Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I hesitate, my mind racing. My answer to this question is really fucking important. It’s going to determine whether or not she gives me another chance. I really want another chance. But I won’t lie to her.
“I think you and I could be important to each other. I want to be there for you and Sam and Tate.”
She sips from her glass, tucking hair behind one ear. “There’s a brick wall between us. You realize that, don’t you?”
I shake my head, aggravated. “Not at all. I feel like you think anything less than me dropping down to a knee on the first date and proposing is a no from you. Be fair, for fuck’s sake. I wouldn’t fuck around on you.”
She laughs. “Do you hear yourself? Imagine if I said yes to this, and someday you were introducing me to someone. Like, ‘This is Cam, she’s important to me and I don’t fuck around on her.’ Come on.”
“Jesus fuck.” I turn around, running a hand through my hair. Why are you so all or nothing? You want me to open a vein for you? Blow my fucking brains out over you like my dad did over my mom?”
I close my eyes and put my hands on the counter, leaning on it. I can’t believe I just said that. It wasn’t something I even thought about beforehand; it just came out. I think Cam is just as shocked as I am.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
I hang my head, taking a few deep breaths before I turn to face her. I should say something. Her eyes are swimming with emotions, glassy with unshed tears.
Part of me wants to get the fuck out of here. To escape. To go anywhere but here, where the one person who now knows my deepest fear is looking right at me--through me. She can see all of it now: the good, the bad and the shameful ugly.
But when she steps closer to me, I can’t make my feet move in the opposite direction. She quickly closes the gap that separates us, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing herself against me, her cheek against my chest.
I hold on to her, my cheek on top of her head as a few tears fall into her hair. The deaths of my parents had a profound effect on me, but until a few seconds ago, I truly never made the connection. Losing them is why I’m afraid of commitment. The realization is staggering.
Cam lifts her head, forcing me to lift mine. She looks up at me and reaches a thumb up, swiping the wetness from my cheeks. Then she stretches up and brings her lips to mine.
She kisses me tentatively for a second, testing me. I cup her face and deepen the kiss, my heart beating rapid-fire as I back her up to the counter. My mouth lays claim to hers, unable to kiss her tenderly.
I bend slightly and lift her onto it. She wraps her legs around my waist and puts her arms around my neck, her nails grazing over my scalp as she runs her fingers through my hair.
Fuck, it feels amazing. Her touch, her smell, her taste. I can’t get enough.
I move my mouth to her jawline, her exhale hot on my skin as I kiss her there. She pulls up my shirt, her nails gently raking over my back and setting me on fire. I put my forearms beneath her knees, pulling her body against mine so she feels my cock against her slit.
She gasps, her nails sinking deeper into my back.
“I want you.” She says it in my ear, her tone low and desperate. “I want you right now.”
My cock aches at the sound of her words. I haven’t had sex in a long time, and I’ve fantasized about hearing those words from her countless times. This frenzied, spur-of-the-moment chance to take her to bed might be the only chance I get.
I scoop her from the counter with one arm beneath her ass, remembering where her bedroom is from when I helped her move. Once there, I put a knee on the bed, Cam still wrapped around me.
She slowly lets go of my neck, her eyes wide and pooled with lust as she looks up at me. When she grabs the bottom of her shirt and wiggles her way out of it, pulling it off and over her head, I’m the one who gasps.
“Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”
In the dim evening light, with her honey-brown hair spread over the pillow, her breasts rising and falling in the silky black cups of her bra, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Perfect.
Too good for me. It hurts like a physical blow. I’m a fucked-up mess over my parents’ deaths, even after more than a decade. She said she wants a fairy tale, and I’m the opposite.