Damien didn't ask if I wanted to go out. He just decided. It was barely past dinner when he walked into the living room, still shirtless from the shower, towel slung low on his hips. I was curled on the couch in one of his oversize T-shirt, scrolling on my phone, pretending I wasn't replying the way he had f****d me a few hours ago.
He dropped onto the cushion beside me, thigh pressed to mine. “Get dressed,” he said.
I didn't look up. “Why?”
“Movie,” he said excitedly.
I snorted. “You hate movies.”
“I hate crowds. I don't hate movies.” He plucked the phone from my hand, tossed it onto the table. “We are going alone.”
I finally met his eyes. “You rented the whole theater, didn't you?”
He didn't even try to deny it. Just smirked. “Get dressed. Something easy to take off.”
My stomach
