Eight Days (Love Always #1.5) (8 page)

After

At one in the morning, Marcy snores softly in the other bed, and I can’t stay awake any longer. The coffee she brought me earlier wore off an hour ago. Even another set of push-ups didn’t cut it.

I rest my head on my arms on top of Kate’s blankets. The white noise of the machines lolls me, because that’s what it has become after eight days. White noise.

My eyelids drop as I tick off another hour.

~*~

A hand skims over my hair. Her light, airy touch electrifies me, and suddenly, I’m awake. Wide awake.

I take in her eyes gazing back at me. Beautiful brown irises that put nature to shame. For a second, I wonder if I’m still asleep. But then she smiles at me.
Me.
The guy who came so close to walking away from her because he was too chickenshit to deal with his own insecurities.

These last eight days, I didn’t keep coming back to her because of me.
I
haven’t been holding onto her. No, she’s been holding onto me.

“Hey there,” I whisper.

I’m grinning like an idiot now as I scoot my chair closer to her. I never did come up with what to say to her. It’s a good thing, though, because there are no words to express how I feel. A strange concoction of fear, elation, and inadequacy rises in my chest, and I can feel the sting in my eyes as I attempt to hold back my relief.

She’s awake. She’s okay.

Her eyelids close, and I can’t let that happen. No, no. She can’t close them again, not after she just woke up.

I bend over her to press a kiss across her lips. She lightly sucks mine, and it feels so damn good. I pull back a little to look at her. Her eyes are open again, and she’s smiling. Fucking
smiling
at me.

I can’t take it. I need her.

I cup her face between my palms, holding on tighter, but I’m not letting her go. Crushing my mouth against hers, I’m desperate. This girl drives me crazy, and I want all of her.

She presses a hand on my chest and pushes me back. She’s gasping for the air I’ve robbed her of. Her gaze pierces into me as she touches her fingertips to her lips. Hot damn, that’s sexy.

“Sorry,” I say, staring at her mouth and wishing I could kiss her again.

She searches the room as she catches her breath. “Uh, um,” she pauses, her brows pinched together. “I’m…in the hospital.”

I’m not surprised she doesn’t remember. After all, she was passed out when we brought her here.

“The virus took over your system, and, because of the chemo, your body couldn’t fight it,” I explain, trailing my fingers down her face. I can’t stop touching her.

She seems to have her breathing under control now, so I dip down to steal another kiss. “You’ve been out for eight days,” I say against her lips.

“Eight days?” she repeats, her eyes widening in surprise.

I nod, then motion toward Marcy. “Your mother has been sleeping in the empty bed over there.”

Kate doesn’t glance over. Her focus remains on me.

“And you?” Her voice cracks a little when she asks.

Oh fuck.

I take her face in my hands again and peer into her eyes. They glisten under the soft light above her. “There’s no way I’d leave you,” I say, because it’s true.

The corner of her mouth tips up at my words, and she has me. I can’t live without this girl.

She peeks over at her mother. Before she settled down, Marcy popped two Tylenol PMs, so she’ll be out for a while. Like me, Kate’s mother is low on sleep.

“Would you like me to wake her up?” I ask.

Kate shakes her head. “No, let her sleep.”

“I think she’d want to see that you’re awake.” In fact, I know she would. I’ll do whatever Kate wants, though I hope she’ll tell me not to worry about it. I’m selfish, and I want this moment all to myself.

“I know. But I don’t have the heart to wake her; she looks so peaceful.”

Her answer doesn’t surprise me. Kate’s the opposite of me—selfless.

“You should probably get some sleep too,” I say, thinking of her well-being.

The silly expression on Kate’s face makes me chuckle. “Apparently, I’ve been asleep for eight days.” A small giggle passes her lips, and the sound shoots straight to my chest.

This moment is better than I expected.

“Okay, but it’s four in the morning,” I point out. It’s not like there’s anything we can do at this hour.

Kate studies me for a second before she pats the mattress beside her. “If it’s not too much to ask, can you just hold me?”

The way she asks creates a longing inside me that I don’t know what to do with.

This girl. This beautiful, sick girl wants me. Not Liam. Not even someone
like
Liam. Me. Messed-up, broken, undeserving me.

I may never be the man she deserves, but maybe that’s okay. Because maybe the man she deserves isn’t the one she needs. And that man, the one she needs? Yeah, I can be him. I
am
him. For as long as she wants me.

I slide in beside her and pull her against me. I’m still scared. Afraid of how she moves me and how this might turn out. But I’m not walking away. I’m
in
this.

Pressing my lips to her temple, I revel in her. With her, I’m alive for the first time since before Liam died. I
feel
again.

My scars heal with every kiss, every touch from Kate.

“It’s never too much to ask,” I say.

I don’t know what I’m diving into, but two days later when she asks me the question I’ve asked myself over the last week, I finally have an answer.

Kate drops her gaze, her voice unsure. “Why me, Damian? I’m sick.”

I lift her chin and stare into those stunning eyes of hers. The eyes I longed to see over those eight days. “Because you don’t expect me to be someone I’m not,” I tell her.

And for the first time in years, I don’t either.

The End

Coming 2015

From Limitless Publishing

Love Always, Damian

By d. Nichole King

Chapter 1

Damian

The box under my bed taunts me. I ignore it. This year, I won’t succumb to its cries on this day.

“Fuck this shit.” I roll off my bed and search the dresser for my keys. Not there.

Where the hell did I put them?

I yank the door open and round the corner into the bathroom. Nothing but the usual.

Out in the living room, I throw the cushions off the sofa and check the chair and the coffee table. A handful of loose change, a couple of empty condom wrappers, three McDonald’s French fries, and a ten-dollar bill, which I pocket. No keys.

“God damn it!”

I stomp into the kitchen and grab Dylan’s motorcycle keys from the drawer. Dude never misplaces anything. Predictable bastard.

Apparently he heard me because when I get back to the living room, he’s standing there.

I glance at him on my way past. “Borrowing your motorcycle.”

“What are you doing, Damian?”

Turning around, I dangle the keys in front his face. “Borrowing. Your. Motorcycle.” I repeat it slowly, enunciating every word so maybe he gets it the second time.

“Last day of finals is tomorrow.” My roommate is annoyed. “Look, bro, it’s been four years since Ka—”

Suddenly, I have Dylan pinned to the wall, my hand around his throat. I squeeze hard enough to make him understand. “You’re my best friend, man, but I don’t need your psycho-babble bullshit again. Not today.”

Dylan sighs and nods as best he can.

I take a step back, letting go of him. He rubs his neck, and I feel a small pang of guilt. Dude means well.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” I flip the keys into my palm and walk out the door.

I love the sound of Dylan’s motorcycle when I rev it up. The noise drowns out everything, especially the shit in my head. Her memory hasn’t faded, not even a little.

Speeding down the street, I don’t think. The route is on autopilot in my brain.

I park in my usual spot and stuff the keys in my pocket. It’s Tuesday night, so the parking lot is almost empty. Good thing, too, because tonight, I want to be alone.

Loud music assaults me as soon as I walk in. I don’t even look around to see who’s there. No need; everything I want is behind the counter.

“What’ll it be, Damian?” Max asks.

“Tequila. Straight up,” I say, pounding my fist twice on the wood.

“Sure thing, man.”

I don’t sit on a stool, and I don’t wait. On my way to a booth in the corner, I shoot a quick glance at the guys playing pool. I recognize a couple of them from school. For them, tonight is about relaxing. For me, it’s about forgetting.

I slide in, running my fingers through my hair. The way her dark eyes still pierce me guts me to the core. They’ll always haunt me.

“Damian, my love, my final wish is for you to let me go.”

I can’t do it.

“Two tequila shots.”

I almost jump out of my seat at the sound, but when I stare at the waitress, I realize the voice didn’t belong to
her
. Of course she would never have said that. She hated me drinking.

I give the new girl a quick nod. She turns, and I down the first shot, watching the way her ass moves as she walks away.

Flipping the glass over, I send a wave to Max, then knock back the other one. He usually cuts me off at ten, and tonight, that won’t take long. It won’t be enough to drown her out of my head, but it might be enough to make the images fuzzy.

“Are you happy, Damian?”

I squeeze my lids shut. What the fuck kind of question is that? A knife stabs me through the heart, and I want to vomit.

I hear two more glasses hit the table in front of me, forcing my eyes open. My gaze darts to the nametag on the waitress’ t-shirt, just inches above her left nipple poking hard into the cotton. I lick my lips.

Cameron.

I guess she’ll do.

“Another round,” I say.

As I wait, my mind takes me back to that morning, and how she waited until sunrise to leave me. Maybe it was her way of reminding me.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? No matter how dark it gets, the sun always rises and starts a new day. The darkness is forgotten.”

God, I miss her so much. Everything about her.

Cameron sets two more shots on the table, and I don’t look at her this time. I’m gonna need more alcohol for that.

I rub my face with my palms.

“I’ll always be with you.”

Fuck, no!

I jab my fists into the seat, pain racing through my knuckles. She fucking left me all alone! She’s gone and I’m here. It’s not fucking fair.

The sting of tears threatens, so I kill the shots, one right after the other. I slam the second glass on the table too hard, but I don’t care.

When Cameron comes back over, she sets two more in front of me and says, “Rough night?”

I huff and down the first one. “You could say that.”

Her bare thigh is so close to me. I can’t wait to feel it up later.

“Bring me two more, if you would,” I say.

She bites her lip. “Um, I don’t know. Max…”

“Just bring me the fucking shots. Max and I have an agreement.”

Cameron glances over her shoulder at the bartender. Getting the confirmation from Max, she swings around.

“I’ll be right back.”

I lean back, rubbing a finger over my lips, the alcohol finally kicking in.

“You have a whole life in front of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t dwell on the past.”

Cameron saunters over with a tray of my last two shots of the night. I stare at her thighs, already imagining what they taste like.
I’m moving on, baby. Just like you told me to.

“Thanks,” I say as she sets them down. “When are you off?”

She hesitates. “Um, like, now. My boyfriend is picking me up.”

Well, shit.

I down the last two and go up to pay my tab. My buzz was decent, but not enough. It’s never enough anymore.

“Thanks, Max.”

“See ya, man.”

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I take my time walking across the parking lot to Dylan’s motorcycle. I pull out the keys and rev the engine. Her face isn’t gone, but it’s barely recognizable now. Just how I need it.

Slowly, I back out and notice Cameron standing against the side of the bar, hugging her arms from the chill.

Stood up. Sweet.

I pull up next to her. “Need a lift?”

“Uh, no. Toby should be here any minute.”

Toby Stanton? Cameron might be an even better lay than I imagined.

“Toby should have been here by now.” I reach my hand to her. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

She bites her lip again, and I hope to know what that feels like in about ten minutes.

Cameron sighs and takes my hand. “I live on campus—Frederiksen Court.”

I help her up behind me, her arms slipping around my waist. Smirking, I say, “Hang on.”

We peel out into traffic, the wind slamming against my face. Cameron nestles her head into my back and holds me tighter. She says something, but I can’t hear her.

On the way back to mine and Dylan’s apartment—off-campus—I take a shortcut. By now, I just need to get Cameron naked. Fuck everything else.

I park beside my BMW and shut off the engine.

“I said Frederiksen Court,” Cameron says, confused.

I climb off and get back on, facing her. “I said I’d take you home. This is where I live.”

“Toby—”

“—is off fucking someone else and forgot about you.” My hands find her knees and begin sliding up her thighs. They feel as good as they look.

She frowns, but doesn’t say anything. I’m right, and she knows it.

Taking in every inch of her skin, I run my fingers up her inner thighs as what I said sinks in. To let it go deeper, I kiss her neck, sucking on the flesh. She’ll cave. They always do.

“He’s probably working out late at the gym,” she says, trying to convince herself.

“Yeah, probably not.” I switch sides, and she tilts her head, letting me continue. Down below, I move her panties to the side to massage her. She stiffens a little, gasping.

“Toby…he’s a…a National Champion boxer. He—uh—” She pauses, her breaths become shallow, just how I like it.

Yep. Toby Stanton. This is gonna be good.

She swallows. “He works out a lot.”

I grunt. “I bet he does.”

I
know
he does.

She nods. “He does.”

Her hips start to move against my fingers, and I crush my lips into hers. I’m not surprised that she returns the kiss with fervor. Toby only gets the feisty ones.

My fingers start slipping on her, and I can’t take it anymore. I’ve got to get my mouth on that.

When I let go, a disappointed gasp escapes her. I help her off the bike and lead her inside to my room. Thankfully, Dylan is already in bed. He hates when I bring girls home.

My shirt’s over my head before I have the door closed behind me. Kicking it, it slams closed. I don’t take the time to lock it.

Cameron fumbles with my belt; Fuck that shit. I pull her close, slide my hands under the waistband of her skirt, feeling every inch of the smooth skin. Walking her backwards to my bed, I lean into her until she sits and I can finish the job, tossing the black wad and her panties across the room.

With her sitting there, I undo my belt and jeans, stepping out of them. Toby is clearly out of her thoughts now. She moans in excitement. Now to get the rest of her goddamn clothes off.

Gliding my palms up her thighs, I take a short detour between them.

“Oh, yes!” she cries out as I slip inside of her. I finger her until she’s on the verge of coming.

Pulling out, I chuckle, knowing it’s about to get a whole lot better real quick. She frowns, giving me puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” I whisper in her ear.

She throws her head back with a smile on her face.

I grab the bottom of her shirt and begin to lift it, but it won’t move past her chest. She’d pinned her nametag to her bra.

“Oh, Cameron,” I groan. I hate that I have to take the extra time to undo the damn thing.

“Sorry,” she says, panting. Music to my ears. “Here, let me get it.” She turns the top of her shirt inside out, unhooking the pin. “There. Oh, and this is my friend’s nametag. I forgot mine. My name is Katey.”

Someone just punched me in the stomach.

‘Don’t leave me, Katie. I’m gonna fuck up, but don’t leave me.’

“Get. The fuck. Out,” I breathe.

Her brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

“Get the fuck. Out of here.” I gather up her clothes and shove them in her chest, knocking her backwards a little. “Now.”

The pathetic look on her face doesn’t faze me. She means absolutely nothing to me.

I throw the door open and don’t look at her as she shuffles out undressed from the waist down. I don’t give a shit.

“How am I supposed to get home?”

“I don’t give a damn,” I say and slam the door in her face.

A stunned second later, she screams, “You’re a fucking asshole!” from the other side.

I collapse on the bed, my face buried in the blankets.

Yeah, Kate, I know. I know.