Princess

Chapter 31: Four

Ariadne

The next morning, I woke up earlier than Damon to realize that he hadn't moved a muscle. He held onto me with the same tightness and fervor as the night before, his body clung heavily to mine, unrelenting. I twisted myself in his arms to look at him. The comforter clung to his waist, that chest littered with tattoos on display.

Even asleep, Damon looked powerful and fierce. Like nothing could touch him.

I took my time tracing his face as he slept, moving from his eyebrows to his closed eyes to his cheek. By the time I got to his lips, he was awake, and probably was for a while but I was too mesmerized to notice. He placed a gentle kiss onto my fingers before his eyes opened. They glittered with an unguarded look that stayed this time. Every once in a while, I would catch him looking at me different before he quickly put up his shields. But now, his hardened gaze had retreated entirely, showing me the softer layers of Damon that he worked hard not to share with anyone.

"I could get used to this," he murmured into my neck.

"You are beautiful," I replied.

He pulled back in a mix of confusion and amusement, but I clung to him tightly, resting my head on his chest as our limbs tangled into one another again.

"But you are so much more than that, Damon. You are real. Human. Whole."

"You have always known how to use your words," he said quietly.

"I could have used them earlier if you gave me a chance," I whispered.

"Princess..."

"I'm so mad at you for staying away from me all those years."

He laughed at my genuine exasperation. "Don't worry, I don't plan to anymore."

Damon stayed true to his word, and I could barely walk so he generously carried me into the shower with him where he bent me over and did it all over again. Kind of missing the point of a warm shower but I really couldn't say that I minded. His strong hands massaged body wash into my aching body, the familiar scent of him lathering into my skin, and as I rinsed, he continued massaging my shoulders and back, leaving me much more relaxed. I was right–very good with his hands.

I stepped out first and found Damon's longest T-shirt, smiling when I saw the black lace panties I had gifted him tucked safely in the drawer. I placed the one I wore last night right next to it, hopefully a pleasant surprise for him the next time. Pictures of us dancing and kissing from newspapers and magazines were clipped and folded away neatly as well. My heart wrenched when I saw that he had kept the note I wrote him too. A part of me wanted to tear it up and burn it, but I thought better of it and closed the drawer shut right as he walked out.

"I like you in my clothes," he winked, clad only in a white towel that hung low around his waist. I groaned internally.

"I like you without clothes."

He laughed a loud, clear laugh and tugged me closer toward him, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. Droplets of water streamed down my neck from his sopping wet hair, but I couldn't care less.

I thought things would change in the morning.

That he would regret us once again.

That I would leave in despair, heartbroken all over.

But none of that was proving to be true. He still wanted me here. In his room, in his home, in his life.

"I want to show you something," he whispered into my skin and nudged me forward, opening a drawer next to the one I had rummaged through. It was empty, apart from some lavish lingerie sets–surprisingly my size–and I twisted my head to search for an explanation. Warm eyes and a gentle smile looked back at me. "It's for you. You don't have to use it now. Or tomorrow. Or ever. But this will always be yours."