Chapter 25:

In the movies, some of the intimate scenes fade to black. The others performed in all its glory. The technical movements resulted in a sexy, beautiful scene. I wasn't an actress, there were no cameras or directors telling me what to do, where to touch or how to move under him. Damien's lips trailed all over my neck, jaw, chin, collarbone, kissing all over my skin warmed my belly and core. I held my breath, hearing his pants made me nervous. I shouldn't be nervous, I'm a young adult and have watched enough college films. No cameras, no producers, no script.

Without the sexy music in the background, I moved my body to match his rhythm. It was awkward, I adjusted my hips and gasped quietly as he trailed further down. I bit my bottom lip, watching his face head between my thighs. He was staring dead into my eyes for confirmation to continue. I nodded silently to confirm my consent.

The voice in my head was saying to stop him and leave. Push him away. He inched lower and lower. I whimpered, the goosebumps tingling from my head to my toes. The dampness in my center builds, I have not been this wet before. Was that possible? I shut my eyes. This was it, this was happening. No one has been between my legs besides me. I quivered at the tip of his tongue, gulping as he was inching closer and closer. He pushed my legs open wider, I inhaled sharply. He licked my clit softly. The sharpness on my spine filled my belly. Arching my lower back, attempting to close my legs from the pleasure but he pushed it open again. I moaned loud, holding it in. I shivered, his fingers working at the same time with his mouth. This was more of an adult film than a romance movie. My hand reached for his hair, grabbing and caressing. More. This was more than rough, he was starving. I wanted more. I looked down to make sure I wasn't dreaming. He's devouring me like I was his last meal. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. When he looked up, my eyes fluttered backwards. Gut pulled downward and legs trembled. "Oh my-" I gasped, moaned, wriggled, writhed. The motion of his thumb and mouth had me in a release. This was real. It was happening to me. It wasn't a story I heard from someone else's experience. I wasn't watching it on TV. I screamed, an explosion all over me. My head was on fire. I saw stars when I opened my eyes. I was on air, in a cloud. My eyes lingered on the ceiling. The fluttering in my stomach. I breathed in and out, I didn't move, I had no words, I felt... hot and shaky

His guttural laughter woke me up. He kissed down below and my stomach. Leaning over me, he pecked my cheek. His thumb brushed my bottom lip, pressing with light pressure. The same thumb he used between my thighs. I was speechless. He raised his body and chastity kissed me. I didn't think tasting myself would be so intimate. But it was. It tasted salty. I let Damien Beckett go down on me. And I liked it.

"Should I return the favor?" I whispered against his mouth.

He smirked. "Do you want to?" He asked, nipping at my bottom lip. The sound of his voice made my heart skip a beat.

"You have to guide me." Damien's eyes widened, eyebrows raised and he licked his lips.

His phone rang, he lifted and answered. His frown was deep. I watched him talk, focusing on his lips. Those lips that were between my thighs. Those lips that sucked and licked me until I became undone.

"I have to go." Damien removed himself off my body. I was burning, topless, empty.

I fanned my face, lifting my upper body halfway. "Where are you going?" I wondered.

"Hospital," he said.

"Are you ok?"

"My cousin's in a coma." The sentence stopped me short. I had no idea what to say.

"Oh ok. I'll get going."

"Come on." His tone was demanding.

"What?" I scoffed.

"You're coming with me."

I stopped, he wanted me to come? "Really? Are you sure? What happened to wanting your space?"

"You're here. You're coming with me."

"Okay." I needed to get dressed, my entire skin was still on fire. The drive to the hospital could cool me down and distract me from what happened.

We arrived at the hospital. Red Cross. We drove for forty minutes, while the radio played easy listening music. I dared to change the station, I reached over and pressed the button, I peeked over my shoulder to see a scowl. He didn't budge when I touched it. It looked like it could be serious. I felt the car slowing down, he turned and began to park in the available space. The drive didn't distract me, I kept thinking about him, his mouth. I attempted to listen to the lyrics of Tay. My mind went back to Damien's movement. I forced myself to not look at him, or his fingers, or his kissable lips. I fanned my face, breathing slowly. I should roll the window down.

He removed his seatbelt. Before I could ask another question, he was already exiting his car.

"Wait," I told him, following behind after closing the passenger door. He pressed the alarm button on his keychain. I speed up my feet to catch up. I didn't ask while we entered the hospital, the sliding doors opened with a whoosh, the air conditioner hit my face. I knew the familiar smell already of menthol and medicine. I felt a bit uneasy like I was the one going for my appointment. I followed wherever he went, his shoulders were high up to his ears. Usually his mood was standoffish and neutral, now he seemed nervous.

"It's me again," he said to the receptionist in a comical tone, yet he sounded shaky. I appeared from behind him to show myself that I was here too.

"Damien, good to see you," she shook her head, handing him the visitor's badge.

"I need two. Brought a friend." He nodded his head in my direction. A friend. Is that what we were? What we did in his room was not what friends did. I giggled and cleared my throat. She wordlessly handed him another one. He gave it to me. I took it wordlessy, who were we visiting? I didn't think I should be here, it seemed too personal.

"Um, Damien, do you need me here?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do," he told me in a serious tone.

"It just... seems private." I began to stutter, not knowing what to say.

"What we did was private." He pulled me from behind as we entered the elevator. We shared a comfortable silence. I tapped my foot repeatedly, licking my bottom lip, the elevator bell dinged on the correct floor. Damien got out first and I followed behind. The beeping sounds from the heart monitors didn't comfort me, it kept me on edge and I had so many questions for him. To break the tense mood I asked, "want me to hold your hand?" I held out my hand in a funny gesture.

He didn't say anything, scold, or laugh, he took my hand and squeezed it gently. "I was kidding."

He didn't let go as he reached for the knob and twisted it slowly. He gestured his head for us to enter, I slowly followed forward, trying my hardest to keep calm. On the bed was a boy with bruises and cuts on his face. His legs elevated, and wrapped on his head. He seemed pretty banged up. "This is the reason I'm in the support group. Besides my rage. Only Pam knows. Ms. Donavon." I itched the inside of my arm, staring at the body again on the bed. He was opening up to me, I took this opportunity to ask before he closed off.

"What happened?" I asked, it was what I could think of and stayed by the doorway.

"Car accident," he answered in a solemn tone.

"Oh, wow." I leaned on the wall, gulped but kept my eyes steady on him. He sat on one of the spare seats near the bed.

"Come sit," he maneuvered with his hand. I stepped forward, skittering my footsteps and almost tripped. I took one of the chairs and sat next to him. "No one knew he relapsed."

"Relapsed?" I asked with a frown.

He let out a shaky breath. "He was addicted for a few years. Anything he could get his hands on his high did not let up, went to rehab for 6 months. He thought it wasn't fun to be sober then he got back on cocaine, then expanded to fentanyl." He swallowed hard, seeing his Adam's apple bobbed. I kept my mouth shut so he could finish. "He was selling it as well."

"Why do you feel guilty?" I asked.

"I couldn't stop him. No one could, not his parents, nothing. He roped me into selling it, and made some money on the side. He promised me he would stop."

I tensed up, my chest tightened. "That night, his parents found his stash and he destroyed the house. His mom, my aunt called me. To calm him down before he hit her. By the time I got there, he was getting in his car and I got in. He sped off and kept pressing on the pedal. I did everything I could to swerve. Sure, I got off light, but he's paying for my consequences with his life."

"This isn't your fault."

"Then why can't I sleep?" His voice shook, and ducked his head down.

"Because you thought you could help him. And you couldn't. This could be his second chance when he wakes up."

"And if he doesn't?"

"He will. I'm sure of it."

"What about my second chance? I don't deserve it."

"This is it. You don't see that? Everyone deserves one." I took his hand from his lap, lacing it with mine and squeezed. I grinned when his head snapped up to me.

"You think so?"

"I know so." I breathed through my nose, squeezing his hand again. It's been awhile since I've stayed this long in a hospital room if I wasn't having a check up or a relative was sick. I didn't think it would be a good time to bring that up. I just smiled through to make him feel better, he was opening up to me. I wanted him to.

"His parents blamed me for it. They thought I was the one that put him up to it."

"That's terrible." I winced.

"They forgave me, but I don't know how long that will last."

"And Ray?"

"Ray's just wants money."

"You should tell someone, like Ms. Donavan."

"What? That the guy that I illegally raced with is blackmailing me? Good idea." He scoffed and released my hand, laying back on his chair. He recoiled so fast.

"Sorry, bad idea." It really was. I hid my hands in my sleeves.

"Don't worry about me," he joked.

"What makes you think I'm worried?"

"You're hiding your hands."

"You noticed?" I joked.

"Sometimes."

He leaned in, pulling my chair by the legs. I hitched a breath. His mouth almost touched mine, I lingered.

"I should take you home. This is too much." He stood up, bringing his hand through his hair.

"My uncle passed away from cancer last year," I blurted.

"Most of the days were spent in the hospital room or in the waiting room for answers. My sisters and I comforted my mom as much as we could before it was over. He was her brother. They were close." Blinking away my tears, I wiped under my eyes. The dreaded phone call when I answered, I thought back to the sinking feeling in my gut when my aunt told me he was gone. It broke my mother. She wouldn't talk about it, she still wouldn't talk about it. She only talked about my issues, my feelings. "It's one of the reasons why I'm in therapy. Also the overdose." I scoffed.

"Overdose, you?"

"I took a bunch of pills to study. Before a volleyball game, I passed out on the court, spend a week in the hospital. My parents weren't happy that their perfect daughter was a substance abuser. It wasn't their idea to take me to therapy. They suggested that I go to church." I laughed dryly. "It was after my uncle died, no one wanted to talk about it, my parents kept fighting. I drowned them out with late night studying, hoping to get a scholarship." I let out a shaky breath, Damien said nothing, staring into my eyes. His eyes were crystal blue.

"Life, it's testing us. My uncle was here, now he's not. The only thing we have are moments." My voice cracked, I cleared my throat. "This isn't about me, it's about you. I'm glad you told me about James. Brought me here. Thank you. He will wake up."

"You're the first person not judging me." He grasped my neck, our foreheads pressed together, he sniffed as the tears dripped from his nose. "You're one of the few people I could trust. You don't talk a lot." He chuckled, I joined along brushing away my hair. He brought up his hand, brushing it away for me. I felt my stomach and heart flip again. "Plus you're too cute to turn away." He flicked my chin, making me blush.

We stayed a little longer. He introduced me to him and we spoke to him about current events and his favorite comic books and novels. It was nice. He trusted me. We left the room, heading to the cafeteria. "Coffee?" He asked me.

"Sure." I sat down at the table, lacing my fingers when he went to the line.

"What's up?" I looked to the deep voice, the boy was staring at me with a smile. He's probably on the phone. I checked for headphones. He continued his gaze. I frowned as I stared at anything familiar about him. Black gelled hair, dark brown eyes, tanned skin. Oh, it's him. From the pharmacy and from the bookstore. I checked behind me, I could be mistaken that he was talking to me. No one was behind me.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked, pointing at myself.

"Is there anyone else I should be talking to?" He took the empty seat behind me, I scooted to the side. I let out an uneasy laugh. "You know Damien, right? I've seen you two together." He pulled into my space, I backed away. He was giving me sketchy vibes with his body language. He attempted to lean in again.

"I guess," I shrugged.

"Huh." I gulped. "I knew I recognized a beautiful face."

I cleared my throat, tugging the collar of my shirt. "Ok. Do you need something?"

"How rude of me. I'm Ray. Ray Cordero." He held out his hand.

"Oh, Ray." I know, I wanted to say, instead I shook his hand, "Olivia." His hand was strong, cold. He squeezed my hand, lingered and his index finger brushed the back of my hand. I removed my hand from his. "Are you two old friends? Enemies? Acquaintances? Exes?"

He chuckled, "More like old friends. I knew him from around the neighborhood. Our group of friends knew each other. You were at the race, right?"

"Yeah." He continued to stare at me. Lingering with creepiness in his eyes, I broke my gaze away.

"Oh, yeah, you lost. Sorry." I tried to sound sympathetic, he was giving me creep vibes. What else did he want?

"Yep." Was he here to pick up medicine again or for a check up? "I remember you picking up medicine at the pharmacy."

"Oh yeah. For my brother, his pain meds," he told me.

"Is he ok?"

"No, he's here. I take care of him. He broke his leg and arm."

"Oh, that sucks." I offered my sympathy again, holding my hands together, waiting for him to leave. I held my breath, looking forward.

"It does. Mom's a mess."

"I bet."

"What brings you here? Candy striper? He asked, attempting to move my hair off my forehead. I let out a nervous laugh and pulled on my sleeves again.

"Visiting."

"Damien here?" He asked with a glint of fury in his eyes.

"I'm not sure," I stuttered, I had a feeling Damien didn't want him to know he's here. "You seem angry with him."

"Angry is an understatement. It's his cousin's fault anyway," he muttered, furrowed brows and wrinkled forehead.

"What?" I asked. Did he just say-

"What the hell are you doing here?" I looked up, Damien walked up to us with fury on his face.

"You're not the only one visiting family in the hospital, Damien." He stood up to meet his eye level. A standoff between them, faces close for dominance. They're not gonna fight here, are they? "I saw your car in the lot. Of course you're here. How's your cousin?"

"Still not awake, how's your brother?"

"Broken leg, thanks to him! He should have died." Damien grabbed his collar, lifting him inches off the floor. A security guard strolled at the end of the hall and spotted them. No way were they going to jail tonight. I have no money for bail.

"Guys," I said in a hushed voice. I stepped between them. "This isn't the place or time. Please." I nodded at the security guard ready to reach for his walkie talkie.

Ray scoffed, backing away. "See you around, Beckett," Ray said, he turned to me and said, "later Olivia." He winked, not leaving eye contact before he disappeared in the hallway.

"What did he tell you?" Damien's voice was gruff, eyes filled with anger.

"He's visiting his brother. Does he know James or something?"

"You need to stay away from him," he warned with a growl.

"I'm already doing that, he gives me the creeps. How does he know about the accident?"

"Let's go." He walked away, ignoring my question and pushing the door with force. He was crying and now he's angry. Whatever it was between them, I wanted no part of it. I refused to be in his drama. Pushing the doors to open and feeling the breeze of the night air, the mood shifted. It was tense and awkward. I glanced for a minute, squeezing his fingers around the steering wheel white knuckling. The entire drive was silent. I didn't dare to look at him again. I left the car without saying goodbye. I shouldn't feel dirty, but I did.