Damien (Slater Brothers #5)(42)

“Bronagh, nothin’—”

“Don’t even,” she cut me off then lowered her voice. “You said Damien kissed you yesterday.”

I flushed at the memory.

“He did.”

“What was it like?”

I thought about that for a minute, and then I sighed. “Toe-curlin’.”

Bronagh squealed. “Those are the best types of kisses.”

“It was so unexpected. I didn’t realise what was happenin’, then all of a sudden, his lips and hands were on me, and I was kissin’ ’im like a woman starved.”

“That’s so hot.”

I licked my lips. “If he hadn’t broken the kiss, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

“Holy shite.”

She came over to the table, carrying our cups of tea. I played with the handle of mine when she placed it in front of me, before sitting across from me. I couldn’t look at her while we talked about this because I was too embarrassed. Usually, our conversations about sex or kissing were primarily when Bronagh spoke and I listened.

“I lose all rational thought when he is close to me,” I admitted. “It’s like me mind just forgets the drama between us.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

I grunted. “Even more confused.”

“You like ’im.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I admitted on a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean anythin’ because I can’t let go of the past.”

Bronagh said nothing.

“It gets worse,” I said.

“How?”

“He said ... he said he’d wait for me to decide whether I wanna be with ’im.”

“Oh, Lana.”

I felt my eyes well up.

“I know,” I said, rubbing my eyes to stop any silly tears from falling. “I want to believe ’im, and I want to believe things would be different than when we were kids, but I’m just too scared. And I know you all probably think it’s high time I get over it, and I agree, but it’s like me heart just ... can’t.”

I looked up at my friend when she reached over, covered my hands with hers, and gave them a squeeze. My eyes stung, and when a few droplets splashed onto my cheeks, I quickly wiped them away. I willed no more to fall because I knew if either of the twins saw that I was crying, I wouldn’t be able to leave the house without telling them why.

“I think you should try,” Bronagh said softly.

“Try what?” I snivelled.

“I think you should try to see what happens between you and Damien.”

I looked at her, my eyes wide.

“You’ll regret it forever if you don’t. I know you will.”

I knew I would, too.

“I’ve always been so against the possibility, but hearin’ ’im say he is interested changes things.”

Bronagh nodded in agreement.

“Do you think he’d go slow?” I questioned. “With me ma bein’ sick, and me da bein’ a lyin’ bastard, I can’t take a full-on relationship right now. I’m not emotionally stable enough for that.”

“Babe, Damien will move at a snail’s pace if it means he has a chance with you.”

A ghost of a smile graced my lips.

“I’ll ... I’ll talk to ’im about it.”

Bronagh squealed and clapped her hands together merrily like a performing seal, and it made me laugh. Both of our gazes shot to the door when it suddenly opened and in walked Damien with a babbling Georgie in his arms. I sat up straight and quickly rubbed my cheeks to make sure there were no remaining tears.

“This little beauty just got home, and I think she is hungry.”

Bronagh got up and moved over to the fridge where she removed a tupperware box, then took off the lid and put it in the microwave.

“I blended this up for ’er this mornin’. Will you put ’er in ’er high chair?”

“You got it.”

Damien moved over towards the back door where Georgie’s high chair was located, and the longer I stared at him, fixing her into the chair and tightening the straps around her, the more nervous I became about speaking to him.

“Dame.”

He glanced at me, his grey eyes looking almost silver in the light. His black eye made my stomach tighten, and I didn't know why because it was only a bruise. There was something wrong with me for finding him ruggedly sexy because of it.

“Hmm?”

“Can we talk ... later?”

He stilled. “Talk?”

I nodded. “Later.”

He blinked a couple of times, then he slowly bobbed his head.

“Thanks,” I said, exhaling a breath.

Damien cleared his throat, then he turned to Bronagh, and for some reason, I knew whatever he was about to say was to take away the apprehension that had suddenly filled the room.

“Dominic said you were making pizza for dinner.”

Bronagh glanced at him as she removed Georgie’s dinner from the microwave and tasted it. “I am.”

He glanced around, before focusing back on her.

“I don’t smell anythin’.”

I snapped my attention to Bronagh’s, and I watched as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.