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Chapter Thirty-Five

Austen

Warmth surrounds me like a fire as I breathe in the scent of sandalwood. My hand slides over a sliver of exposed skin, hard and smooth beneath my palm. His shirt collar brushes against the edge of my lips. I don’t want to move, afraid that when I open my eyes, it’ll all disappear. Again.

But I open them anyway, because I need to know this is real and I’m not imagining it.

I push away from his neck lightly, not wanting to wake him because for one, he looks content as hell, but also because…

He stirs, and I silently curse myself for waking him up. His eyes open wide when he sees me and his entire body stiffens, and I flinch at his reaction. I know what he must be thinking. What he’s waiting for.

Shit, I don’t blame him. The last time we were here, like this… I fucked up. But not this time. This time, I know what to expect.

My hand rests on his chest and I don’t move it. Not at first. I let it sit there, lightly squeezing the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” I say, my voice soft, still tinged with sleep. He doesn’t speak, just stares at me with stormy grey eyes that remind me of relaxing thunderstorms.

Like that perfect haze that settles right before it rains.

My gaze holds his as I release his shirt, sliding my hand up his chest, to his neck as my heartbeat beats so fucking loud, I swear it’s echoing in the space around us.

I let my fingers travel over the side of his neck, feeling the hitch in his pulse as I do so. My thumb brushes over his throat, and I don’t miss the intake of his breath. Even after all these years, his response to me touching him hasn’t changed. The last time I did this, I was drunk and therefore I couldn’t appreciate it fully. I knew I liked the way he responded to my touch then, knew that I liked touching him more than I should have. But everything was so rushed, so fast…

My gaze dips to his mouth and his lips part just the slightest.

“Hey,” he whispers, and I can tell he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for me to hurt him.

But I’m not the stupid twenty-one year- old kid who was scared he was going to lose everything, anymore.

Cam’s leg slides between mine and I shift myself closer to him as I let my fingers slide through his hair.

I don’t think twice about pulling him closer and kissing him. His entire body tenses, and I think maybe he’s going to push me away. That I’m being too forward, too clingy, too needy. Anxiety swells within me because I’m suddenly worried that I’ve fucked up again and—

Cam’s mouth moves slowly against mine as he kisses me back, his hand sliding across my hip.

A deep groan escapes my throat when he slips his tongue in my mouth, his fingers digging into my hip through my shirt. I don’t stifle my groan because I need him to know how much I like this. I need him to know how much I like kissing him.

And I really, really like it.

Over the last seven years, and even before that, there wasn’t a single man I was attracted to. It’s only Cam who does this to me.

My cock jumps in agreement, which pulls me back to the here and now, and I break our kiss, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” I say as I slide my hand between us, adjusting myself.

Cam chuckles. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he says, his voice smooth and warm.

My cock throbs in my hand as his words settle, as I remember all the times I apologized to my wife because I woke up hard and wanted to get off but couldn’t—not with her. It’s why I started getting up before Savannah to shower and take care of business so she wouldn’t get annoyed.

Because I was too needy.

Nothing to be sorry about.

Just before I open my mouth, I feel the slightest twitch against the back of my hand. My heartbeat quickens. I can still remember exactly what his cock felt like, sliding against my own which doesn’t help my situation one bit. He raises an eyebrow at me, a smirk playing at his kiss-swollen lips.

God, he’s so fucking pretty first thing in the morning.

I know I need to get up and take a piss, and I need to eat, but… the idea of staying in this bed with him is really fucking tempting.

As if on cue, my stomach growls.

“I hope you have food in your fridge, this time,” I say as I regrettably leave the warm, cozy bed.

“Mhmm.” I can feel his eyes on me, hot like a fire. I grin as I head to the bathroom to do my business.

Usually I like to shower first, but I’m starving. So I make my way into Cam’s kitchen and open the fridge.

It’s more stocked than it was last time and I grin. I take my time pulling out items—eggs, bacon, vegetables, and fruit.

I set about gathering all my equipment and start chopping away at the peppers and green onions first, separating the whites from the greens. Cam approaches me slowly.

“I know it’s afternoon, but brunch sounds good, right?” I ask, casting him a smile. His grey eyes stare at me and he doesn’t speak, just watches me intently.

“What?” I ask, spinning around in the space. “Did I get something on me or—”

Cam smirks. “Nope.” The corners of his eyes turn up as he grins. “Just appreciating the view.”

The flush in my cheeks should make me feel more than embarrassed. Am I that easy? Yes.

Yes, I fucking am. But it’s not about the words, it’s the way he’s looking at me.

Like I’m a brunch buffet in borrowed sweatpants and a t-shirt a little too small for me with fucking bedhead and tear-stained cheeks.

The bacon starts to sizzle and I head back to the task at hand. I’m far too easily distracted this morning.

We silently go about working together, me on the stove, Cam making coffee and putting on a movie in the background. The Sandlot.

“Got any plans today?” I ask as I serve him his omelet with fruit. He stabs a piece with his fork, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not really.”

“What do you normally do between gigs?” I ask, curious. When he’d joined me to see Cirque, I was surprised he said he hadn’t seen it before. I thought after living in New York for five years, he would’ve done all the touristy stuff.

I notice the way his shoulders tense, and the smile falls from his face.

“Nothing,” he says, but I know it’s a lie. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to tell me. Part of me wants to press him, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

Savannah told me she saw him in California, out on a date with some guy who was stacked and built like a fucking brick house.

At the time, I wasn’t sure how to take such information, being as Savannah’s never been his biggest fan, but…

I wanted Cam to find someone good. Someone stable, who could take care of him in the ways he needs.

But I also hated knowing he was out with someone else. Because it isn’t me.

The thought makes me tense, but I push it aside. I don’t want to think about Cameron with other people.

“I don’t have to meet with Margo until tomorrow,” I say carefully.

I should just leave and check into my hotel early, maybe grab my sketchpad and see if I can get some work done. But something tells me leaving isn’t really what I should do, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted to.

“Okay,” he says.

“Maybe… we could check out Times Square? Hit up the wax museum? Oh, maybe Rockefeller Center?”

Cam smiles and it makes my insides warm. “Sure.”

I move to collect his plate and he doesn’t fight me. Just sits there, watching me.

“I need to grab my suitcase,” I say, realizing if I am indeed going to shower, I need my clothes. Not that I mind wearing Cam’s sweats, but his shirts are too small for me. I’m no body builder, but I’ve added more muscle since we were younger, and as such I’ve gone up a few shirt sizes in the span of seven years.

“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll grab it. Give me your keys,” he says.

“Oh, no it’s fine, I—”

“Give. Me. Your keys.” His voice is stern, commanding, and fuck if every bone in my body doesn’t react like a tuning fork.

Including my stupid cock.

I blink, trying to hit the reset button on my damn brain.

“I think I left them on the coffee table,” I say too quickly, trying to cover up the cracking in my voice. Cam shoots me a grin.

“Go.” He gestures to the bathroom. “I’ll have your stuff up here when you get out,” he says.

I nod, my stupid cock once again in agreement. Yes, shower, that’s what we need.

So that’s what I do.

I turn around and head down the hall for the bathroom, hoping the hot water will be just what I need.