Chapter 23
23
R ain continued to drip into Sam’s eyes and she tried to blink an answer into existence. Why hadn’t she kissed Damon when he’d asked her?
She’d been scared. Terrified that kissing him would seal her fate and she’d be stuck in Tybee. She’d liked Damon then, of course she had, and she knew that if she acknowledged those feelings in any real way, she’d never leave him. And she needed to leave. She couldn’t stay, not even for him.
But maybe Sam had been wrong not to kiss him. Despite how she’d broken his heart once, here he was again, standing with her in the rain, and cradling her neck just so. Maybe this was the universe giving her a second chance. Maybe she’d seen the life she could’ve led so that when she had the opportunity, she wouldn’t fuck it up again. He had a question, and he deserved an answer.
“I wanted to kiss you,” she said. “I always wanted to kiss you.”
“But you didn’t.” His thumb stroked a line across her cheekbone. “Why?”
“I have thought about that moment over and over for years. You know, one of those what if questions. It was complicated, because I cared about you too much back then. I was afraid that it wouldn’t just be a kiss. It would be forever.”
“You were scared of forever with me?” The rain was so heavy it created a kind of thundering white noise that Sam could barely hear her own thoughts over.
“I was scared of becoming my mom.” Her voice was louder now. “I’m so sorry, Damon. I just couldn’t be her. It wasn’t about you. It was never about you.”
“And what now?” Damon asked.
Sam swallowed. She lived in Paris. He lived in Tybee. Worlds away. But here he was, in front of her, and she knew this was her moment. “What I want is you.”
He waited a beat, maybe processing. And she was so still, wondering if she’d said too much, or not enough, but hoping that he believed her.
“I still want you,” he said.
And with his admission, she fisted her fingers through his hair, pulled him in and finally kissed Damon Rocha. Their lips crashed against each other, and then her tongue met his, and his hands pulled her in so close that they became one moving, breathing being together. Her hands trailed along his back, and he pulled her shirt up and off over her head. He moved her so she was pressed against the siding of the house, his body covering hers like he owned her.
He grabbed one of her legs, then the other, and she wrapped herself around him. She would never say no to kissing Damon again. She couldn’t. Not when she knew he tasted like the salty sea air. Not when he moaned into her mouth as she pulled his shirt up and over his head.
“I need you,” she said and pushed into him.
He winced in pleasure, or pain, she wasn’t sure, but said, “Your grandma is inside.”
“She’s asleep. We can be quiet.”
“Not with what I have planned for you.”
The wind had started to kick up, and the palm fronds frantically blew around them.
“Look, we either go to my bedroom, or we try out here and potentially become two fatalities of the storm.”
Damon gripped her tightly and proceeded to make for the screened-in porch door.
The realization that her childhood best friend was carrying her to her old bedroom in the middle of a hurricane was surreal. All perfectly fine, she hoped. And, to be honest, she really didn’t care if it wasn’t, because what she wanted more than anything was all of Damon.
He lightly pushed open the door of her bedroom and managed to kick it closed behind them. Damon led them to her bed and as he dropped her on top of it, he stopped to look at her. “You are so goddamn beautiful.”
“Even on top of a dolphin-print duvet?”
He smiled. “ Especially on top of a dolphin-print duvet.”
“You are wild, Damon Rocha.” Sam sat up and pulled him in for another kiss.
He slicked a hand through his wet hair, but a thick strand fell in front of his eyes. He kept his gaze trained on her as he kicked off his boots. She came to the edge of the bed and reached for his belt buckle, undoing it with a click.
“Are you sure?” he asked as she reached for the button on his jeans.
“I think I’ve been waiting for this moment since I left.” She began to push his jeans down his hips. “I can’t wait any longer.”
He closed the space between them, kicking his pants off as he grabbed her face and slowly kissed her. He was soft, but the stubble was rough, and the combination of the friction and sweetness sent a gasp through her. He reached his hand around to unclasp her bra, fumbled, and she finished the clasp for him. She slid her bra off and he sucked in a breath as she leaned back on the bed.
He licked his lips and traced down the middle of her with his index finger. He carefully pulled her shorts and underwear down, and she was suddenly self-conscious to have Damon just staring at her. Or, rather, highly aware that Damon was drinking her in, in a way no one had before.
“When you blush, your whole body turns pink,” he said.
“Fair skin, I guess.” Sam bit her lip and added, “Wanna find out what color I turn when I...”
She didn’t have to finish the thought. Damon climbed onto the bed and sucked the bud of her nipple into his mouth. The sensation was so unexpected that she gasped and pulled back, but he held her steady with a palm on her back and brought her toward him again.
She couldn’t have predicted what Damon would feel like; how strong his arms would be as he lifted her up and sat her on his lap. How his back would flex as she scratched a trail across his shoulder blades. And how her legs would wrap around his waist so effortlessly.
His hands were eager and firm, and the cold rain droplets that fell from his wet hair and onto her skin made her shiver. He licked one droplet off as it traveled down her neck.
If this moment were a song on Damon’s playlist, it would start with a steady drumbeat and fingers gently strumming a guitar. “I’m ready,” she said.
“Not yet,” he said. He got on his knees and carefully lowered her onto the pillow. Her legs stayed parted for him as he made his way down her torso with his tongue. He nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, then blew a soft breath across her. Her knees tightened around his ears and he laughed. But then his tongue. Oh, God, his tongue. It flicked at her and teased her and lapped and circled and devoured.
He savored her, and as she dug her nails into his hair and let out a deep moan, she knew that she was taking him in, too. Her body tightened as he brought her to the edge she was so desperate to reach. “I’m...” she started to say.
And then a thick finger slid in and circled around as he sucked her bud into his mouth. She couldn’t help but show him how much she loved everything he was doing. She shuddered over and over again as pleasure rolled through her. Damon tightened his grip as he continued to make her come.
She could cry from how good her whole body felt. She’d had many partners, none of them meaningful, and now she was being shown what it was to be worshipped by someone who truly saw every part and accepted those pieces.
And the realization of that was...scary. Because what did any of this mean? And where would it go? But before she could ask, Damon had picked her up and rolled her on top of him. She helped him push down his boxers, and the way their bodies fit erased any questions she had.
Sam slid off him and he sat up on his elbows, watching as she pulled a condom out of her travel bag. She tore the wrapper open with her teeth and rolled it onto him. And then she was back on top and took him in her hand to guide him to her entrance. She sank down and closed her eyes from the pressure and the bliss of being filled by him.
Damon, Damon, Damon.
She couldn’t tell if she spoke his name aloud, or just to herself as a silent mantra as she moved with him. He sat up and pulled her closer against him until he tensed beneath her.
And then they sat there, tangled and holding on and not saying a word. Sam rested her head against his shoulder and heard the steady pulse of his heart as it slowed. He scratched along the length of her back, and she knew she could fall asleep there in his arms, surrounded by him, and not ever leave the spot where they were.
And they didn’t leave, not until there was a tentative knock at Sam’s door. Damon clumsily pulled the sheets around Sam, then tugged his boxers on just before Pearl turned the knob.
“Damon,” Pearl said, averting her eyes. “Your mom called. She’s been trying your cell and couldn’t reach you.”
They weren’t in high school, but this situation sure made Sam feel like she was. Was this how Alt-Sam and Damon felt when they’d been sneaking around in her room?
“Oh, okay,” Damon said. He gave Pearl a forced smile, then seemed to think better of it and awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Grandma,” Sam said. “We’ll be right out.”
“You two woke me up from my nap. Just saying.” Then she closed the door.
Sam grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it as Damon chuckled. Which then made Sam hit him with the pillow.
He gave her a soft smile, and despite her embarrassment, she smiled back, too. Damon raked a hand through his hair as he pulled his pants back on. “You pulled my shirt off outside, which means Hurricane Courtney owns it now, along with my leather jacket. Can I borrow something to wear?”
Sam pulled the top sheet around her chest and dragged it along to the closet. She pulled the lightbulb cord, fingered her way through the hangers and stopped on an old concert T-shirt they’d picked up at a Good Charlotte show. She held the shirt out to him.
He grabbed it and eyed the tag, then tried, and nearly failed, to pull the slim shirt on. It clung to his skin just as tightly as the rain had, and landed an inch above his belly button.
“Crop tops are in right now.” Sam pulled on a new pair of underwear, shorts and a Tybee High marching band sweatshirt.
“Should we talk about...” he started to say. “I mean, was that okay?”
Sam snorted. What they’d done had been more than okay. Life shattering. If this was what Alt-Sam had felt with Damon all along, she now understood why her alternate self hadn’t given him up. Sam walked to Damon and stroked her thumb across the line of his chin. “That was everything. ”
Relief crossed Damon’s face as he pulled her in tight and wrapped his big arms around her. He breathed in the scent of her, then said, “For me, too.”
He held her there. Her body turned the kind of warm and gooey that made her want to slide under the covers and cuddle. If she were in Paris, she’d go get them lattes and croissants and they’d spend the rest of the day in bed. She was about to tell him as much, but his expression was shadowed.
“You okay?” she asked.
He couldn’t hide the crease between his eyes. He took a step back from her, and the space he’d left grew cold. Sam crossed her arms to keep warm. This was why she never got into relationships—she didn’t speak the language. She had no idea what was going through his head, but she’d clearly done something wrong.
“Silence is always a good sign,” she said, her voice anxiously kicking up.
Damon cracked his neck, then his knuckles, and finally said, “My mind is all over the place right now. Just thinking about where we go from here.”
Sam’s face burned, because she didn’t know the answer. They weren’t dating, but they’d slept together. They were a couple in an alternate life, so maybe they could be in this one, too. Wasn’t that what she wanted? Weren’t these visions telling her she should want that?
But then, would she still be able to fly all over the world if she had someone waiting at home? Would Damon resent her being gone so much? This wasn’t a straightforward situation, and she didn’t want to promise him forever if she couldn’t stick the landing.
Another gentle knock at her door interrupted them. “Damon, your mom says it’s urgent.” Pearl came back into the room. She held her cell out, where there was a text chain with Cathy. “She’s texting weird emojis. Is that an evil eye? Or just a very big eye?”
Damon took the phone and exhaled sharply.
While he frowned, Grandma Pearl smirked. “Cute crop top. Those are in now.”
He bit his lower lip as he looked at Sam. “We’ll talk soon.”
He handed the phone back to Pearl, then made for the door, and Sam followed him out.
“Is it safe to ride in the storm?” she asked. Though she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him to stay.
He scratched a spot on his forehead. “I have to go.”
He kissed her briefly. And while Sam knew he had to leave—he had his family to help—she also wondered if maybe he was giving her a taste of her own medicine. Fleeing abruptly. The emotions were so raw and real that even she was a little scared. But she wasn’t sure how much of that she could show if she wanted to prove that she trusted Damon.
He gripped her fingertips and looked like he wanted to say something. Eventually, he did. “Bye, Sam-Sam.” Then he headed for the door, and she held on until the tips of their fingers broke apart.
As she watched him leave, the comfort of him did, too. And in his absence, a little knot formed in her stomach. She wanted to figure this out with Damon. She did. But also, what if they couldn’t? What if they’d had their chance once upon a time, but now their lives were far too different and complicated to find a way back?