Love Always, Damian (4 page)

No, it belonged to the girl on her knees, doing what I can no longer feel.

I’m done with this. It’s gonna take more than a couple beers and a blow job to vanquish the demons whispering in my ear.

I ease her head away from me, then gently help her to her feet.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What? Did you not like it?”

I pull up my pants, shoving my dick back inside. “Oh, I liked it. I just want more.” I lower my head and suckle on the skin at her neck. “I want to be inside you.”

Her breath falters at my words, and she shivers. “I’m not supposed to leave yet.”

“What if I don’t give you a choice?”

“What do you mean?”

I grasp her earlobe between my teeth. “Do you want to come with me?”

She shivers again and slowly nods her head. “Yes.”

“Good,” I murmur, tilting her face toward me so I can taste those lips. “Then let’s go.”

I pick her up. Reach to unlock the door and sweep her out of the bathroom to the confused looks of her sorority sisters and the guys who’ll have to wait a little longer to get theirs now. Outside the bathroom, I put Shayla down, and we make for the exit.

She laughs as she scurries beside me in the parking lot. “That was so cool!”

I open the passenger side door for her, and she falls in, still laughing. “Sure,” I say, unamused. I only care about tapping this girl and being done for the night.

On the way back to my place, she straightens her skirt and clears her throat. “My name is Shayla, by the way.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

She cocks her head to the side, her brows narrowed in confusion. “Have I already told you?”

“No, babe, the girl in the bathroom said your name.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” She sits in silence for a full thirty seconds before adding, “So, what’s yours?”

“Damian.”

“Damian. Da-me-on,” she sounds out with a slur. “Hmm, I’ve never met a Damian before.”

“Then you’ve been missing out,” I tell her, taking a quick peek at her cleavage again to convince myself not to do a U-turn to take her back to the Kappa house. She and a few more shots of tequila are my ticket to mental numbness tonight.

I park my car, noting how Dylan’s motorcycle is here. If I’m lucky, he’ll be in bed. If not, he’ll grab his cane and top hat to play his version of Jiminy Cricket. I’m not in the mood.

He knows how torn up I still am over Kate, and he doesn’t approve of how I handle the pain. He’s right, though. What I do doesn’t work because I’ll be in even more pain when I wake up.

But the temporary fix, the short time that I don’t hurt, is what I long for.

Quietly, I open the back door that leads into the kitchen. I don’t hear the TV on, so I figure I’m in the clear. I guide Shayla toward the living room, only to be caught by the stare of my nerdy roommate who desperately needs to get laid. Plus, he’s sober, even after spending the last five hours at The Underground.

The dude is playing video games with his damn headphones on.

His gaze shifts to my evening playmate. Taking the headphones off, he frowns.

“’Night, Dylan,” I say curtly before he has the chance to interject, and I pull Shayla behind me to my bedroom.

Now, I can concentrate on what I came here to do.

“Your roommate doesn’t look happy about—” Shayla starts.

“I don’t give a fuck. Come here.” The first thing I do is unhook the halter around her neck, letting it fall forward so I can see the tits that have taunted me all evening. They’re nice and round with dark nipples bubbling out from the centers.

I bend down and suck one into my mouth. Shayla gasps as I roll the other one between my thumb and forefinger. She wobbles a little, so I grab her ass to steady her before walking her backward to my bed.

I position myself between her legs and lower her onto the mattress. She lies back like a good girl, wetting her lips with her tongue. Even though her eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated, I’m in too deep to stop now. I realize this makes me an asshole, but that’s nothing new.

Kate was the one who made me want to be better. Without her, there’s no point.

I lift her skirt up over her hips, revealing black satin panties, which I slide down her legs, then toss on the floor.

I’m not concerned with foreplay. We had enough of that at The Underground.

I strip down and roll on a condom, ready to dive inside her. First, though, I flip her onto her stomach. Face to face sex is too personal. I don’t like to look into her eyes or have her look into mine. It’s easier this way.

Shayla obliges, and I fill my palms with ass cheeks before I position myself over her. I slip a finger inside her to make sure she’s ready. I’d like to tell myself that I care about her experience, but right now I don’t. This is for me.

She’s wet enough, so I thrust into her. Her muscles immediately tighten around me, and it feels so fucking good. Better than her mouth.

I hold off, pumping harder, faster. Drowning my mind in the tension of my own body. My orgasm climbs, and I can’t think about anything except how goddamn amazing it is.

This is it. The top of the hill where my pain melts away. Where Kate is absent, and the thought of Ellie showing up tomorrow is nonexistent—as if her call never even happened.

This, right here, is where I go numb.

I think Shayla is coming, but I barely hear her cries.

Harder. Faster.

Harder. Faster.

Harder. Faster.

And then I lose control, groaning out my relief and what’s left of all that’s haunting me—if only for a little while.

~*~

Two hours later, the booze is leaving my bloodstream, and the pain I spent all night trying to wash away is returning. Full force, louder and louder.

Sara, Sahara, Sharna, whatever her name is, is sound asleep beside me, the sheet only half covering her partially naked body. Usually I have no problem convincing myself to use women for my own satisfaction. But these nights, the ones where the memory of what Kate and I shared crushes me to the bone, I’m reminded of who I am and how I never deserved her.

I work to push it away because Kate’s gone and she’s not coming back. I’ll never love someone the way I loved her, so it doesn’t matter who’s in my bed.

If I’m being honest though, what I feel right now is my own personal brand of punishment. The hangover that leaves me in shambles and more pain than when I set out.

This moment I crave more than the sex.

I suck in a deep breath, raking both my hands through my hair, and stare at the ceiling. I’d woken up to the sound of Kate’s voice in my head, softly reiterating her third wish.

“I wanna see the sun rise with you every morning for the rest of my life,”
she’d said.

“That’s a whole lot of sunrises,”
I told her.
“Are you sure you can put up with me for that long?”

“That and longer. For always.”

The ghost of her face appears in front of me, her brown eyes so beautiful and tender, gazing at me like she’s actually here. The corner of her mouth pulls up into a grin. I reach out to touch her phantom cheek, and she closes her eyes to feel me.

“Always isn’t long enough,” I say into the darkness.

And then she fades away in the shadows of my memory.

Chapter 5

Ellie

My palms are sweating.

I grip the steering wheel tighter and take a deep breath. This is such a stupid idea. I mean, this is two whole months I’m talking about. Eight full weeks. Can I trust Damian for that amount of time?

After Liam and Nora—his mom—died in the car accident, Damian started to do some really stupid shit. His once straight-A report card filled up with D’s, and he took his anger out on windows, buildings, and cars. He began smoking to piss off his dad. Alcohol drowned his pain, and later, so did a steady stream of girls when I wasn’t available.

I never said anything, though. I used him as much as he used me, filling the unbearable emptiness inside with him night after night because it was easier than admitting Liam was gone. With Damian, I could pretend that a piece of him hadn’t left me. That somehow I could still touch him.

The difference now is that I’ve moved on with my life. I let go.

Sure, Damian’s relationship with Kate helped speed up that process for me, but at this point, Damian’s had plenty of time to mourn his losses and do the same. The fact that I’m pretty sure he was drinking last night when I called makes me wonder though.

God, if he’s still up to his old tricks, there’s no way I can go on this trip to Australia. No. Freaking. Way.

With my mind on the fritz, I pull up to the house. I check Damian’s text on my phone again to make sure I have the right address. The place seems safe enough. A one-story beige and brick ranch-style home with a two-car garage. It’s also a decent distance away from Iowa State University campus. Not bad digs for a college student. Then again, I don’t expect anything less from a member of the Lowell family.

It’s not Damian’s housing conditions that concern me, anyway. It’s what happens inside the walls that worries me.

My phone rings, and I half hope it’s Damian calling to cancel. Glancing at the number on the screen, the hope dissipates. I guess our morning meeting is still on.

“Hi Blake,” I answer.

“Hey babe. What’s the verdict?”

Three dates and a handful of kisses don’t exactly qualify for him to call me “babe,” but I don’t protest. We’ve been friends since I enrolled in the marine biology undergrad program at Florida State, and now we’re both working on master’s degrees. Blake is doing the Australia study too. And he wants me there.

“I don’t have one yet,” I say.

“Have you talked to him?” he asks.

“That’s what I’m about to do. I don’t know, though, Blake. What if he can’t handle it?”

“Then you’ll be on the first flight out of Cairns. It’s gonna be okay, Elizabeth.”

“You don’t know Damian,” I mutter.

“And neither do you anymore, right? Give the guy a chance. He might surprise you.”

I tap my nails on the steering wheel. Blake’s right. Damian deserves a shot to prove himself, and maybe I’m not giving him enough credit. Maybe he has changed.

Only one way to find out.

I sigh into the phone.

“I’ll call you later,” I tell him, peering up at the house again.

“He deserves to hear it from you,” he assures me. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“I hope so. Bye, Blake.”

I press end and take a deep, cleansing breath, keeping my gaze focused on the front door. Damian is expecting me, and I’m technically five minutes late. Even so, I sit in my car a little longer, debating with myself again.

What if…

In the back of my mind, I’m convinced I should turn around and go back to my parents’ house. Call my professor and see if there’s another study I can participate in closer to Tallahassee. Even Miami would work.

Yeah, that’s totally what I
should
do.

But…

Three words: Great. Barrier. Reef.

I sigh for the millionth time. Let’s just see how the morning goes.

~*~

I hike the strap of my purse over my shoulder and cross the yard to the front porch. After four years away, the prospect of seeing the man I fell in love with has my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I’d like to say it’s nerves over what we need to discuss—if it gets to that—but I’ve always been a terrible liar.

It’s more than that.

I should have checked my makeup and hair in the car before I got out. Now, my only option is to comb through it with my fingers and hope for the best. For the most part, I look the same as I did the last time we saw each other. Same long, blonde hair that I curl with the fattest curling iron available. Same arched eyebrows, thick lashes, and pale blue eyes. The biggest difference is in my hips, boobs, and thighs. They’ve filled out since then, and I find myself worrying what Damian will think.

Ridiculous, yet…ugh.

Here goes nothing.

I raise my hand and press the doorbell. Taking a step back, I stare at the door, wondering if my heart will ever slow down.

And then it opens.

Standing there in a t-shirt and mesh basketball pants is…
Dylan Aoki
? Damn, I haven’t seen him in forever. Well, since Liam’s funeral.

Dude hasn’t changed much. Dark almond shaped eyes and pitch black hair that sticks up on top. He used to tip the ends, but not so much anymore.

“Elizabeth? Elizabeth Van Zee?” he says, smiling.

I nod. “Yeah. How’ve you been?”

He opens the screen door for me and ushers me inside. “Good. What’re you doing here?”

“I, uh, I’m supposed to be meeting with Damian this morning. Does he—” I scan the living room for traces of leftover immaturity—“live here?”

Dylan breathes out a laugh. “We’re roommates.”

Ah, that makes sense. Like Liam with Dylan’s older brother, Damian and Dylan had been best friends before the accident. I’m glad they seem to have reconnected after Kate’s funeral.

Then, suddenly, Dylan frowns. “Um, he was expecting you?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s what I thought from our phone conversation yesterday. Is he not home?”

Dylan scratches his head while twisting around to look behind him. “Uh…” He drops his hand and turns back to me. “Yeah, he’s home. I’ll go get him. You can sit if you like,” he says, motioning to the sofa before rounding the corner into the hallway beside it.

O—kay.

I sit on the edge of the cushion and hear Dylan knocking on a door.

“Hey man,” he says. “Elizabeth Van Zee is here to see you.”

There’s some inaudible grumbling and quick shuffling around. Then I hear the soft click of the door as it opens, and Damian’s voice filters into the living room even though he’s speaking low to Dylan.

“Shit, man. I’ll be right out. Keep her busy or something.”

Not a good sign. What little hope I had is rapidly diminishing.

Dylan comes back in, and I smile at him as if I’d heard nothing.

“He’ll be out in a minute. Can I get you something to drink?” he asks.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine.”

Dylan takes a seat in an armchair. “I heard you moved to, like, Florida or somewhere.”

“Yep. I’m studying marine biology down there.”

“Impressive.”

“How about you?” I say, making small talk.

“Pre-med, same as Damian.”

Well, that’s interesting.

“Damian’s doing pre-med, huh?”

“Yeah, some sort of compromise he had with the doctor. Three years later, he’s never bothered to switch to anything else.”

“Three years? He’s not a senior?”

“Nah.” Dylan shakes his head. “After Kate died, he didn’t do much. Months later, his dad convinced him to enroll fall semester. Dr. Lowell bought this house and asked if I’d room with him. Not a bad offer.”

“Not at all,” I agree, and as I say it, someone steps out of the hallway, but it’s not Damian.

I shouldn’t care. Really, I shouldn’t. I have no right to care. So, why can’t I breathe at the sight of her doing an obvious walk of shame?

Booze. Girls. Nothing has changed with him.

I make up my mind then and there. I’m not telling him. I’m not going to Australia.

The girl, who is barely able to hold herself up, is a tiny thing, probably only a freshman or sophomore. Not legally old enough to be as hung over as I can tell she is. Her hair is a ratted mess, half in a ponytail, half strung out everywhere else. And last night’s party clothes are scarcely covering her frame. Her top is on inside out, the zipper of her skirt off-center, and she’s carrying her underwear instead of wearing them.

That’s fantastic.

I glance away when I see the embarrassment flash across her face, her cheeks reddening as she takes in her audience. Quietly, I clear my throat and stare in front of me, wishing I’d stayed home like my gut told me to.

The sound of Damian’s voice reaches low into my abdomen, and I hate how it still has that sort of power over me.

“I’ll be right back, Elle,” he says softly from the hallway.

I feel his gaze pinned on me, but I don’t meet it. Instead, I force a smile and nod. “That’s fine.”

“No, dude,” Dylan says, standing. “I’ll take her home. Elizabeth came to talk with you, so you should do that.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Dylan help the girl as she wobbles into the kitchen. Damian has no idea how I feel about him, and especially after what I just witnessed, I really need to pull myself together and pretend his behavior doesn’t bother me. Because it shouldn’t. Because I shouldn’t still be in love him.

He walks around the furniture, and his socks come into my line of sight. “Sorry about that. I overslept.”

I gather my strength and lift my head. “No problem. It’s”—I swallow—“good to see you.”

Too good. Damn, if it’s possible, he’s more attractive now than when I last saw him. Not as skinny and more…sturdy, I guess. Like he’s spent more time in the gym or playing basketball, which he used to do a lot before he gave that up too.

But what really catches me are those sapphire eyes of his, darker than mine and oh so powerful. I’m glad he doesn’t know I see those beautiful blue irises every single day, and maybe that’s part of the reason I can’t get him out of my head.

“It’s good to see you too, Elle.”

Damn my heart.

I inhale, the air not fully filling my lungs. I can’t let him do this to me. Not when this will be the last time I ever see him. I’m leaving to go home to Florida tomorrow, and I’m not looking back. Out of sight, out of mind…sort of. As much as it can be.

“You hungry? I thought we could grab some breakfast somewhere,” I suggest. No way can I stay here, on his turf. At this point, I want to eat, say goodbye, and forget I even considered asking him for this favor.

“Famished,” he replies. “There’s a little diner down the street that serves the best sausage gravy. Almost better than my mom’s.”

His mention of Nora like that makes me smile. Maybe he’s at least moved into a better place with regard to her death.

“Sounds promising,” I say.

I’m not hungry, but if I up and leave, he might figure something’s going on, and I definitely do
not
want him swinging by my parents’ house to find out. I need to be smooth, calm, and collected.

Then get the hell away from him and these condemning palpitations in my chest.

“Come on, my car is in the garage,” he offers, the corner of his mouth tugging up and showing off a dimple.

Liam had them too. In fact, they’re what made me talk to Liam in the first place. Unlike Liam, Damian’s are far from innocent, yet the dimples give that impression, though, and they, like his eyes, his voice, have the power to pull me in.

I can’t ride with him.

“I should drive separately. I don’t have much time today.”

Damian crosses his arms. His gaze washes over me, and the sexy grin falls from his face. He takes a few seconds to respond. When he does, it reminds me that I’ve known him too long, and he knows me too well. “You didn’t drive all this way to spend a thirty-minute meal with me. What’s going on?”

My palms are clammy. I have no explanation to give him, so I agree to his riding arrangements. “Nothing. We can take your car.” I stand up, wipe my hands on my jeans, and grab my purse off the sofa. “Lead the way.”

He eyes me skeptically. He doesn’t buy my response, but he walks to the kitchen. I follow him out the back door that leads into the garage, and I’m surprised to see he still has the same black BMW he’s had since his sixteenth birthday—a gift from his father.

He opens the passenger door for me, and I thank him. Nora made sure to teach her sons chivalry because, she once told me, “real gentlemen are rare treasures.” I doubt she’d be pleased with how Damian uses her advice.