Faking it with Damian Black by Louise Jane ( Millic and Damian )

Chapter 71

-MILLIE-

Sitting by the picnic blanket, I watched Damian dig up a hole in the sand, toss small firewood in, and, using a fire starter, make a bonfire in just under two minutes. Red-orange light illuminated his face as he added more wood to the pit. Soon enough, the warmth from the fire offset the cool air coming from the bay.

He smiled at me. He was so beautiful under the light of the fire and the star-filled sky. Damian… my G o d, my heart was melting under his stare as he stood, brushed off the sand from his jeans and went to sit beside me on the blanket.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

‘I’d be if you wrap your arms around me,’ I wanted to say, but instead, I bit my lip and hummed a

yes.

From the picnic basket, he pulled out a wooden board and food storage after food storage. While he prepared the charcuterie board overflowing with meat, cheese, nuts, veggies, fruits, and c r a c k e r s, I wondered if I ever really knew Damian. And when he lifted a bottle of red wine and two flute glasses from the basket, I was a hundred percent sure that this person was different from the guy I made a deal for a fake relationship with.

The detail he put into this date was the kind that we would arrange at Effortless Events for an intimate proposal. From the tent to the weather, the lighting, and the food… who was this man?

“Millicent?” I blinked back to reality. Holding the glass of wine for me, worry filled Damian’s emerald eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I reached for the glass, taking a huge gulp. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Unconvinced, his brows knitted together. “I forgot to ask if you already had dinner. Try this.” Stabbing a capicola with a fork, he offered it to me. “I got that from the local store in town this morning.”

Chewing down on the meat, I mulled over how Damian was being so sweet and romantic all over again. When we were under the pretense of our fake relationship, it was easier, to disregard all the romantic efforts he’d made. But now, it felt like he found a map of my heart. He knew what would make it beat for him and make it sing out his name louder with each gesture.

“It’s good,” I said, taking the fork from him. If he’d keep feeding me like a baby, I don’t think my heart could take it. Considering how much effort Damian put into this date, it’s already melting inside my chest.

Sitting comfortably beside me, he told me where he got the fruits, vegetables, and cheese. The wine

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was from Summerfield Acre’s winery, courtesy of Dad and he shared bits of the conversation he had with him.

“Thank you, Damian,” I murmured when I was stuffed. The wine helped ease the food down my

but my system, but

stomach would burst from eating more than I could take in a meal.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, clearing the board and placing the leftovers back in their containers. “Please tell me you still have some room for marshmallows.”

I gaped at him. Toasted marshmallows were my favorites. “You did not bring marshmallows.”

“Of course I did,” he beamed at me. He set aside the leftovers in the basket and showed me a pack of marshmallows and a handful of wooden skewers.

“Damian!” I gasped, shoving his shoulders. “I love toasted marshmallows!”

“I know…” his smile was victorious as he opened the pack, skewered the sweet, soft treats, and placed them on the fire one by one. “This one, I got a hint from Candice.”

‘He even asked Candice?’

Like a kid watching the marshmallows cooking in the fire, I hugged my knees and rested my cheek on them, pinning Damian with a sideways glance. “This date is perfect, Damian. Thank you.”

Focus set in the distance, and a small smile lingered on his lips. “Thank you for not slamming the door in my face for my r d i n e s s.” Facing me, I drowned in the depths of his eyes. “Thank giving me a chance…. to make up for this date.”

you for

How could I forget his assertiveness? It’s one of his qualities that set him a mile away from Hunter, even for a fake boyfriend. He understands me without needing an explanation. Because of my past, he knew I’d struggle with trusting him again, even with this simple date.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head, and responded to his statement honestly. “A date is okay, but a relationship with you is another thing. That’s something I don’t know how to deal with… yet.”

A lot has happened between us, but one thing hasn’t changed. It’s the comfort in knowing that I can be honest with him. He showed no negative sentiments as if he were even expecting my reply.

Reaching for a stick of toasted marshmallows, he blew on it, cooling it down, and offered it to me. Grabbing another skewer, he said. “I don’t expect you to jump in my arms with one date, Millicent. That’s not who you are.”

I plucked the marshmallow from the skewer. It was still warm. I lifted it up to my mouth, moaning as the gooey, warm goodness exploded on my palate,

Chuckling, Damian offered me another one. “Is this you trying to win me over with toasted marshmallows? Coz if you are,” I accepted what was offered. “It’s definitely working.”

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I could feel his eyes watching me as I ate the marshmallows like a child would.

“Definitely not with marshmallows,” Damian mumbled.

That made me smile. Extending my hand to him, I offered him the other half of the marshmallow. He opened his mouth and kept his eyes on me as he licked it from my fingers. His tongue was warm as it drifted on my skin.

Burned by the surge of electricity that ignited from his touch, I pulled my hand. But Damian’s hand snapped and gripped my wrist and licked every goodness from my fingers. My mouth hung open, a throbbing pulse in my core. His eyelids became heavy at the same time mine did.

My mouth went dry as I watched Damian’s throat bob up and down. He leaned closer, letting go of my hand and cupping my face, swiping his thumb over my lips. Closing my eyes, my pulse drummed faster as I waited for his lips to touch mine, but it never came.

I nearly whined in protest when he pulled away. When I opened my eyes, he was licking his thumb.

“You got a smear on your lips,” he said, looking away to hide his smirk.

Annoyed, I grabbed another stick from the fire and focused on blowing on the marshmallow, channeling all my anger into it.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Perfect,” I huffed.

“You know, if you want something, you just have to ask for it.” I could hear the laughter in his voice.

Glaring at the fire, I murmured, “I’m good.”

“Alright,” he replied. From that moment, my mood plummeted. I zoned out in our conversation, answering his questions with one or two-word sentences. Once we finished all the toasted marshmallows, Damian stood and said. “It’s late. You’re probably tired. We should get some rest.”

I looked at him and back at the tent behind us, wide-eyed.

What the hell was wrong with me? I wanted him to kiss me, and when he didn’t, I got mad at him for not kissing me. Now that he mentioned sleeping, I’m nervous about being inside the tent with him.

“I’m not sleeping with you, Damian,” I said pointedly, standing up from the blanket.

“What?” he looked puzzled until realization dawned on him. “I wasn’t even thinking about that. I got a hammock set up behind the tent.”

My cheeks were suddenly warm, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because of the bonfire. Now I am mad

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at him again for not saying that the first time. How would I know if he set up a hammock under that freaking tree?!

Fuming, I said. “Good. Good night then,” then I stomped towards the tent. Damian reached for my hand before I could walk away.

“What’s wrong?” Genuine worry blanketed his face. I don’t think he’s faking this at all. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Everything is fine, and you didn’t do anything wrong.” I sn at c h e d my hand from his hold. He let go, and I hated that he let go. Why was he acting this way?

Damian Black takes whatever he wants without hesitation, and this version of him was confusing me. He wanted to kiss me-it’s written all over his face. Or am I reading his signals wrong? And now, he let go

of my hand without much of a fight?

What’s happening? I pinched my eyes shut, gathering my thoughts.

‘Relax Millicent. Count to ten.’

I’m overthinking things, and my mind running over a hundred miles per hour would do me no good. Deciding to just sleep on it, I turned my back on him and headed to the tent.

“Millicent.”

“What?” I hissed, the sand rumbling beneath my sneakers as I faced him.

“If you wanted me to kiss you, you just had to ask.” He looked as though he was in great pain. His hands were balled on the side, and uncertainty was written on neon letters over his forehead. “I’m not going to force you into doing anything again.” Shaking his head, he shoved his balled hands in his pocket and stared at the tips of his toes. “I want to make this right.”

The truth was unraveling in front of me. I wasn’t the only one affected by our month-long separation. This wasn’t my Damian. This wasn’t the man I fell in love with. What happened to him in those four weeks? Why did he have to leave me? And why won’t he trust me with the truth?

All these questions were messing with my head. They were feeding firewood into the bonfire of annoyance burning inside me. I hated the push-and-pull, this stupi d tango we were doing when it was crystal clear that we still wanted each other.

‘F u c k whatever f u c k this was. I want Damian, and here he was, standing before me, lost and broken… like me.’

Fueled by annoyance, I stomped to where he stood and fisted his shirt. Standing on the tips of my toes, I met his lips midway and kissed him full on the mouth.

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