, he focused on her delicious mouth. He explored it with his tongue, wanting to taste every inch of it. He sucked on her lower lip, catching it in his teeth and nibbling gently. She made a small sound of pleasure and her eyes rolled back. He snaked his tongue out and traced her upper lip slowly before assaulting her mouth with another bruising kiss.

Damien slid his hands up Jane’s thighs and pressed her more firmly against the wall. Then he grabbed her hands and pinned her wrists above her head. She struggled for a moment against the constriction, but Damien held her hands in place easily with one hand. The other hand he slid down her arm, his fingers trailing along the tender inner part. She squirmed against him and Damien groaned. He reached between them and found one of her nipples, rock hard under the thin shirt. As he tweaked it between his fingers, Jane’s back arched, and she cried out. The sound hit him in the gut and traveled down the length of his shaft, which ached to be inside her.

He yanked at the waistband of the boxers with his free hand, and Jane dropped to her feet. Keeping her hands pinned above their heads, Damien yanked roughly at the boxers and pulled them down her supple thighs. She kicked them free and wrapped one long leg around his waist again. Damien ground his throbbing cock against the nest of tight, wet, brown curls between her legs. He struggled to control himself; if he slipped into her now, it would be over too quickly.

He ducked his head, sinking his teeth into the angle where her neck joined her shoulder. She cried out again, the lust evident in spite of the pain the bite must have brought. He inhaled her scent, still there in spite of the scent of his soap and shampoo on her freshly washed skin, and the mixtures of scents sent another bolt of pleasure through his body. He flicked his tongue across the bite and then began to suck, intent on leaving his mark on her.

She writhed against him, thrusting her hips against his erection. Sorely tempted to grant her what she wanted, Damien instead slid his hand over the damp t-shirt, finding one of her nipples under the wet fabric. He dropped his head and wrapped his lips around the cotton-covered nipple, giving it a hard suck. Jane moaned wantonly, arching away from the wall again. Damien increased his pressure on her nipple and laved his tongue against the tip. The sensation of her tight bud beneath the coarse fabric left him panting, and he lasted only another moment before he used his body to press her against the wall once more.

He returned to her lips for one more merciless kiss, and as he pulled away, they were both panting. “Now,” he said, and Jane wrapped both legs around his waist again. Damien aligned his hips and felt the tip of his shaft come in contact with her wet core. In one pounding thrust, he buried himself inside of her, his cry of pleasure mixing with her throaty moan.

She was so hot, and tight, and wet, and Damien gasped as he pulled himself completely out before driving into her again. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and he knew he would have marks there later, but it only made him hotter. He fumbled for her hands and pinned them, palms out, against the wall. He laced his fingers between hers and settled into a steady, pounding rhythm. The sound of the firm skin of her inner thighs slapping against his hips was like music to his ears, and he groaned as Jane breathed his name.

He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of her velvety hot cunt as he slid in and out of her. She was so tight, the friction was driving him out of his mind. With each thrust, her moans became louder. Damien untangled his hands and cupped her delectable ass. He tried to bury himself deeper into her, wanting to explore every single inch of that warm, tight haven.

Jane’s lips hovered over his open mouth, red and swollen. She grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled his face closer. He met her searching lips full-force, muffling a groan within the warm cavern of her mouth. She drove her tongue into his mouth in time to his thrusts.

Damien shifted, lifting her higher so he could get deeper inside her, and she released his head, crying out. He wanted to fill her; he wanted to crawl inside and live there in that tight heat. He increased his pace, greedy for the sensation of her slick walls sucking and caressing his hard cock.

He was so close, so close to the edge, and he buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply and groaning against her skin. Drops of sweat rolled from her face and hit his cheek. Damien raised his head, wanting to look at her gorgeous face beaded with sweat that was his doing.

He faltered as he looked at her, realizing it was not sweat falling from her face, but tears, great, fat tears which rolled down her cheeks. He stopped at once, the tingling in his stomach replaced by a swooping dread that he’d hurt her.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please, please.”

He touched her face, trying to prove to himself that there weren’t tears there. His thumb came away damp. “Jane…” he whispered, distressed. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“But – ”

She rolled her hips against him and he sucked a shocked breath between his teeth. “You aren’t hurting me. It feels amazing. Please, don’t stop.” She thrust herself upon him again and reached out to draw him close to her. She brought her lips down on his with fierce intensity, her hips grinding away on his cock.

Damien started again slowly, first one slow stroke. Jane’s head fell back and she gasped, “Yes.” Starting to understand they weren’t tears of pain on her face, he built up his pace again, and Jane urged him on, groaning for him to go faster, to go harder. Her cries grew louder, and he could feel her body shaking as he pounded her against the wall. His orgasm was cresting, but he held back, waiting for her. He rested his head in the curve of her neck, his teeth latched onto the flushed skin there. The tingle spread out, down his legs and into his toes, and up his stomach, into his chest, into his arms and fingers. He was panting and groaning, fingers clenching the firm thighs wrapped around him, and he willed her to come.

Her arms convulsed around him and her body arched; she thrust her hips forward to meet him as he pounded into her, and she came with a loud sob. The feeling of her cunt contracting around him drove him over the edge, and he let go, his legs nearly giving way. The wave of pleasure shot through him like a bolt of electricity, and he saw stars flash before his eyes. He cried out her name and thrust into her one, two, three more times. As he spilled himself inside her, he sagged, spent.

For several long moments, Damien rested his head on Jane’s shoulder, his breathing gradually slowing. Soon he was uncomfortably warm; Jane’s shaking body, smashed between him and the wall, was sticky with heat and sweat. Once his head stopped swimming, he tightened his grip on her and carried her to his bed, where he lowered her gently before stretching out beside her.

Jane took a ragged breath and covered her eyes with her hands. He watched as she pressed her lips together and her chin wobbled. Confused and not sure what was wrong, Damien rolled onto his side and put a hand on her stomach. “Jane,” he breathed. She let out a small groan. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head and let her hands fall limply to her sides. “Give me a minute,” she said, her voice shaking.

Damien’s mouth felt dry. He’d never had a girl burst into tears during sex before. He was at a loss, and swallowed thickly. “Do you want some water?” Jane nodded mutely, and he slipped off the bed. He found his boxers with his left foot and picked them up with his toes. As he hopped into them, he spotted the underwear he’d given Jane to wear, and he retrieved them. He put them on the bed next to the unmoving girl and said, “I’ll be right back then.”

He crossed the hall to the small, tidy bathroom which was still steamy from Jane’s earlier shower. He saw the green dress hanging on the hook on the back of the door and stared at it for a long moment. Something about the dress sparked recognition in him, but he couldn’t imagine why. Briefly, he imagined a huge, high-ceilinged hall, decorated like a fairytale castle, and dancing – skirts and capes swirling in time to the most enchanting music…

Thoughtful, Damien captured the skirt’s fabric in his hands, and he ran his fingers over it. But whatever recognition the dress inspired, the meaning of it hung just beyond his grasp, close enough to touch but blocked by some invisible barrier. How odd that this dress should feel familiar, but then again, Damien thought, so many things in his collection of things that inspired the sensation of remembrance were odd. Fantasy books, certain songs, pictures of dragons and castles, even the stick he’d broken off a Hawthorn bush and peeled clean…

He released the dress and shook his head. He would have to write it down later, tomorrow, if he got a chance.

He filled his water glass and returned to the bedroom, where Jane appeared to have not moved, except that she’d put the loaned boxers back on. For a moment, he thought she’d fallen asleep, but as he sat on the edge of the bed, she opened her dark eyes and regarded him. He held out the glass, and she sat up and took a long drink.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to…”

Damien took the glass out of her hands and set it on the bedside table. “It was definitely a first for me. I’ve never made a girl cry during…”

“It was a first for me, too.” She leaned back, her head in the pillows, and stared at the ceiling. “It wasn’t you.”

Damien reclined next to her and slid his arm under her head. “I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he began.

“No,” Jane agreed, but she rolled onto her side and rested her head on his shoulder. Damien wrapped his arm around her and held her against him.

“But maybe you should,” he finished.

Jane was quiet and Damien didn’t press her. So he was surprised when she said, “I was just… I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Overwhelmed?”

“By everything.”

“Everything?” Damien echoed.

Jane sighed and pressed a hand over his heart. “Everything,” she repeated softly. “Ron being a git, my friends getting married, some – some work stuff… There’s just so much I would rather not…” She trailed off, but Damien sensed there was more to come, so he simply listened. “I envy you.”

Damien shifted so he could get a good look at her face. “Envy me?” he repeated. “Why?”

“You don’t have to remember.”

“How is that a good thing?”

Jane sniffled against his chest, and at length, met his eyes. “Don’t you ever think maybe it’s a good thing you can’t remember your past? Like maybe something so terrible happened that you don’t want to remember?”

Thoughtful, Damien weighed his answer before he responded. “I thought that for the longest time. There’s a type of amnesia where the brain is trying to repress a trauma.” He paused, recalling that time in his life where he became obsessed with the idea that something truly horrible must have happened to him and that he’d blocked it all out as a defense mechanism. “But, even if something really bad did happen, there’s got to be parts of my life then that are worth remembering. It couldn’t all be bad.”

Jane blinked slowly, appearing to consider his words. “That’s easy for you to say. You can’t remember it if something bad did happen.”

Damien propped himself up on his elbow. “There’s been three years since then. It hasn’t been exactly a picnic this whole time, you know.”

“Sorry.” Jane ducked her head and rested her cheek against his chest. Damien relaxed against the bed once more, and Jane cuddled closer to him.

“But even the bad memories are worth keeping. If I forgot them all, I wouldn’t remember getting the crap beat out of me because of my bad attitude, and I’d go back to being a git all the time. Everything that happens, happens for a reason.”

She looked at him again, her expression dubious.

“I would hate to forget this,” Damien continued, “being here with you.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “I’d rather make memories than forget them.”

Jane smiled softly. “Is that what we were doing tonight? Making a memory?”

“Among other things.” Damien smirked naughtily at her. She leaned forward quickly, her eyes determined. Soon his mouth was far too occupied to smirk.

After she’d kissed him thoroughly, she planted one last chaste kiss on his swollen lips and rested her head on his chest. “Goodnight,” she yawned.

Damien fought to regain his breath, feeling somewhat like he’d just run a marathon, been wrestled to the ground and pinned, and then kissed into submission. It was exhilarating.

Though he was tired, he couldn’t fall asleep. The shock of Jane’s unexpected arrival had worn off, but he was still too keyed up to keep his eyes closed. Long after Jane had fallen asleep, Damien remained awake, savoring the feel of her even, warm breaths against his chest, of her soft skin pressed against his. He ran his fingers through her still-damp hair and watched her sleep. She was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.

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Author's Notes: Comments and reviews are most welcome. If you like what you just read, be sure to check out my yahoo group, the link to which you can find in my user profile. I post updates and chapter cookies there.