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Chapter Forty-Three

Austen

I’m woken up by the scent of bacon.

My cock twitches, and I know I need to piss, but I’m also a little sore in… certain places.

Rubbing my eyes, I grab for my phone, noticing it’s near ten a.m. Fuck, I slept like the dead after…

My cheeks flush as I remember exactly why I am sore, and who’s responsible for it.

The memories fill me with warmth as they resurface.

I could feel him everywhere.

His fingers in my hair, his mouth slowly moving against my own.

His dick pushing inside me. Stretching me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was so much better than I could have imagined. The pain, the pleasure. I never knew both could co-exist like that.

His grip on my hips, his racing heartbeat beneath my palm. My fingers in his hair.

The heavy beat of my heart as he breathed my name.

I’ve never felt more loved in a single breath, than I felt last night.

So that ’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Fuck.

My cheeks flush as I bury my face in my pillow and grin, taking a moment to just enjoy it.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Cameron is perfect.

I can’t stand needing to pee anymore, and I’m forced to go to the bathroom before I explode. I find a clean pair of underwear and put them on, only flinching a little bit when I lift my leg and put it through the hole, but I can’t stop smiling.

When I find my way into the kitchen, Cameron is microwaving a plate of bacon.

The horror.

“Good morning,” I say, stretching my arms over my head.

“Morning,” he says as he sets the plate down on the table.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“What’s it look like? Making breakfast.”

I smirk at him. “A plate of microwaved bacon is not a breakfast.”

He scoffs at me. “Just for that, you don’t get any.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I head for the fridge. “Move it.”

He takes his plate of bacon and moves over, but not far. His hip brushes against mine, and I feel his eyes on me, hot like fire. Checking me out, appreciating the view.

I love it.

Within minutes I’m whipping up a fresh batch of peanut butter and chocolate chip pancakes.

“Any plans today?” he asks, his voice careful. I see him looking at me still, his shoulders tense. I don’t miss the way his gaze flashes to my ass.

“Nope. Forecast says it’s going to storm, so I figured we could cuddle in bed all day and fuck,” I say with a laugh as I flip the pancakes. “Watch some movies in between. You know, Netflix and Chill or whatever.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You kill me, Austen, you know that?”

I wasn’t joking, but whatever.

“I’ll make sure to engrave that on your tombstone,” I tease.

I finish up with my pancakes and plate them up, taking a seat at the island.

He eyes my pancakes, and I sigh. I push the plate towards him. “Trade you a pancake for a piece of bacon?”

Cam smiles, holding out a piece for me. I bite it out of his hand and he rolls his eyes.

The rest of the morning is like that, just us relaxing, watching movies. When it gets dark outside, I light all four of the candles Cam owns and spread them throughout the living room as Cam puts on Titanic , and then I grab my sketchpad.

“What, you gonna draw me like one of your French girls, Jack?”

“Maybe,” I tease him. I have some ideas for Ari that I’ve been meaning to get to, and with the rain, the candles… yeah, this is my favorite kind of atmosphere for drawing. All I’m missing is a glass of wine.

I get two strokes of my pencil out before he grabs the sketchpad out of my hand.

“I believe you still owe me,” he says with a grin.

“Huh?”

“I never got to draw you,” he says simply. “Back in college, remember?”

I recall the memory. After all, that was nearly seven years ago, before we…

Before Vegas.

Before I got married.

Before I lost my best friend and myself.

Before I found love in the place I least expected it.

“I guess you’re right,” I say, running my hand through my hair. He flips the sketchpad to a clean page, glancing up at me from over it.

I can’t help but wonder how I’d react if this were Savannah. If she had grabbed the pad from my hands… I wouldn’t be happy. In fact, I’d be angry. That tells me all I need to know about my marriage, and about her. It tells me I’m in the right place now. If only I could stay and completely avoid that life back home. Is there a way to do that? Can I make this work forever? I have to try.

“So, uh, how do I pose?” I ask, trying to hold in my laughter as I make a show of leaning against the couch dramatically. “Like this?” I arch my back, extend one leg out and lean one arm behind my head like I’ve seen models do on the covers of magazines.

“First off, we need to get you out of those clothes,” he says, his gaze full of mischief.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” I say, removing my underwear in a flash.

“Mhmm. Good start. Now…” He twists his lips. “Lay on your stomach. Elbows in like this…”

He models the pose for me, and I do as he says.

“You can’t even see my dick,” I say sarcastically.

“Nope, but I can see your fine ass,” he teases as thunder rolls in the distance.

“Okay, turn your head to the right a little bit,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of his coffee table. “Hold your head right there.” I do as he says, but my neck starts to get stiff.

“Can I move yet?” I ask.

“Not yet,” he says, licking his lips.

I try to be still, but being stared at like this… it’s kind of a turn on, if I’m being honest.

My cock twitches beneath me and I have to shift to get comfortable.

“Okay, done,” he says, turning the pad around, and I have to suck in a breath because—fuck.

It’s good.

Like really good. Better than he used to draw in college, that’s for sure.

“That’s… that’s really good, Cam.”

“I know,” he says, flipping it around and signing his name in the corner. “Still got it.”

After he’s done, he jacks me off and does that thing with my prostate that has me coming within seconds, which makes me feel so relaxed I think I could pass out and then we finally shower, where I make him come in my mouth.

By the time we’re fully dressed in our sweats, it’s near four p.m. The Chinese take out Cam ordered arrives just as the ending plays for Titanic and Celine’s vocals fill the room as the credits roll.

“What should we watch next?” he asks as he settles on the couch next to me, handing me my takeout container of Chinese food.

“You pick. I picked the last one.”

He grabs a plastic fork full of noodles, then nods.

“I think I have just the thing,” he says. “Hold on a second.”

I stuff my own forkful of noodles into my mouth, getting comfortable. I tuck my bare feet beneath me and sit up straighter.

Cam grabs his phone, linking up with his television, which comes up as Express .

“And one more second,” he says, as the screen flashes black. He sets his phone down, sliding his arm around me as he turns to me with a grin.

I don’t have the faintest clue what he plans to show me that’s on his phone and not on Netflix or another platform. Maybe he found some stupid old videos of us?

I barely notice the screen until I hear the sound coming from it.

“They’re kissing right now,” a deep male voice says. One I don’t recognize, so I look up and—

Cameron yells, “Fuck!”

My blood runs cold as I process what’s on the screen. Or more specifically, my wife, who is kissing someone. Someone who is not me.

Cam fumbles with his phone, swearing as I realize three things.

One, the dress Savannah is wearing is the one she bought for her trip to California.

The same trip where she told me she saw Cam on a date with a guy.

Two, my wife is cheating on me.

Three, Cameron knew about this.

For the last month, he knew my wife was cheating on me, and he said nothing. Not a single fucking word. He had this secret and he kept it from me. One that is so… big.

Panic swells within me, and I can’t breathe.

He knew when I showed up that night, after my fight with Savannah. He knew, and he didn’t tell me.

His voice is far away even though he’s right next to me. The TV screen goes black, but the damage is done.

All this time, he knew and he didn’t say a fucking word. Every kiss, every touch, every fuck…

My eyes close as the last eleven days replay like a movie in my head.

My eyes water as my stomach flips and my throat tightens.

I’m such a fucking fool. To think I could trust him, that I could trust anyone…

His hands grasp me, snapping me out of my haze. I push him away.

“Austen…”

“Don’t touch me,” I say, my voice cracking. I don’t miss the tears in his eyes from my rejection.

The worst part is my body aches for his arms, even now. To soothe the burn. To hug me and tell me it’ll be okay. Because he’s the only one who ever makes me feel better.

But he’s the one who caused the pain this time.

He lied to me.

How could he lie to me?

“Austen, please…”

I grab my sketchpad, shove the pain down in my stomach, because it wants to consume me.

The memories replay over and over. His hands in my hair, his tongue in my mouth. His smile in the morning.

He told me he loved me. But you don’t lie to the people you love.

Never in my life did I think Cameron was capable of lying to me. Not about something like this.

I walk down the hall to his bedroom, and I don’t say a word. I can’t. If I open my mouth, I’m going to throw up or cry. Maybe both.

His footsteps echo behind me, but they are white noise.

“Just let me explain,” he begs.

The bed stares at me like a siren, blaring with my infidelities and his lies. The memory of last night pushes through, making me choke on a sob.

I gave him my heart, my body and my stupid fucking dreams.

Was he ever going to tell me? Or was he just going to let me go home to my cheating wife like nothing ever happened, like a fucking idiot? Was he waiting to throw this in my face when we had the conversation about me going home? Because that conversation was bound to happen at some point. Why else would he keep this from me? It’s obvious he was holding onto it like a weapon. He’s always hated Savannah and throwing this in my face at the perfect time would be so gratifying for him.

I grab my suitcase, gripping it with my fists as I try to focus on breathing.

It takes everything in me to put my mask on. I’d become so accustomed to not wearing it, because I felt safe here. With him.

Because I love him.

I trusted him.

I trusted him more than anyone.

Clearly, I can’t trust anyone anymore.