Page 23 of Bad for Business (Pembroke Hills #2)

TWENTY-THREE

RYKER

My hand drops to my side as I watch Camille run away from me. I see her leaving, disappearing into the house and out of my view, but it takes time for my brain to process that she’s no longer in front of me.

I blink and wonder what the hell just happened.

I swear she was giving me all the signs that she wanted me to kiss her.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, my senses finally coming to me.

I quickly stand up and chase after her. I’m not going to let her avoid this. I can’t. I have to know if I was wrong in thinking she wanted to kiss me just as badly as I wanted to kiss her.

“Camille!” I yell, walking through the back doors and scanning the house. She isn’t in the kitchen or living room. I head down the hallway toward her room. The sound of a door slamming lets me know exactly where she is.

I close the distance to her bedroom. I’m not surprised at all to find her door closed.

I shouldn’t have moved so fast by the pool.

I wasn’t thinking straight. She just actually seemed to be letting me in for once, and I got ahead of myself.

I saw the woman who captured my attention months ago, and I couldn’t think straight.

The only thing on my mind was that I needed to feel the press of her lips against mine again.

I didn’t know a kiss could leave a brand until her. The moment she pressed her lips to mine at the stroke of midnight at that party, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to forget her. And that was before I brought her back to my place and we had the most incredible night together.

In the heat of the moment tonight, all I wanted was to feel that again. I didn’t just want it; I needed it. And I’m trying not to get frustrated with myself for feeling that way because it really felt like she needed it too.

Now, as I stare at a slammed door, I’m not so sure.

I test the handle, finding it locked.

“Camille, open the door.” My voice isn’t soft. It’s desperate, and I don’t even care.

There’s silence. Of course there’s fucking silence. She’s building her walls so damn high that she isn’t even going to fight about it.

I wiggle the knob again, this time harder. I don’t know what I’m thinking. It’s not like she was going to listen to me and unlock it.

“Go away, Ryker.” Her words come from the other side of the door.

I press my forehead to the wood, taking a deep breath as my emotions completely take over.

Anger at myself for wanting so desperately to kiss her in the first place.

Fury at her for running away. She gave me the smallest glimpse of what it’s like to talk to her without her guard up again, and now I’m furious that she took it away just as quickly as she gave it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. I wrap my fingers around the doorknob again and turn it, a small part of me hoping that maybe she unlocked it after all.

She didn’t.

“Leave me alone.” I’m shocked by the conviction she laces in her words. Maybe I read the situation wrong. Maybe she didn’t want to kiss me.

I let out a groan. My eyes close for a moment as I replay the moment out by the pool all over again. Maybe it was all in my head. I don’t fucking know anymore. Everything’s so twisted, and I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.

“I can’t leave you alone,” I confess. I regret the words the moment they come out. If she’s going to close herself off, why the hell should I be honest?

She doesn’t respond, because of course she doesn’t. It’s silly for me to think she would.

I stand there without saying a word. Every second that ticks by only makes my pulse spike with anger even more.

I don’t know what I was thinking. The answer is, I wasn’t thinking.

I’m never thinking straight when it comes to her.

She turns me into someone I don’t recognize.

I never fight with anybody, yet all I do is fight with her.

I never think twice about a woman, yet all I think about is her.

I never let anyone get under my skin, yet she’s carved herself down to my bones.

Camille Vaughn is the first person to drive me crazy in two very different ways—in how much I want her and how much I wish I’d never even met her.

I don’t know how long I stand there with my forehead pressed to the door and my hands holding on to the doorframe on either side of my body. It must be a while. Long enough for her to think it’s safe to open the door.

“Shit,” Camille mutters before immediately trying to slam the door.

“Not happening,” I tell her, pushing my body through the doorframe and into her room. She’s not going to lock me out. She had her chance and messed up by opening the door.

“Get out of my room,” she demands, her chest heaving up and down. Her cheeks are pink, and I can’t help but wonder what’s turning them that color.

Lust? Embarrassment? Anger?

“My family owns the house. I can be in whatever room I want, and right now, I want to be in this one.”

Her eyes go wide and flash with fury. I try to keep my gaze focused on them. She wears a dress that can’t even be considered a dress. Maybe it’s a nightgown. All I know is that the fabric is thin as fuck and clings to her body in ways that are driving me fucking mad.

She lets out a shrill, sarcastic laugh. “Perfect. So I’m stuck with you for the summer, forced to spend almost every second with you as I make sure you don’t mess things up, and I’m not even allowed one damn room to myself to escape you?”

I swallow. If this were any other time, I might feel guilty about telling her it’s my family’s house. But right now, I’m too upset at the knowledge she’s about to shut me out again to feel bad about my words.

“Don’t do it,” I demand, my gaze pinned on her. She stands next to the door, her eyes wide as she looks back at me. I lean against the farthest wall from the door, making sure I’m as deep in her room as physically possible.

“Don’t do what?” she spits.

“Pretend that you hate me.” I sigh, wondering if I’m making any kind of sense. My demand is coming out more like a plea, and the realization makes me irrationally angry. Why does it have to be her, of all people, to make me feel this way?

She’s quiet for a moment, giving me no indication of what might be going through her head.

I try to keep my gaze in a safe spot. I try to look at those aquamarine eyes that have haunted my dreams for weeks.

I really do try. But like a fucking moth to a flame, my gaze drops.

I can’t resist it. I look at her tan thighs and where the hem of the nightgown cuts dangerously high, and I remember kissing that very skin on display.

I remember the way her thighs shook when my lips kissed the soft skin at the apex of her legs. I remember the way she moaned my name.

And that’s the fucking problem.

I remember every single thing when it comes to her. And every moment I find myself hoping that the moments stuck with her the same way they’ve stuck with me, she makes it a point to let me know that she wants nothing more than to forget I even exist.

“I don’t hate you,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

The words give me the slightest bit of hope. I know she doesn’t hate me. I just would’ve bet money that she would’ve lied to us both and said she did. Maybe it’s progress that she didn’t say that.

And there it is once again. Hope. Blooming in my chest despite my head knowing hope with her is a dangerous game.

“I don’t hate you,” she repeats. She pushes her shoulders back and gets that defiant look on her face I know all too well. My stomach drops because I know I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to say next. “I just really don’t like you,” she finishes.

I’ll give her credit. She laces conviction with every word. She enunciates every single syllable, making sure she drives the point home. Her body is still. The only movement is the rise and fall of her shallow breathing.

My head spins. The edges of my vision blur, and my ears ring. I don’t know what it is that takes over my body. It could be anger. It could be devastation. Maybe it’s frustration. Whatever it is, it consumes me.

“Guess you don’t have to like me to want to kiss me, then,” I toss out. My tone is probably a little harsh, but so is hers.

Camille gasps. “Ryker.”

I shrug. “Tell me you didn’t want to kiss me out there.”

I take a step closer to her. And then another. And another.

There’s still space between us, but I’m closing it more and more with every step I take toward her.

“I didn’t want to kiss you,” Camille responds.

Her voice doesn’t have the same edge as it did just moments ago.

In fact, the softness and hurriedness to her words almost made it seem like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.

Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she stares back at me.

“Lie to my face again,” I demand, coming to a stop in front of her. “Except this time, make it more convincing. You don’t even sound like you believe it.”

Her eyes flash with anger.

I smile.

It’s fun to rile her up. To give her a taste of how she makes me feel.

She shakes her head before letting out a soft little yelp when her shoulders collide with the bedroom wall. She’s backed up too far, leaving her nowhere to go.

“I didn’t want to kiss you,” she repeats, trying her hardest to make it sound believable.

It doesn’t work. Her words are weak and futile.

She can’t even look me in the eye when she says them.

Instead, her focus is on my lips. “I don’t want to kiss you,” she adds, this time her voice barely above a whisper.

I can’t help but smirk. I know I should leave this room and leave her alone completely. It’d probably be better for both of us if I just left. I don’t know what I’m trying to prove right now, but I can’t stop.

“Try again.” I take another step closer to her, making it so we’re almost chest to chest.

“What makes you think I’d ever want to kiss you again?” she asks, lifting her chin and looking me square in the eye.

I don’t answer for a moment. Instead, I think back to just minutes ago when we were sitting by the pool.

I know we were having a moment. I felt it, and I can’t imagine she didn’t feel it too.

When I leaned in to kiss her, her lips had parted, and her breathing had picked up.

She stared at my mouth and wetted her lips, all the while leaning in closer to me.

“For one,” I begin, feeling bold enough to reach out and press my thumb to her bottom lip, “you can’t stop staring at my mouth.”

She allows me to swipe the pad of my thumb along her plump bottom lip a few times before she pushes my hand away. “I’m only staring at that smug grin of yours and dreaming of slapping it away.”

I laugh. “You can get rid of it by kissing me instead.”

She scoffs before her gaze flicks to the small amount of space between our bodies. It isn’t much. If either one of us takes too deep of an inhale at the same time, our chests will brush against one another.

“Are you that dense? Didn’t you go to expensive schools and receive the best education money can buy? What do you not understand about me saying I don’t want to kiss you? Not even a little bit.”

I pull my gaze from hers and tilt my head to her chest. “Your nipples are getting harder with each passing second, princess.”

“It’s cold,” she immediately responds.

I laugh at the raspiness of her voice. It’s getting more sultry, telling me exactly what I want to know.

“Whatever you say,” I respond. I don’t know if it’s the realization that this might be my one shot at getting her to admit to both of us that she wants this or something else, but something gives me the nerve to take a step closer to her.

My front presses against hers, and I brace myself for her to push me away. If she gives any indication that she doesn’t want me this close, I’ll immediately back up.

She doesn’t.

Her hands fall to my chest, and to my surprise, and maybe even hers, judging by the soft gasp that escapes her lips, her fingers fist at the fabric of my shirt. They stay there. She doesn’t push me away, but she doesn’t pull me in either.

My heart hammers against my chest. I know what I’m about to do is stupid. I know she’s going to push me away after doing it, but at this very moment, I can’t bring myself to care.

“Hey, Camille?” I ask, my voice tight and hoarse.

“What?” she whispers.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

“Want what?”

“This.”

And before either one of us can say anything else, I grab the back of her neck and yank her face to mine. All of the fighting and hot and cold of the last few weeks feels worth it the moment my lips crash against hers.