I have. I have touched his hair. I love touching his hair. I don't know if Damon knows that he always groans whenever I play with his hair, but I love the sound he makes. If I could hear it every day, it would make me so happy.
"Clarissa." He whispers. "Answer me."
I can't help myself as I slowly reach up and run my hand through his already-styled hair. His breath hitches, and I wait; I wait to hear the groan I love so much.
When I do hear it, my heart rate increases.
"See," I whisper. "His hair is soft."
His eyes flash dangerously when my words finally sunk in.
He gently grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away, but he doesn't let go of it.
"What are you saying?" He asks cautiously before taking a step towards me.
"What do you think I'm saying?" I answer his question with one
