Page 50

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Brady

Last night was the worst way to end a night.

Not because of what happened but because of the plans I made for this morning. I had to keep giving my dick a stern talking to. On the football field with a guy I only just met was not the time to get a hard-on, but all I could think about was the way she felt.

The sounds she made.

Her ass cheeks and the way they promised to swallow my cock between them, those pretty, perfect nipples when she tossed my shirt over her head.

At first, I almost pouted—I’ve become a bit obsessed with seeing her in my clothes to the point where I’m tempted to fill her dorm closet with more when we get back. But then.

She smirked down at me from the spot that is now officially hers—my lap—and turned into a little devil. God, the way I want to learn every part of her. She’s fucking exquisite when she comes. I can’t even imagine what she’d look like if it were my cock she creamed all over.

I hated leaving her in the bed this morning. I can’t fucking wait to look her in the eye, knowing exactly what I’ll be thinking the moment are gazes meet.

What would she do if I bent down and kissed her for my mom and dad to see? A silent claim is what I want to make. Like a kid on show-and-tell day, I want to brag and be like look at what I got, a one-of-a-kind woman to call my own .

I need to talk to her, tell her where my head is at. It’s the right thing to do.

I need to know where the pretending begins and ends before she becomes even more than my first and last thought each day. Because she is.

I don’t know when it happened, but it did. In fact, it might have always been there, far back in my mind, waiting for the time to come forward.

Cameron’s the snow and I’m the sleigh—I only make sense with her.

I’m the leather, and she’s the lace; we fit to form the perfect union.

I’m going to talk to her and tell her I love her.

Alister’s words hit me cold in the chest, and my hand freezes on the door handle to my childhood home.

Shit.

Fuck.

He’s going to tell her how he feels.

He’s going to tell her how he feels, and she’s going to listen with rapt attention because, at the end of the day, all she’s been searching for in this little lie of ours is a soft landing on a bed of truths.

Trust and tenderness.

She was waiting for her mind to clear so she could come to terms with how she feels under the pain and anger, and it’s easy to see there are no longer any clouds hanging over her head. No, the sky is clear and blue now.

She said it herself—she no longer thinks he intended to hurt her.

But he’s not ready for a girl like her. She needs a man with confidence and a secure hand to hold.

I want to be that man.

I want to hold her hand in public, and I want to mean it. I want to kiss her when no one is watching and give her more than I’ve ever given anyone .

I want to take her like I’ve taken no other, giving her a part of me no one else has ever had.

I want her to be my first.

“Bro, whoa, slow the fuck down,” I mumble, letting go of the door handle and running my hand through my hair.

But I can’t. Last night changed things. She didn’t try to hide her desire—she leaned into it, crawled on my lap like she’s done a hundred times, but without an ounce of the innocence the move has held in the past. No, she knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t shy about taking it.

And fuck me, I was ready to give.

I’ve never ever wanted to say fuck it so bad in my life and just roll on top of her.

She was sweet and soft and delicious.

She sounded like sin and she tasted like mine.

Goddamn it.

I sigh, shaking my head.

“What are you hiding from, Son?”

My eyes fly open, and I spin around, spotting my dad coming up the walkway. There must be a question on my face because he hooks his thumb over his shoulder.

“I was having coffee with Bill.” He points to where Chase’s dad waves from his porch. “Poor guy’s got a lot to work out.”

I lift a hand and wave back, watching as he disappears inside. “What do you mean?”

My dad presses his lips together. “Let’s not get distracted, hmm?” He comes up and grips my shoulder. “You got a lot on your mind,” he says, reading me as he’s always been able to.

I nod, looking across the yard toward Cameron’s childhood bedroom window. “She, uh, snuck up on me.”

“The good ones always do.”

Tension tugs in my stomach, and my hazel eyes lock on my father’s blue ones. “What if she doesn’t understand?” I don’t have to break it down—my parents know what I want out of life .

“Come on now,” he begins, opening the front door and easing me inside. We pause in the entryway, our eyes called to the back sliding door. The curtains are tied back, Cameron and my mama sitting there in the early morning sun, blankets wrapped around them both.

Cameron says something, and I can only imagine what it was as, in the next second, my mom leans forward to smack her on the knee.

Cameron throws her head back and laughs, coffee cup cradled in her hands. They just look so right sitting there together. They fit.

We fit.

My dad’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and he gives a little squeeze. “That look like a girl who won’t understand?”

There’s a little thump in my chest because no, it doesn’t.

She looks like an angel of chaos who wants all my secrets.

Could I tell her? Fillet myself open and let her watch me bleed, the confident, easygoing man she knows me to be turning into a poster child for insecurity right before her eyes?

When she shared with me on the rooftop barn, I almost jumped in and told her, and then last night, I felt compelled to give her a little more, but that conversation was quickly glossed over. For my benefit, of course, because the girl knows me better than any other.

She saw me struggling and gave me an out, which I eagerly took. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have just broke things down for her, filled in all the blanks and shared that the future she’s considering for herself is not that far off from the one I want for myself.

No—not want but refuse to give up .

There’s a make or break for me, but it’s that break part that I’m afraid of.

Still, when I look at her, I wonder if it would have to come to that .

Cameron looks up then, sticking her sock-covered foot out to nudge my mom. They both smile this way, and my low chuckle matches my dad’s.

“Looks like we’re caught.” With one last squeeze, my dad nudges his head in their direction. “Come on. Come sit with your mama for a few minutes before you have to go.”

Nodding, I follow a step behind him, a strange turning in my stomach I’ve never felt when it came to Cameron before but recognize as fear.

Will she blush and avoid my eyes, saying without words that something deeper happened between us last night?

Will she excuse herself and go back inside, giving some explanation that says just as much as her blush would?

I don’t have time to work through any more theories, my dad already stepping out, so there’s nothing for me to do but follow.

He moves over to my mom while I drop beside Cameron, and we look at each other at the same moment.

She smiles brightly, shifting on the cushion to face me better. “How’d it go?”

It’s the perfect reaction, not a single sign that she regrets last night, just fully focused on how my training session went this morning.

As irrational as it is, it pisses me off.

How can she smile at me like it’s any other day? Like she didn’t have my dick in her hands last night? Like I didn’t feel the heat between her legs?

Like she didn’t come with those big blue eyes locked on mine?

She’s acting like nothing happened, like it’s all forgotten, so small of an event that she’s completely unfazed by the sight of me when I’ve been burning at the thought of her all morning, waiting for this moment.

Cameron isn’t the one who gets up and makes some excuse to get away.

I am .

Cameron

He’s totally freaking out. Like epically.

I’m not sure what I expected, but based on how annoyed I am right now, clearly it wasn’t that. I’m not even sad.

I’m just straight-up pissed.

This is Brady. Proud playboy with an entire fan base who have named themselves.

For years now, I’ve watched him with other women.

He’s the approachable one, the funny guy who is always laughing but never at another’s expense.

He’s built like a god without the complex.

I mean, he knows he’s fine, but he’s not a dick about it.

There’s just an air about him that tells you you’re safe with him, and that goes a long way for a single girl looking to get hers.

And from what I hear, the man is a giver.

Right now, all he’s giving me is rage-y thoughts.

The man is king of casual hookups, and while we might not fit into the casual category, what happened last night wasn’t even a full-fledged hookup.

If I were a baseball fan, I’d say we slid into third base and the coach started raging because all Brady had to do was round that sucker to hit a home run. The ball was already over the fence.

I wanted it, pretty sure he wanted it, but the man didn’t take it.

Why?

Because we had no condom?

Because he didn’t want to take things between us that far?

Yet?

I don’t know, but I’m not about to make his mama worry just before we take off, so I smile and sit back, bringing my mug to my lips. “My guess is he just realized he forgot to bring me a coffee home and now he’s in big trouble.”

Tisha laughs loudly, smacking her husband’s thigh, buying my little white lie. “Oh, man, Ben has done that many times. Usually, it’s the one ingredient I sent him for, and he has to go right back.” She shakes her head, drinking her latte in oblivious bliss. “Men, I swear.”

I peek at Ben, and he winks at me, tipping his chin in a grateful manner. Clearly, Brady talked to his dad about something, but I guarantee he didn’t mention our little third-down pass.