A fic by: Angel's blue eyed girl
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of the Vampire Diaries…though I'd love to own Damon for a night!!
Summary: This fic takes place after the epi 'The Turning Point' and during the episode Bloodlines. Damon does rescue Elena, they do go to Atlanta to see Bree, but he doesn't meet up with Lexi's ex. Instead Damon and Elena get drunk and….hmmm…I think you get the picture… This fic is already completed and I will post a chappie every day until the last part is posted.
A/N: Okay guys this is my first attempt at writing for this genre—I usually lurk in the BtVS—or Ats genre, but I love Damon's utter sarcastic-ness! lol! Kind of reminds me of Angelus! : I have several fics going in BtVS, but I had to take a little break and musie was hot to write a fic about Damon, so here I am—testing the waters. And can I say…seriously, Ian Somerhalder is wicked hot. :P No one but David Boreanaz has ever compelled the musie to write a fic like that!
Also, sorry to all you Paul Wesley fans, but this isn't a Stefan centric fic. Ian Somerhalder is just way hotter to me and IMO Elena and Damon are by far, the sexier couple…so I just had to make it happen in my mind…
Okay, enough of my chatter…here's my take on what could have happened on Damon & Elena's road-trip. :)
Elena awoke slowly. She was groggy and everything seemed to hurt thanks to the accident. "Mmm, oh God, my head…" She rubbed her temples softly. "What happened?" she murmured, blinking open her eyes.
Damon glanced over at her as she came to. "Ah, good morning Rip Van Winkle," he chimed in, almost cheerfully.
Hearing his voice was like a bucket of ice water tossed over her head and Elena jerked up, suddenly fully awake. "What—how? Where am I? And why am I with you?" she sputtered, staring at him with a look that was a perfect blend of panic and anger.
"Now is that any way to talk to the guy who saved your life?" he said, sending Elena a reproachful little smirk.
She scooted as far away from him as she could get, while still remaining in the car. "Where are we?" she asked looking out the window before shooting him a wary glance out of the corner of her eye.
Damon's crystal-blue/green eyes roamed her form as she huddled against the door of his Mustang. Her entire posture was so defensive it was as if she actually expected him to leap for her throat while he was cruising down the highway at seventy-five mph. "Georgia," he said finally.
Her eyes bugged and her mouth hung open in an O shape for a moment. He'd said that as casually as if he'd told her they were around the corner from her house. "You're kidding right?!"
He took his eyes off the road for a second to give her a wry grin. "Nope." She narrowed her eyes at him as if trying to decide whether to believe him and his smile broadened until he was positively beaming. "Oh c'mon," he chided, "Don't get in a snit. I figured you needed a break after the accident—funny how a near death experience sometimes makes you want to stop and I don't know—enjoy life a little more."
In a way he was right, but to hear Damon say something so insightful—without his usual snarky sarcasm was a bit stunning and for just a moment he seemed not so scary after all. He smiled again and Elena blinked at him owlishly, struck by the sheer beauty of his features, but just as quickly she was reminded of her situation and her brows drew down into a scowl. "This is kidnapping! I can't go to Georgia! I have class and—"
"I didn't kidnap you," Damon interrupted. "I recued you." She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand, stopping whatever she was about to say. "And don't get all worked up about going to Georgia because it's too late…" He shot her a quick grin, "you're already here, so you might as well go with it."
She sucked in a furious breath as his words struck home. "I might as well—" She stopped as she realized it was useless to argue with him. It would only amuse him and infuriate her. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms, "but I need to be home tomorrow," she insisted—barely resisting the urge to stomp her foot and pout. How in the hell had she ended up in another state and with Damon of all people?!
He looked surprised she'd given in so easily. "Done," he agreed before she changed her mind.
His easy compliance was a bit too accommodating for the Damon she'd come to know so Elena still eyed him warily. "Am I safe with you?"
He smirked at the suspicion dripping off her every syllable. "Yes."
"You won't try that mind control thing?"
He'd noticed her necklace was gone. Interesting—but beside the point right now. Forgoing his normal taunting sarcasm, he sighed, "No, Elena. I won't compel you to do anything you don't want to do…okay?"
Elena relaxed a bit, but was still cautious—this was Damon after all. "Can I trust you?"
He couldn't resist. "Hmm, now that's something I guess you'll have to find out, huh?"
"Great," she muttered. "Can that be any more vague and…kind of threatening too," she said, pulling her knees up and curling into a defensive little ball on the front seat. "But you expect me to trust you? I so don't think so!"
He did roll his eyes then. "Oh c'mon, I was kidding. A joke—get it?" She simply continued to eye him with distrust and he finally gave in. "You know Elena, your sense of humor is sadly lacking—must be all that time you spend with Stefan," he teased. "He can be such a buzz-kill."
"Don't," she said. "Don't talk about Stefan…"
His eyes lit up. "Uh-oh am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?" She simply glared at him, so he shrugged and let the subject drop. "Whatever, but I was serious when I said I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax…you know…enjoy a break from everything for a minute," he said, giving her a winning smile.
She pondered his words—it was tempting, especially after last night. Stefan's lies niggled at her and she shut her eyes. If she followed Damon's advice she could leave that all behind—at least for the day. Now that was more than tempting—it sounded like heaven actually. She nodded at him. "Okay," she said, "This will be kind of like a trip to Vegas right? What happens in Georgia stays in Georgia."
His jaw hung for just a moment before he snapped it closed. "Always full of surprises, you do know that's one of the things I like about you, right?" he said, winking at her "Not to mention that sounded kind of kinky. Just what do you plan on doing to me here? Should I be worried about my virtue?"
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "What virtue?"
He tilted his head to the side. "Ouch, but too true," he said with a husky laugh and gunned the accelerator on the Mustang, causing the big engine to spring to life and shoot their speed up to a nail-biting ninety five mph.
Elena gripped the dash so tightly her knuckles were white. "Damon, can you slow down—one near death accident in twenty-four hours is about all I can take…"
"But that was you driving—this is me, and I think we can both agree I've been driving longer than you."
"Still…can you please slow down," she said, very close to pleading.
He noticed her face was turning chalky white with fear. "Spoil-sport," he quipped, but eased off the accelerator, slowing them down to a still fast, but manageable eighty mph.
"Thank you," Elena breathed, letting go of the dash-board and easing back in her seat.
He nodded without comment and they drove in silence for several miles until Elena got tired and utterly bored at looking at the endless groves of trees, grass and cows—lots of cows. She turned her head and covertly checked Damon out. He really was good looking, she thought. It was bizarre that he could he be so pretty, yet so wicked at the same time? She let out a sigh. It was a riddle, but then again, that was Damon—a puzzle within a riddle. She shook off her ridiculous meandering. So he was hot—big deal. She'd always recognized that, but his sheer enjoyment for death and violence was terrifying. So why was she seeing him in a different light now? Was it because he'd actually done something nice for her and saved her life? Suddenly something from the accident flashed in her mind, and she gasped aloud and bolted upright. "There was a man…I think…I think I hit him," she said worriedly.
He shook his head. "No, you didn't. It wasn't a man. It was a vampire and he was going to kill you. I ran him off."
She remembered him saying that earlier, but this was the first time she was hearing the details and it stunned her that Damon would even care whether she became a snack for another vampire. She stared at him with something akin to shock. "You—why?" she asked. "Why would you save me?"
He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I save you?" he answered, without answering at all.
"Because you don't like me!" she shot back.
He made a *tsking* sound. "Now you're just making stuff up. When have I ever said that?" he queried. He shrugged when she looked at him doubtfully. "What? I've never said I don't like you, Elena. I just think you're all wrong for my broody brother is all."
"Yeah, and the only reason you haven't killed me is because I look like her…"she snapped, an edgy tang of bitterness lacing her voice.
That caused him to pause. He studied her. She looked furious and hurt, and for a brief second he wondered if she knew about her resemblance to Katherine, but no, not even Stefan was that stupid. "Like who?" Damon asked cautiously—testing the waters.
She turned in her seat and drilled him with her dark eyed gaze. "You know who I'm talking about, Damon—like Katherine," she spat. "I look like Katherine—that's the reason you bug me and that's the reason Stefan…" She stopped and a small growl escaped her. "Why do I look like her?" she asked, confusion clouding her face.
He didn't say anything for a moment—his mind reeling from the fact that she knew. Guess he was wrong—Stefan was that stupid. Damon quickly went through a hundred different possibilities of how she found out, but none made any sense. Truth is Stefan would never tell her, so how the hell did she know of her resemblance to Katherine? Finally he settled on just asking her. "O-kay, how do you know that? And what the hell did Stefan tell you?"
"Stefan didn't tell me anything and you didn't answer my question. Why do I look like her?"
"How do you know you do look like her?" he asked instead of answering.
Elena blew out a frustrated breath. "Do you always answer a question with another question?"
"Do you?" he responded, grinning at her unrepentantly.
Elena rolled her eyes and slowly counted to ten before replying. "No, I usually answer a question…now why—?"
"Then what did Stefan tell you?" he asked before she could finish her question.
"Has anyone ever told you you're annoying?"
"A few," he replied with a careless shrug, "but that doesn't answer my question now does it?" he said, his smile was devilish and a bit too sexy for Elena's liking. "How do you know you look like her, Elena? I can't believe Stefan would tell you…so what happened?"
She gave a long drawn out sigh. Sometimes talking to Damon was like trying to catch a greased pig—impossibly frustrating. "I told you, Stefan didn't say anything. I—" She paused and licked her lips. "I found a picture of her," she admitted.
Now that made sense, and he nodded as understanding dawned on him. "The one from Stefan's bedroom."
He'd said it as a statement, rather than a question, but Elena answered just the same. She looked away. "Yeah," she replied very softly, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she remembered her and Stefan making love…she shook off the thought, it was too painful. "It was from 1864. The time you and Stefan were turned…I look just like her." She turned to Damon, her eyes wide—pleading. "How is that possible?"
He looked away from her eyes, they were too soft—too needy and a part of him wanted to comfort her. "And…?" he asked instead.
She shook her head as righteous anger coursed through her again. "And…what?" Her brows drew down into a scowl and she crossed her arms. "I left. He lied to me. I won't be his substitute for Katherine!"
The pieces fell into place in an instant and jealousy tore through Damon as he realized why Elena looked so hurt. She and Stefan had obviously taken their relationship to the next step and in the after-glow of post coital bliss Elena had found Katherine's picture. He wanted to growl and curse—maybe hit something too, but he also wanted to crow at Stefan's utter stupidity for leaving that picture lying around where she could find it. He'd have to thank him for that later. He gave her a wry little grin. "Well now, isn't this an interesting turn of events. Stefan is the jerk and I'm the big hero type rescuing the damsel in distress!"
Elena's eyes widened, before she snorted and muttered, "Yeah right, because that's so you…"
"Well, I did—rescue you, that is," he told her, obviously pleased with himself.
"Yeah you did, which reminds me…you still haven't told me why you did that."
He paused and seemed to really think about what he was about to say. Finally he sighed and gave a negligent shrug that belied the thought he'd given to his response. "Because I don't want you dead, Elena," he admitted. "If I did—you already would be, now doesn't that count for something?"
"Doesn't that—huh? What are you talking about?" She stared at him in open mouthed shock. Had he just admitted to having feelings for her? Yet in the same sentence he'd interjected a thinly veiled threat. What did that mean? Elena wanted to scream. Damon was beyond confusing sometimes. "With you?" she said, looking at him intently. "I'm never really sure," she admitted softly and turned away from him.
"I can live with that," he said just as quietly and they drove on, barreling down the highway in silence.
A little while later they pulled up in front of a bar and Elena turned to him in surprise as he turned the car off and pocketed the keys. "You've got to be kidding! We drove all this way just so you could take me to a bar?!"
He chuckled as he got out of the car. "No. I was already on my way here when I saw you needed my help," he said as he opened her door for her. He leaned into the car, crowding her. "And this isn't just any bar…the bartender is a witch," he whispered into her ear.
His lips were too close, and Elena shivered as his breath made the delicate shell of her ear tingle, raising tiny hairs all along her arms and the back of her neck. She yanked her head back, needing to put some distance between them.
He held his hand out to help her from the car, but Elena was having a crisis of desire so strong it was scaring her and she just stared at him, dumbfounded. "Well?" he said, raising a brow, "are you getting out or not?"
She'd look even sillier than she felt if she stayed in the car, so Elena accepted his hand. It was cool to the touch, but strong and as his fingers entwined with hers, she shivered again and let him pull her out of the car. They stood there for a brief moment and he stared down at her, his mesmerizing eyes so intense it made her belly clench.
He tilted his head to the side as neither of them moved. "Are you okay?" he asked. They were so close, their bodies' were barely an inch apart and the air seemed to crackle with electricity.
With a start she realized they were practically cuddling. "I—um—yeah, thanks," Elena said, trying to play it off until her gaze got snared on his lips. They were beautiful—lush and moist—tasty looking. She wanted to nibble on them. With a gasp she stepped away from him. Where the hell had that come from? Shaking her head, as if to clear it of the sudden bout of insanity that had stricken her, Elena turned to go inside, but not before she saw him smile in an all too knowing way. Embarrassment warred with furious anger and she wanted to kick herself—or better yet, she wanted to kick him as she realized he knew—he totally knew she'd wanted him for that second.
"Oh God," she muttered, and hurried past him, heading for the entrance of the bar like the very hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.
Damon watched her go, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He'd sensed her attraction—it would have been impossible not to. She practically drooled and licked her lips looking at him. "Well, well, well…this might be an interesting road trip after all," he said to himself as he sauntered after her.
A few hours later:
Elena slammed her shot glass down on the bar; laughing with delight as she noticed Damon hadn't finished yet. "I won!" she crowed pointing at him. "Now you have to drink again!"
He rolled his eyes, but picked up the full glass. "You do know this doesn't affect me quite as heavily as it does you…right?" He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "I think it's the borrowed blood and all…"
She missed what he said, but his lips by her ear made her quiver with feelings she didn't understand and Elena giggled as her senses went wild. She shoved his shoulder playfully. "Stop—that makes me tingle! Now drink!" she demanded.
His brow shot up. "Tingle? Really?" She nodded and his eyes sparkled as he grabbed her hand. "Does this make you…tingle?" he asked as he licked her hand. She gasped, and tried to pull her hand away, but he held it tight as he sprinkled some salt on the spot he licked. "Okay, I'm ready." He held onto her wrist for a moment more before licking the salt off her hand. Then he picked up the lime wedge in front of him and bit into it before he grabbed his drink and shot the booze down. He made an *aahh* sound, enjoying the fire in his belly before slamming the glass down like she had when he was finished.
Shudders raced along every nerve ending and Elena couldn't help but gape, stricken by his utter hotness. He was ridiculously sexy and a dull ache began to throb between her legs as she stared. "Oh God," she muttered, turning away from him as she waved the bartender and Damon's ex-girlfriend; Bree over to them. "Can we have three more?" she asked. Elena leaned over the bar and suddenly giggled. "Damon lost, so he gets two…I'm going to get him drunk…" she whispered conspiratorially, but it was quite obvious Elena was the one who was shnockered.
Bree glanced at Damon for approval. He shrugged, but nodded for her to do as Elena asked. The dark haired bartender rolled her eyes. "Just make sure you get her outta here if any cops show up," she demanded and went to get them their shots of tequila.
Elena swirled the tiny remnants of alcohol in her shot glass. "Why do they call it 'ta-kill-ya'?" she asked. "I think it feels pretty damned pleasant if you ask me," she said, and the grin she flashed him was far sweeter than any she'd ever aimed his way.
Damon blinked for a moment, 'she really is stunning,' he thought, 'but that wasn't surprising she was a dead ringer for Katherine, but it was more—it was something about her—Elena, that intrigued him.' He pushed off his musings; he must be getting drunk after all to be waxing poetic like that! He chuckled. "Remember you said that in the morning," he said mysteriously.
Bree reappeared and delivered their shots and Damon handed her a twenty dollar bill.
Elena pushed his shots at him. "Okay," she said, handing him one. "You first and then we go again…"
He took his 'losing' shot from her. "Hold out your hand," he said. This time Elena knew what he was going to do, and even as her belly quivered, she held her hand out. Damon swirled his tongue along the soft pad of flesh by her thumb and Elena gasped in pleasure. He grinned, sprinkled the salt on the wet spot before going through the ritual of salt, lime—shot. He set the glass down. "Satisfied?" he smirked, before picking up the other one.
Elena was feeling brash—maybe it was the liquid courage under her belt, but her normal inhibitions weren't rising up to stop her as she bumped him with her hip and grinned at him. "Not yet," she said teasingly. "Maybe you can take care of that for me later," she quipped. Letting the entendre hang there as she clinked their glasses together in a toasting fashion. Damon's mouth dropped, but Elena was feeling no pain and wanted it to continue. "C'mon—let's go," she said, holding up her glass.
Her words floored him. He'd never seen Elena so loosened up. She was drunk and beyond the point of caring what she did or said—he might as well go along for the ride. "I'm always ready," he answered. His smile was wicked and spoke of untold delights to be had there.
Elena paused, her thoughts going back to the conversation earlier with Bree. The woman's comment about 'how good in the sack he was' kept niggling at her now—like an itch she couldn't quite scratch and she blinked at him drunkenly while she studied him. "You really are pretty—you know that?" she suddenly blurted out.
He made a face. "I'm not pretty—I'm sexy—sinfully hot, but not pretty!"
She giggled at his offended look and brought her hand up to touch the side of his face. "No you are," she insisted. "So-so pretty. You're eyes—they're like…" She shrugged, waving her hand and spilling half her drink without realizing it. "I don't know…crystals, or something, and your lips look…nummy. Really-really…nummilicious actually…" she said, too buzzed to stop her tongue from running away with her and saying what was on her mind.
Damon leaned back and looked at her with a predator's gleam in his eye. "Really?" he asked, a broad grin suffusing his handsome face. "Nummilicious huh?" He stood up suddenly and crowded Elena against the bar. He lowered his head as he leaned over her and seemed to inhale the flesh along her neck and face. "Wanna taste them?" he asked, leaning even closer—their lips were an inch apart and Damon could hear her pulse accelerate. "C'mon Elena—don't you want to see if they're as nummy as they look?" he asked softly.
Elena was caught. His eyes didn't dilate and change. He wasn't playing that mind thing on her—but she felt like a mouse being hypnotized by a snake just the same. She stared into his eyes and the longing to press her lips to his was nearly overwhelming, but she pulled back abruptly, almost knocking over the stool behind her. "Whoa! Wasn't it your turn to drink?" she asked, setting her glass down and fanning herself almost frantically. "Is it hot in here, or what?" she asked, glancing around the bar and avoiding the all-too-knowing look in Damon's eyes. "Air conditioning—ever heard of it?" she said to no one in particular as she lifted her heavy hair off her neck, giving Damon an enticing view of her bare neck, back and shoulders. "It's a new invention that's all the rave now. Really, you should try it!" she said, blowing her hair out of her face. She glanced at Damon, "I have to go to the bathroom," she said suddenly and jumped off her barstool and hurried towards the ladies room.
Damon watched her hurry away wondering if she was going to puke. "Lightweight," he muttered, shooting down his drink before ordering another.
Damon was on his fourth shot without Elena when he realized she'd been gone a pretty long time. He grabbed his drink and walked back towards the restrooms. He paused in the doorway, about to head to the right where the bathrooms were when he heard her laughter off to his left. He frowned and headed towards the back of the bar instead. He entered the pool room and stopped short when he spied her by the pool tables watching a guy giving tattoos.
"So you abandoned me for a tattoo?" he asked sarcastically as he sauntered over to her.
Her eyes lit up when she saw him and she rushed over and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the guy doing the tattooos. "He's going to give me a tattoo--for free! Isn't that cool?"
Damon rolled his eyes. "Awesome," he said in a mocking tone.
"Will you give him one too?" Elena asked the bald headed tattooed kid doing the tattoos.
The guy glanced over at Damon. His eyes traveled over the dark haired vampire and he shrugged. "Sure, but he has to pay," he said, turning back to his work.
Damon hadn't had any intention of getting a tottoo until the guy had dismissed him so casually--now he was determined that the little prick would give him one and with no charge. He tapped the skinheaded youngster on the shoulder and the guy turned to look at him. Damon grabbed his face in his hands. "I don't have to pay--you want to do this for me because I'm so special--right?' he said, his eyes dilating and contracting.
The tattoo artist nodded. "Yeah, you're special so you get it for free."
Damon smirked and let go of his face. "That's more like it."
Elena giggled. "You cheated." She started flipping through the books of different patterns and designs the guy had lying about. "So what should we get?"
Damon sighed. He really wasn't drunk enough for this yet so he ordered a bottle and then grabbed the book from her hands as he waited for his booze to arrive. "Well, let's see what they got," he said.
Half a bottle of whiskey and a couple of tattos later they were back at the bar. Elena ordered another drink, but when it showed up Damon grabbed it out of her hand. "I think we're done here," he said, handing the drink back to Bree. He rubbed his shoulder where the tattoo he got, which was kind of fuzzy actually, was starting to itch. What the hell had he gotten again? He got to his feet, swaying slightly, but got himself under control quickly. "You, my sweet Elena, are wasted, and it's time to go," he told her, slurring his words just a bit.
Elena giggled, blinking heavy lidded, drunken eyes at him. "Like you're not?" she shot back.
He shrugged. "I'm buzzed, but not wasted--big difference."
"Whatever," Elena said crossing her arms, but then she giggled again, ruining her pout. "Okay, so I'm wasted, but you know what?"
"What?" he replied, digging in his pocket for cash.
"I had a good time," she said softly, eyes shining brightly.
Damon grinned. "Then my job here is done," he commented dryly and then tossed several bills on the bar.
Elena glanced down at the money he left and her eyes widened. "A hundred dollars!" she gasped. "WHY are you leaving her a hundred dollars?"
Damon nodded his head at Bree. "Thank you," he said to his ex, and took Elena by the shoulders and steered her towards the exit. "Because," he explained as he guided her out of the bar, "she deserves it for putting up with us all night," he said in a sickeningly sweet, but oh so snarky tone. The cool night air quickly had Damon sobering up--vampire constitution was both a curse and a blessing, depending on whether you wanted to stay drunk.
Elena knew the 'us' in that statement meant her and she frowned over her shoulder at him as he maneuvered out the door and into the cool night air. "Hey," she said, but stopped as she tripped over her own feet and stumbled. She giggled as she grabbed his arm and righted herself, but then his comment came back and she scowled again, shooting him a drunken, pouting glance. "I wasn't that bad…was I?"
He gave a dramatic eye roll as if saying 'please—of course you were.' "Define bad?" he said instead, pulling her towards his car.
Elena tried to push him away, but the movement caused her to stagger again. This time she tripped over a parking block in the lot and nearly went crashing face first onto the pavement. Only Damon's vampire reflexes saved her from meeting the asphalt—up close and personal. He sighed in frustration and half dragged, half carried her the rest of the distance to the mustang. Once he had her seated and buckled in, he rounded the car and hopped in the front seat. He was feeling a very pleasant buzz himself, but no where near the utter wasted-ness that was Elena.
As soon as he was in the car she started in on him again. "Seriously, Damon…was I really that bad?" she asked, her lower lip jutting in a pout he was beginning to find sickeningly adorable. "I had such a good time," she murmured. "I'd hate to think I insulted anyone or was stupid or something like that…"
She plucked at her jeans nervously and he relented. "Look, you weren't like 'get out the baseball bat and 86 her' bad, but you were loud," he told her. He sighed when her lip jutted more—he wanted to nibble on that lip. "And you wanted to kiss me," he reminded her drolly. His knuckles brushed her cheek. "So I think the real question is…do you think that's bad?"
Her throat closed and her heart accelerated as the pulse between her legs that had started earlier came roaring back to life, throbbing almost painfully. Flustered, she shifted uncomfortably to alleviate the sudden, searing need. Her eyes focused on his mouth and Elena licked her lips. "I still want to kiss you," she admitted breathlessly.
His body, which was already humming with booze, blazed with un-sated lust. "Elena," he warned, "If I were you…I'd stop while you're ahead…keep it up and I'm going to take you up on what you're offering."
Several rounds of tequila gave Elena a feeling of fearlessness and she laid her palm on his thigh and squeezed the hard muscle there. "What if I want you to?" she asked, her voice sounding husky and breathless, even to her own ears.
Damon bit back the groan that rose to his lips and had to adjust his pants to ease the sudden intense tightness there. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, letting her hand rest on his thigh. "You are sooo wasted—you'd probable say I 'compelled' you to do it tomorrow," he taunted, leaning just a bit closer to her.
"No, I know this isn't—that. It's—" She paused, "I don't know what, but it's real. I really want to kiss you," she whispered.
He closed the distance between them. "Then kiss me," he replied, tilting his head. His lips were less than as inch from hers—all she had to do was breathe and they'd be touching, but he wanted—needed her to make that move. "Remember, what happens in Georgia—stays in Georgia," he said, giving her the push she needed.
Okay that's the first chappie. Click that little blue button to let me know what you think and feed the musie beast…feed her and she feeds me. :)