Page 23

TWENTY-THREE

lenni

I should be happy; I had Cam all wrong. He’s not an asshole. But I think maybe I am.

I always thought if I found a guy who worked for my trust, I’d trust him. Simple as that. And here he is, doing his part. Why can’t I do mine? Why is the strongest part of me urging me to run away, ignore my feelings for him, never see him again?

“You know what I like about you?” I ask as we walk slowly up the street and the music from the party fades away. “That you say what’s on your mind. I can ask you a question and I know I’ll get a real answer.”

“Would you be insulted if I suggested you try it sometime?” He gives me a little smile.

“I’m going to. I promise.” I reach for his hand because I don’t like the distance between us. “But I need to know what you want from me.”

He looks over at me, surprised. “A chance to be with you. That’s all. What do you want?”

“I want the same thing,” I say, caught in his eyes. “I’m just trying to understand you and what you expect from this.”

“I don’t have any expectations. Except that you try to trust me. What do you need to know about me, Lenni?”

I don’t know where to begin so I pick the thing that shouldn’t be an issue but is. “You never told me what happened between you and Kira.”

He huffs out a breath. “Relationship ran its course.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Every relationship gets to that point where you’ve gotten everything out of it you’re going to get. You know?”

“I’ve never had a relationship.”

I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look. “I like being with girls who are clear about what they want from me, and that was Kir. But once that part is fulfilled, there’s not much left.”

“What did she want from you?”

“Kira likes status. And appearances.”

“And what did you get out of it?”

“Someone to be with. She’s low drama. She did her thing and let me do mine. And I guess she looked the part. Maybe winning her when she wouldn’t even speak to other guys I knew was kind of an ego stroke.”

I have nothing to say to this. I guess he’s honest, at least.

“No, I’m not explaining this right.” He scrubs a hand over his face and tries again. “I know how it sounds, but it was more than that. We had a good time together. It’s not some great love story, but it was what we both wanted. No one was being used, at least not without their consent.”

We stop at an intersection and wait for the light to change.

He turns to me. “But what I had with her has nothing to do with you and me. I couldn’t handle anything too real back then. Now I want more than that.”

My whole body tightens. He’s inches away, and I’m afraid to breathe, afraid of where one false move might land me. “Why?”

His eyes roam my face. “Because I know this girl. And when I’m around her, I realize that all the bullshit I’ve heard my whole life about following your heart isn’t bullshit after all.”

My heart skips a beat. I search his eyes for some sign of doubt, but it’s not there. It comes to me now, a brief flash of clarity, what the word “real” means when he looks at me. Alive. Free. Already stumbling down the path toward something I’ve tried so long to stop wanting. I try to smile but feel unexpectedly choked by emotion. I nod and reach for him, hoping my touch might say what my mouth can’t seem to. Cam accepts my awkwardness and drapes an arm around me.

The light changes and he takes my hand as we cross. On the other side of the street, he looks over at me, a playful smile on his face. “By the way, a dog on a leash? What was that about?”

Ugh. I did say that, didn’t I? “You know, ’cause you dragged me across the street? Like a dog being dragged into a kennel. Or the vet’s office or whatever.” I ignore his laugh. “It made sense in my head.”

“Damn, I better alert the animal shelter to put you on the blacklist for adoptions.”

“So where are you dragging me now?”

“I’m just walking. Where do you want to go?”

He looks at me, letting me take him in—the wide, almond-shaped eyes turned up at their corners, the sharp cut of his cheekbones and his jawline making his bone structure an honest-to-god work of art, those lips that, even when I was busy hating him, I vowed to kiss one more time before I died. Desire curls inside my stomach.

“Home.”

At my front door, I fumble with my keys while he leans against the doorframe and watches me. His stance is powerful and sure and reminds me that while I’m tall, he’s much taller. In my apartment, we linger just inside the door. Cam trains that potent gaze on me, and I know he wants to say something, but instead he kisses me. I breathe him in as his lips close on mine. He’s slow and careful when he backs me up against the door, and I’m completely under his spell, moving only in response to him. I want to let go. I want to just be. But something inside me is locked up tight.

“I want you so much,” Cam whispers. “I want us.”

This soft, sweet confession reaches straight down into my heart, and I pull back, overcome.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That was too much.”

I shake my head. “I want us too. I’m just . . . scared.”

He studies me, a faint line creasing his forehead. “What happened to you, Lenni?” His voice is so gentle, there’s no mistaking what he’s asking. It wasn’t the question I was expecting, and definitely not the one I want to answer. But I need him to know.

Gently, I push him away, trying to shake off the kiss and the heady effect of his words. He’s silent as I walk into the kitchen to get us some water and then settle on the couch.

“Before I tell you,” I say, “promise you won’t start babying me.”

“Babying you? I’m not going to change how I treat you. I just want to know where you’re coming from.”

I nod. I don’t have much practice telling this story, but I’ve thought about it enough times to know exactly how to make it succinct and low drama. “I was chubby when you met me, but that was after losing twenty or thirty pounds. I was fat in high school and had zero experience with guys. People said shitty things sometimes, but it wasn’t like I had this sad, miserable existence. I had friends, I had hobbies, I played soccer. Life was...fine, by high school standards, at least.

“But when I was sixteen, this really cute football player invited me to his house to study, and I didn’t even question it. Apparently, I was not just overconfident, I also never learned a thing from all those cheesy teen movies from the nineties.”

I try for a smile, but Cam looks back at me with a grave expression.

“You know, where the cool guy asks out the loser girl and it turns out to be a cruel joke?”

“I know them,” he says quietly.

Great, he’s pitying me already. I take a deep, steadying breath. I thought I knew how to tell this story. “Anyway, instead of studying, we drank; too much. And when he wanted me to, um...go down on him, I didn’t know how to say no. I’d never even kissed anyone before.”

Cam exhales loudly, his nostrils flaring.

“I found out later his teammate—my neighbor, actually—had dared him. I was a joke, and the whole school knew.” I leave out the cruel detail about the video because it’s salt in the wound, and I don’t think he can handle it anyway.

I don’t recognize the look on his face. I can feel the fury coming off him, can see it locked up tight inside the tense muscles in his arms and his curled fists. It should annoy me; I hate the macho shit. But something inside me breaks because I don’t think it’s macho bullshit. I think he hurts for me.

Cam lays his head back and looks up at the ceiling. His eyes squeeze shut.

I lay a hand on his arm. “I’m okay now, Cam.”

“No.” He sits up and looks at me. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to sit there reassuring me. I’m sorry.” He pulls in a deep breath and takes my hand in his, tracing my fingers with his other hand. “I don’t know what to say that you don’t already know. You didn’t deserve that.” He looks down at our hands. “No one does.”

I nod and we’re quiet for a moment.

“I admire you, Lenni,” Cam finally says. “The way you take what life hands out and keep on living.”

I shrug. “What other choice did I have?”

“Kill him.”

I roll my eyes, but Cam’s face is serious.

“Kill them both. Lie in bed every night thinking about how much you want to smash their fucking faces in.”

“Okay, that’s exactly what I don’t need. That’s why I don’t need you to keep Reeve away from me. I’ve dealt with assholes, and I can handle them.”

“I apologized for that, but I was just trying to protect you. You can’t expect me not to protect you.”

I pull my hands gently from his grasp. “Who told you I want to be protected?”

“You did.”

I shake my head. “Um, no, I didn’t.”

“The night we met. You told me every story you wrote had a strong, protective dude in it because you didn’t have that in real life. You said,” he recites, looking up like he’s replaying it in his head, “‘I never had a father or an older brother to make me feel safe. I always wanted to know how it felt.’ That’s what you said.”

I stare at him, heat crawling up my neck and onto my cheeks. I did say that. I haven’t thought about it in so long. It feels like a childish wish, some remnant of my broken upbringing that I’d rather forget. But he remembered. Emotion swells inside my chest. He was a stranger to me when I told him that, but I trusted him. Now that I know him, can I trust him again? I feel it like a living being, this trust I want so badly to place in his hands, this thing that’s been building between us that only grows stronger every time I try to reason it away. I lace my fingers through his, my heart beating wildly. I want to tell him how I feel, but I’m so bad at this. All I can manage to do is say his name and hope that he hears, Thank you and I’m sorry and everything else I don’t know how to say.

He looks at our linked hands and then at me. “Let me be the one to protect you, Lenni. Give me a chance to be the man you deserve.”

A sound like a cry escapes from my throat, but I’m not crying. I think instead I’m melting because this beautiful man is asking my permission to be everything I want him to be. Yup, definitely melting. “Okay,” I say.

I lean in and kiss him, the certainty in my lips making up for every hesitation in my brain. His kiss is soft for only a second before it turns rough, before he stops holding back. His tongue parts my lips. I open for him, sinking into his touch.

Strong hands pull me into his lap. All gentleness has left him. He grips my ass, pressing me to the hard thickness of his cock. Even through the barrier of my jeans, my clit pulses in response. I brace my hands against his chest, dizzy at the feel of this man that I’ve fought so hard not to want.

I kiss him harder, barely registering the pain of his teeth against my lips. He lets out a low, throaty chuckle. He knows how badly I want him, and I don’t care. It only turns me on more. I want to be naked, writhing against him, pinned under his weight, drowning in his scent.

His hands slide down to my waist and, for a second, he just holds them there, conforming them to my curves like he’s trying to memorize my shape. Then his fingers are at the hem of my shirt. He eases it over my head in a single, practiced move. My chest heaves in anticipation. His fingers move deftly at my back to unhook my bra, but when he takes the straps down, he moves achingly slowly; his fingertips graze my shoulders, my arms, leaving sparks of heat that radiate up and down my body. My nipples stiffen, standing at attention. His eyes are hungry as he peels the silky fabric away from my breasts.

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely, my bare breasts inches from his face. “You know how long I’ve waited for this?” The feral look in his eyes floods me with desire and a sense of power I’ve never felt before.

“How long?”

“Forever.” A tiny smile quirks his lips before he closes his mouth around my nipple.

I let out a moan, my back arching. My hips move involuntarily, grinding against him, seeking more. The wet heat of his mouth makes my breasts ache. I thread my fingers through his hair and urge him closer. I watch his perfect lips taking in my nipple. He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, the sound of him losing control.

He moves to my other breast, his hand taking the weight of the one he just left. He flicks his tongue against my nipple, sucks it into his mouth and lets it go, his teeth a faint but dizzying tease against my sensitive skin. My eyes flutter closed. I’m slowly losing my mind.

The fabric between us, once a delicious tease, now feels frustrating. I tug at his shirt, and he gives me what I want, pulling it over his head, then lays me down on the couch and slides off my jeans.

He looks me up and down, and a sudden shyness washes over me. I’m aware of the softness of my belly, of my muscular thighs. But Cam’s eyes are hazy with desire, his lips parted like he’s about to devour me. He meets my gaze and swallows hard. That’s all it takes. For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful. Perfect. Enough.

I reach for him, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down. My stomach flips at the outline of his swollen cock straining against the thin cotton of his boxer briefs. God, I want him.

I ease his underwear down and take him in. His cock is—what else?—perfect. I look up at him and close my fingers around his thick shaft.

His response is a slow, liquid smile. “Like it?”

I run my thumb over his velvety head. “Love it.”

He bends over me, easing me back onto the couch. His fingers hook inside my panties and pull them down, then toss them over his shoulder. “You’re so gorgeous, Lenni,” he whispers as he slides a finger between my legs, testing my wetness. Desire pulses inside my body. I have to concentrate on breathing.

“Hold on,” I say, mustering the last bit of good sense left in my brain and sitting up. Jade could walk in at any minute. “Let’s go to my room.” I get up and take his arm, pushing him toward my bedroom. “Be right there.”

In Jade’s room, I rifle through her bedside drawer until I find the condoms, then take a handful because I’m an optimist and hurry back to my bedroom. I freeze in the doorway when I see him.

Cam leans back against my headboard, his fist moving slowly up and down his cock. He looks at me through half-mast eyes, inviting me in, and my breath catches in my chest. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

I toss a condom at him. He catches it with one hand just before it hits his face; always an athlete. Then he smiles that cocky smile that has never not worked on me. My pulse beats hot. I’m done with foreplay, done with the teasing. I need him inside me.

His eyes take in my body greedily as I move for the bed. He grabs my arms and lays me down, positioning my body under his. I watch as he kneels between my legs and rolls on the condom.

Without warning, my doubts roar to life again. Does this really mean anything to him? He’s done it hundreds of times, but not me. And when I did, I had no expectations of what would happen when it was over. But with Cam, I couldn’t bear it if we were one and done.

He must feel my hesitation. His thumb brushes tenderly over my lip. “You want to do this?” he asks softly.

“I do.”

“But?”

I swallow. “But I don’t want our first time to be our last.”

“It won’t be. I could spend a thousand nights with you, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He lays a kiss on my lips, soft as a feather.

It’s not just about sex, we both know that. But this particular moment, his words and the ragged whisper they came in and the tease of his warm mouth set off something chemical in me. And this promise, which wasn’t a promise at all, is enough for me tonight. Turning back would be an act of self-inflicted torture.

I open my mouth, deepening the kiss. I nip at his lower lip and pull him down over me. He grunts. I spread my knees wider, and we break the kiss to watch as he teases the head of his cock against my clit. My body trembles, far beyond my control. My hips rise off the bed, searching for more pressure, more of his touch.

His muscles are tight as bows as he holds himself over me, his breaths deep and steadying. I can feel how hard he’s working to hold back. He wants to torture me. He pushes slowly inside me, making my breath hitch, then slides back out. Then again. Just enough to teach me how empty my body feels without him.

“Please,” I hear myself whimper.

He ignores my desperation, pumps inside me twice before easing back out. I don’t know if I love it or hate it.

Finally, he lowers his head to my breast. His lips close around my nipple at the same time he thrusts inside me, filling me completely and tearing a jagged cry from my lips.

I lock my legs around him, not letting him go. This time he doesn’t fight me. His hips find a deep, steady rhythm. Meanwhile, his tongue works my nipple in a rhythm all its own, hard and fast. God, yes. Now this is athletic talent. My nails press into the back of his neck, fingers twisted in his hair. I close my eyes, overcome by the frenzied sensations that wind me tighter and tighter.

When at last Cam pulls away from my breasts and comes up for air, his fingers find my clit. My body clenches around his length when his thumb makes contact; stroking, finding the perfect pressure, making my knees shake.

Tension ratchets higher inside me. My insides throb, aching for release. Cam’s breath comes faster. I can feel him beginning to come apart, and I’m right there with him. But neither one of us wants to let go.

His brow furrows. He thrusts deeply but there’s a desperation in his rhythm.

“Are you close?” he asks breathlessly. “I want to watch you come.” Every word sounds deliciously dirty.

“So close.” I’m right there, teetering on the edge. I just need a little more of him: his taste, his scent, his beauty. All of him around me.

I run my hands up his chest. His skin feels feverish. Drops of sweat leave glistening tracks along his temples, shoulders, his taut stomach. I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him close. I kiss him. I can barely breathe, but I can’t stop. The heat of his mouth moves down my throat and spreads through me like fire. Finally, I spill over the edge.

I see his face as I come, his endless amber eyes. Swells of hot pleasure tear through me. I think I say his name, but maybe it’s only in my head; Cameron . I want to possess him forever.

His fingers curl into my skin, bruisingly hard. His hips buck wildly as he loses control, roaring his pleasure. The sound is irresistible. I ride the wave with him until, slowly, the world around us fills back in.

There’s no sound except our mingled breaths and my own thundering heartbeat as his body stills around me. He exhales, breathing my name against my ear.

I wait for my old fears to spring up again as I come to my senses, but there’s nothing, only an unfamiliar feeling of contentedness. I don’t want anything more than this.