Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 5

Aubrey was genuinely terrified.

Last time, even in a crowded, bustling hotel, Damon hadn’t hesitated to be cruel to her.

Now, it was past two in the morning, and the apartment corridor was eerily silent and deserted. She had no idea how he would torment her this time.

“I… I didn’t know you’d be here,” Aubrey’s voice trembled as she pressed herself against the door, ready to pound on it and scream for help.“I didn’t mean for you to see me.”

Damon’s expression darkened. He turned and walked to the trash can in the corner, stubbed out his cigarette, and tossed it in.

He pressed the elevator button. When the doors opened, he looked back at Aubrey, his voice flat.“Coming?”

Aubrey took a deep breath, her heart a knot of unease, and slowly walked over.

Was he really not going to snap again?

Was he waiting for her?

nside the elevator, Aubrey pressed herself against the back wall, still unable to relax, her gaze fixed

on Damon’s back.

He was tall, his short, clean–cut hair revealing a strong nape. Broad–shouldered with a narrow waist, he was solidly built, yet his clothes gave him a lean, lmost understated silhouette, radiating a cool, detached air.

His back, paradoxically, made her feel safe.

n the past, she’d loved to sneak up behind Damon while he cooked, pressing her face against his broad back.

t was safe and comforting.

He’d laugh and ask, “How am I supposed to cook with you clinging to me?”

she’d tease, “I’m not holding your hands. You cook, and I’ll just hug.”

Are you underestimating how soft you are?” he’d murmur, his voice rough.“You’re making my blood run hot. Now, I don’t want dinner. I want you.”

So bad,” she’d playfully scold.“Can’t even be serious while cooking.”

Damon wasn’t joking. He’d put down his spatula, lift her onto the kitchen island, and capture her attention, his desire clear in his eyes. Only after they vere both satisfied and sated would he carry her, weak–kneed, back to bed to rest, before returning to the kitchen to finish her meal.

Their past was sweet, but the memories now tasted only of bitterness,

Aubrey lowered her head, refusing to look at his back any longer.

The elevator doors opened, and without a single word exchanged, they walked out, one following the other.

Damon’s car was parked in the complex, and Aubrey walked past it.

Get in.”

The man’s voice came from behind her, and Aubrey paused, turning to look back at him.

le stood by the driver’s side, holding the door open, ready to get in. His face was indifferent, his gaze icy, and his voice held no warmth.

No, thank you,” Aubrey said “I’ll just grab a taxi home.” A shiver of apprehension ran through her.

Get in,” he said, his voice hardening.

No, really, I don’t need to

Don’t make me say it a third time.”

Aubrey froze, unmoving, staring at him, confused.

What did Damon mean?

Was he going to drive her home?

He didn’t say another word. He got into the car, closed the door, and buckled his seatbelt, but didn’t start the engine. He waited, silently.

Aubrey realized then that no matter how much Damon hated her, how much he despised her, he wasn’t the kind of man to leave a woman alone in the

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dead of night, past two AM, to take a taxi home by herself.

She hesitated no longer, approaching the back door of the car and tugging hard.

The door wouldn’t open.

She tugged again, but it still wouldn’t open.

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Suddenly, Damon leaned across the console, his arm extending to push open the passenger door. He then straightened up, all in one seamless motion. Staring at the now open passenger door, she hesitated for a few seconds. Then, without another thought, she climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across and buckling up.

In the confined space of the car, it was just the two of them. The car was filled with a pleasant lavender scent, one she loved and knew Damon did too. She felt rigid with unease, Damon’s presence enveloping her, her thoughts becoming a tangled mess. Even breathing became a struggle.

The car’s interior remained dark as Damon started the engine, pulling them out of the neighborhood.

He tapped open the navigation on the screen.“Where to?” he stated.

“Oh.” Aubrey reached over and typed her address into the screen.

Damon glanced at it, his brow furrowed.

For the rest of the drive, they exchanged no further words.

Time crawled, each passing minute, each second, agonizing for Aubrey.

She didn’t dare look at Damon, instead fixing her gaze on the nightscape outside the window. Her heart hammered, her body rigid, as if the air itself was thinning.

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