Authors: J. Lynn
His expression tensed. “Aw, man, that’s why you said you wanted to go there on the second. You were alone? Shit. I so feel—”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “You don’t need to feel terrible. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Cam watched me for a few more moments, expression sheltered. Finally, he said, “Well, there’s always next year.”
I smiled at that. Next year. Wow. Thinking that far in advance was a little scary and exciting.
After a little while, Cam scooped the turtle up and stood. “Be right back.”
While Cam took his pet back to his apartment, I rushed into the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth. I was done seconds before he came back. He pulled the wool sweater off, draping it over the back of the couch. The gray shirt that had been on underneath stretched over his broad chest and when he stretched before he sat down, the shirt rose, exposing a span of taut skin.
My heart rate kicked up as I watched him from the hallway. Cam and I kissed—a lot—and he liked to cuddle, so in a week, I’d grown use to him having his arms around me and his lips on mine, but we hadn’t done anything like we had Thanksgiving night, even though I imagined that he wanted to. So there was many nights I went to bed, thinking about him, and while I could get some relief from what was turning into a constant low simmering ache, it wasn’t enough.
He wanted me.
I wanted him.
We were together.
And I trusted him.
Biting down on my lip, I toyed with the edge of the sweater dress I wore. I’d taken off the boots and tights when we’d gotten back and now tiny bumps spread across my bare legs.
Was he waiting for me to make the first move? He seemed so… careful with me, as if he was worried that I’d run away from him. I wanted to run
to
him. Cam glanced over at me, brow raised. The room was dark with the exception of the glow from the TV. “You going to come over here or stare at me the rest of the evening?”
My cheeks flushed as I pushed away from the door. I could do this. I didn’t need to wait on him to make a move.
Gathering my courage, I walked over to him. He stared up at me with those extraordinary eyes as he lifted a hand. I placed mine in his, but instead of sitting beside him, I climbed into his lap, straddling him.
Cam immediately straightened, his hands flying to my hips. “Hey there, sweetheart.”
“Hey,” I replied, heart pounding so fast there was a good chance I was going to have a heart attack.
His gaze dipped, thick lashes shielding his eyes. “Did you miss me this much? I was only gone a few minutes?”
“Maybe.” I placed my hands on his shoulders as I lowered myself down. My grip tightened as I felt his arousal pressing against the softest part of me.
His hands traveled up my sides slowly, so slowly that I thought I would die by the time he cupped my cheeks. “What are you doing?”
I wetted my lips and his lashes lifted, revealing a deeper shade of blue. “What does it look like?”
“I can think of a few things.” His thumbs moved over my cheeks. “All of them have me extremely interested.”
“Interested?” My breaths were coming out fast and short. “That’s good.”
Then, because it seemed like he was letting me take the lead on this, I brought my head down to his. Our lips brushed once, twice, and then I pressed mine to his more firmly. He followed me, our kisses becoming deeper, slower, and infinitely more as his tongue tortured mine in a way that had me shaking and wanting so very much more.
His hands slid back down in a slow, languid pace, causing my back to arch into the movement. Even though the only experience I had with this was what we’d done Thanksgiving night, it seemed like my body knew what to do. I rocked my hips and his hands tightened on my waist. A shudder worked its way down his large body, and it was both a bit frightening and a lot exhilarating.
One of his hands balled in the material of my dress, inching it up my thighs. The other drifted back up, over my front and then across my breast. He cupped me, his thumb smoothing over the tip, teasing the hardening peak through the clothing. A moan rushed me and it came out, a sound that seemed to thrill Cam.
“You liked that?” he asked, his lips brushing mine.
Did he really need confirmation? “Yes.”
His thumb moved in a slow, tortuous circle over my tip. I tried to catch my breath as his lips left mine. He nipped at my chin and then down my neck. My back arched further, pushing my breast further into his hand as my hips rolled again. The sexiest sound rumbled from his chest as he leaned back and looked at me.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His hand moved to my other breast. “Anything. And I’ll do it.”
There was one thing I needed from him. “Touch me.”
Cam shuddered again, and the action made me hot. “May I?”
I nodded, having no idea what I was agreeing to, but I trusted him. Both of his hands were on my shoulders, sliding under the wide neckline of my dress. I stilled as he slipped the material down my shoulders, exposing my bra. He kept lowering the dress, until I could pull my arms free and the material bunched around my waist.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, trailing his fingers along the lacy edges of my bra. “Look at that blush. So fucking beautiful.”
My response was lost as he lowered his head, closing his mouth over the tip of my breast. Through the thin satin of my bra, his mouth worked me as he gripped my hips, pulling me against him harder.
My senses were overwhelmed from each hot pull of his mouth and the feel of him there, pressing against my core. My hands fluttered to his head as mine kicked back. He moved to my other nipple and a teasing bite had me crying out.
I was lost in him, surrounding to the feelings he was stirring inside me. I already felt close to toppling over the edge and when his hands dropped to my thighs, running up under the hem of my skirt, I tensed in the most wonderful way.
His lips scorched a path up my neck, teasing my lower lip. “Tell me something, sweetheart.” His hand moved to the inside of my thigh, making tiny circles that came close to my core. “Have you come before?”
My entire body flushed and when I didn’t answer, his hand moved further down my thigh, away from where I wanted him. Damn him. “Yes,” I whispered. “I have.”
“By yourself?” he asked, moving his hand back up my thigh.
I wiggled closer, and he groaned. Dropping my forehead to his, I closed my eyes. “Yes.”
As a reward for answering his question, one long finger skimmed over the center of my panties and my entire body jerked in response. The knot in my belly tightened and his finger trailed back and forth in a feather light touch that drove me crazy.
Desire clouded my thoughts, and I knew I wanted to make him feel what I was. I wasn’t completely oblivious on to the how to. I slid my hand down his chest, over his flat stomach. I hesitated at the band on his jeans.
Cam stilled and then nipped at my lip. “What do you want, Avery?”
“I want to… I want to touch you,” I admitted, surprising myself. “But I don’t know what you like.”
He made that sound again that had me trembling as he placed his other hand over mine. “Sweetheart, anything you do is something I’m going to like.”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, shifting back so that there was space between us. “Whatever you want to do to me, I’m going to love it. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Embolden by that statement, I flicked the button of his jeans open and then pulled down his zipper. Holy crap. I gasped at the sight of hard, pink flesh. No boxers. Nothing. Cam went commando.
Cam chuckled at my discovery. “Easy access.” And then he reached down, easing himself out.
I couldn’t help but stare and I felt like a goober for doing so, but there was something entirely hot about seeing him like this, knowing that he wanted me and I welcomed him. I hesitated though and while he said I could do anything and he would enjoy it, I doubted that and I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him feel good.
I watched his hand wrap around the base and stroke up. “I’ve thought about you,” I whispered.
His hand stilled. “How?”
“When I… touched myself, I thought of you.”
“Holy fuck,” Cam growled. “That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Cam kissed me then, harder and rougher than before. It didn’t scare me. If anything, it excited me more. He guided my hand to him and I wrapped my fingers around his thickness. He jumped against my palm and his chest rose sharply.
He said something against my mouth that I couldn’t make out and then he moved my hand up the length of him and then back down, establishing a rhythm that I kept up after he let go of my wrist. With his hand free now, it clasped the back of my neck as his other returned to the center of my thighs. Both of us were breathing fast when he cupped me through my panties. His palm pressed against the bundle of nerves as his fingers pushed into my heat, and I was lost. As he kissed me deeply and as I stroked him, I rode his hand. He thrust into mine, the movements small but forceful. His body shook as I felt the familiar tightening in my core. The knot unraveled, spiraling out through me. I came hard, his name a harsh whisper. His hand stayed there, rubbing me slowly through my panties as tremors rocked my body. And then he followed, his body thrusting up and spasming.
Forever seemed to pass before Cam gently pulled my hand away. I was limp and sated as he tucked me against his chest, holding me close, his heart pounding as fast as mine. He dropped a kiss on the lids of my eyes and then on my parted lips. We didn’t speak in the aftermath and I learned that sometimes words weren’t necessary.
But in the back of my head, I knew there were words I needed to say. Truths that should be spoken before we went any further. Things I needed to deal with.
“Hey,” Cam said, his voice soft. I’d tensed without realizing it. “You okay. I didn’t—”
“It was perfect.” I kissed his jaw, wishing I had a switch on my brain. “This is perfect.”
I just hoped it lasted.
Chapter 27
Economics became infinitely more interesting when I used the time in class to replay everything that Cam and I had done after his friends had left and Ollie had gone to bed the night before.
He’d taken me back to his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. Nervous energy had built in my stomach as he’d stalked toward me and cupped my cheeks. Since the night on my couch, we’d kissed and touched a lot, but it seemed different in his bedroom, more intimate, with more possibilities.
I tried not to think about actual sex, because I wasn’t sure I could actually go through the act. If it would feel good for me or if it would remind me of what happened. I knew it would hurt, because I was still very much a virgin, but would the pain become something deeper?
He hadn’t wanted more that night and I wondered if by some way, he knew.
Cam had taken my sweater off, but he’d left my bra and jeans on. His shirt had joined my discarded clothes, and when he’d kissed me his hands had tangled in my hair. We’d fallen onto his bed and he’d slid his leg between mine. As his kisses had trailed down my throat and centered over my lace-covered breasts, he’d dropped his hands to my hips, urging me to move against him. He’d drawn my hardened nipple into his mouth as I rocked against him, my head kicked back and mouth clamped shut to keep quiet. He’d brought me to an orgasm like that, no hands on me, through my jeans and panties. And when I slid my hands into his loose sweats, palming the hard, heavy length, he thrust against my hand, very much like I imagined he would inside me.
I had stayed for a while, cuddled up against him. We’d talked about everything and nothing, long into the night. I’d left when he started to doze off and he’d been awake enough to try to coax me back into his bed. He’d gotten up though and had walked me to my apartment door. Cam had given me the sweetest kiss goodnight.
There was a good chance that I’d fallen in love.
Okay. I’d probably already had months ago, but now it seemed more real, it was attainable, and—oh, God—I actually knew what love felt like—bubbly warmth. When I was around him or thought about him, I imagined I felt like the bubbles in champagne did, constantly floating to the top. Did I just think that?
A big goofy smile appeared on my lips.
Brit caught my eye and made a face.
Flushing, I decided I should pay attention for the last ten minutes of class. The professor was talking about gas pump lines in the early eighties. Something to do with supply and demand. I was so going to have to read that chapter.
“God, you have it so bad,” Brit said to me after class, as we walked out of Whitehall. “It’s all over your face.”