**A/N – Last chapter – man, I slapped them up fast. I wrote it all in one sitting honestly and have been fiddling with them ever since. I probably should have dragged it out, but I have no patience. If people are reading it, I might as well post them, right? ;-) Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Your reviews have been so lovely - thank you all for the comments. It is such a treat to get them. So, drop me a line to let me know what you think – and HAPPY THURSDAY! May TVD be awesome as it ever is tonight.**
My hands are shaking so badly that I can't even imagine being able to read this entry later. And I'll want to, I know I will. Because I'll never want to forget this moment, not as long as I live.
He was waiting for me tonight. My room was dark when I came in from the bathroom, but the curtains were open to let the moonlight in. Everything was washed in this pretty, pale glow. And he was there, standing in front of my window, a black silhouette with hands fisted at his sides.
I felt rooted into the ground. I just froze. He came to me and I took a breath, smelling the crisp promise of snow. And Damon. That one breath brought me back to every time he'd ever looked at me, brushed past me, done that thing with his eyes that makes me feel dirty and beautiful at the same time.
God, that boy does things to me that shouldn't be possible. They just shouldn't.
For awhile I wasn't sure if he was going to say anything. Then he took a long shuddering breath and the dam broke. He said so much so quickly that I could barely keep up.
He told me that he meant it all, every word, that he loved me, that he's always loved me, that it's eating him alive. He said he's whipped and pathetic and that he can't help it and doesn't even think he wants to. He said a thousand other things, but I couldn't hear them all because it was making my head spin and my heart fly. I curled my fingers into fists and hoped to God I wouldn't explode into a thousand pieces in the middle of my bedroom.
Then, he did this thing, this thing…I can't breathe even now and I'm just thinking about it. And it's nothing. He leaned in and I closed my eyes and then I felt the press of his forehead against mine. Oh, God, he made this soft, soft noise in his throat and it cut right through me. I have no idea how my knees held me up.
I twisted, trying to touch him, trying to kiss him, but somehow his mouth ended up near my ear. I curled my fingers in the front of his shirt and whimpered, but he took it all wrong. He took everything wrong.
He swore he'd do better. He swore he wouldn't do this to me again. And then with one firm kiss to my temple, he was gone.
How did this happen? How did I fall for Damon Salvatore?
Because I did. I know that now. I'm in love with him. And he's in love with me. And we're both so scared, we can't even stand in the same space without it feeling like the earth's going to crack open beneath our feet.
He's running and I'm chasing this time. I've almost caught him twice, once at the Grill where he left behind a bewildered bartender and a barely touched glass of scotch. Then, I found his car parked in town square. I sat on the hood and read Cosmo for four straight hours before finally being forced to take a bathroom break. He was gone when I came out.
I sent him a text calling a twelve year old girl.
He didn't reply.
And now I'm in employing the dirtiest trick I know. I used the key Stefan never asked me to return. Yeah, it was too low even for me. I didn't even make it to the stairs.
But I ran into him on my way out. He was on his way in. One look and he had me. I swear I could hear music rising. I felt a smile coming, one of those big ones that make your cheeks hurt. I was that happy.
Damon was not. I saw the dark look that flashed over him, but it didn't make any sense. I kept thinking, this is it. We can finally get this all out in the open. But he was having none of that.
Because he thought I was there to see Stefan.
He rushed past me, but I caught his sleeve, and his scowl before he could hide it.
I told him Stefan and I were over. Forever over. I'm not sure he believed me, so I said it again. Told him I was here for him. I asked him to look at me, to say something.
He looked like he wanted to. I thought he would, but he didn't.
Maybe we really can't fix any of this. It would take a damn miracle.
He came to my window like he always does, lurking just inside the frame, his face dark and unreadable. It made me think of every other time he's been here, heart on his sleeve and words spilling from his lips.
Tonight it was my turn to talk.
It was hard. I was so shaky, so damn scared to screw this up. Maybe scared too of what would happen if it does work. What the world would be like if we were together.
I could barely cross the room, but I did it.
I pulled him away from the window and he let me lead him like a little kid. He wouldn't look at me. I could see him trying to say something, but maybe he was scared too. And I couldn't think of where to begin, so for awhile it was quiet. Scary quiet.
Then I wrapped my arms around his middle and burrowed into him. I held on tight. I felt him go stiff and breathless at my embrace, felt the wonder in his hands as they landed gently on my shoulders.
I pressed my cheek to the hard plane of his stomach and whispered that he makes me crazy, that he's always, always made me crazy. I told him that none of this will be easy and that there are a thousand reasons why we shouldn't, but that I can't make myself care about any of them.
And then I told him I loved him. He trembled when I said that.
So I said it again, with my mouth at his throat. I felt him swallow hard.
And then I said it, one more time, just before I kissed him.
It started baby soft, one chaste kissed pressed to his mouth. Then he looked at me, touched my locket, just to be sure.
He said my name. One word. Ten thousand words couldn't have said more.
Then he hauled me in and kissed me like he's waited forever to do it. I felt him everywhere, like a fire, his hands in my hair, on my neck, sliding under the back of my shirt. I couldn't get enough of him. I could barely force myself to stop for air. His kiss is like a drug, and I don't want to live without it anymore.
We were undressed in record time. I don't know how it happened and I don't care. We were half-laughing, half-crying. He ripped my pajamas trying to get them off of me. I tripped over my own pants and he caught me as I tumbled back sideways across my bed. And then he hovered over me, shushing my laughter, though he was barely able to hold his own in.
Then he pushed my hair away from my forehead and told me we're a hot mess already. He was right. We are. We probably always will be. But there's something beautiful about us, I think.
When he settled his hips between my legs, it was more than sex. It was more than anything I know words for. The feel of him filling me up, groaning my name like a prayer against my lips…it changed everything for me. Everything.
He's sleeping now, hogging the covers and taking way more than his half of my bed. The boy is still crazy beautiful, even sprawled out with his mouth half open and his arm curled over my bare belly. He's so intense, even asleep.
I've never been loved with that kind of fierceness. But so far…oh, he's waking up…okay, he's grabbing my pen so-
I've been watching Elena with God and everybody for the last year, so now that I have her, naked and willing in her adorable girly bed, I'm not in a sharing mood. But don't worry, I promise to do all sorts of wicked things she can write about later. Much later.