Cameron (Wild Men Book 7)

by Melissa Belle

  Cameron

  Melissa Belle

  Copyright © 2019 Melissa Belle. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America by Autumn Ink Press.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual situations or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means, except for brief quotes used for the purpose of review, without the prior written permission of the author. Any trademarks, service marks, or product names are the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference.

  Cover Art: J. Hunter Designs

  Editing: J. Dylan & D. Yacovetta

  Contents

  Also by Melissa Belle

  STAY UP TO DATE WITH MELISSA

  ABOUT

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Declan

  Also by Melissa Belle

  STAY UP TO DATE WITH MELISSA

  About the Author

  Also by Melissa Belle

  Boston Boys Series

  BOSTON BILLIONAIRE

  BOSTON LOVE

  BOSTON ESCAPE

  BOSTON ROOMIE

  WILD MEN Series

  WILD MAN

  COLTON

  DYLAN

  AYDEN

  JENSON

  BRAYDEN

  CAMERON

  DECLAN

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  ABOUT

  Savannah

  Every day is the same. I go to the Climax Coffee Shop, and then to the hockey rink where I’ve worked since I was a kid.

  But today, a cocky guy cuts me in line. A dark-haired, sexy guy with laser eyes and a perfect body.

  I can’t ignore how hot he is, and I especially can’t ignore how he’s the only man to ever make me want. Like really want.

  By the time I walk into my office, I’m completely thrown off by the Hot Stranger.

  Then my boss tells me a new player is joining our ice hockey team and it’s my job to do whatever it takes to make him comfortable.

  Only one problem: the new hot shot is the Hot Stranger, and the rulebook says I’m forbidden to score with team members.

  My boring life just got a lot more interesting.

  Cameron

  Savannah McMann has fierce green eyes and a temper to match.

  But she’s shy and skittish whenever I put my eyes on her. I can see she’s wounded but I can’t tell what kind of jerk hurt her.

  And why the hell do I care anyway? I’m on this team to get my stats up, not to score with the coach’s assistant.

  But my head keeps finding reasons to end up in Savannah’s office, while another part of me dreams of being in her pants.

  She’s got a strong defense, so I’ve got to play it slow or I’ll end up flat on the ice with my stick in my hands.

  One thing’s for sure: I want her. I like her. And I’m ready to take a few body checks to show her I’m the real deal.

  Prologue

  Savannah

  “Happy New Year!”

  I hold up my champagne glass and clink it with everyone else’s. My two older sisters and brother-in-law all cheer as the local bar broadcasts the ball dropping in Times Square. I turn away from the flat-screen TV and return to the game of solitaire on my phone. I’ve been playing all night, and honestly, the three times I’ve won have been the best part of my evening. Standing around a crowded bar on New Year’s Eve is not my idea of a good time.

  “We need resolutions!” Celie shouts as she pries her lips away from Pru’s.

  “You, Miss Celie, will learn to cook,” Molly says to her.

  Celie throws back her head and laughs, her blond ponytail bouncing. “Done. You, you little workaholic,” she says to Molly, “will start going out socially. With people other than your equally-workaholic co-workers,” she adds firmly when Molly starts to speak.

  I brace myself as my sisters’ two heads turn in my direction.

  Celie raises her glass with a big smile. “And you, Savannah? Your resolution is the best of them all, certainly the most fun. It involves scoring, which goes perfectly with your line of work.”

  I brace myself for what I sense is coming.

  Sure enough—

  “You will lose your virginity.”

  Chapter One

  Savannah

  I stop at the Climax Coffee Shop first thing to pick up my usual. I’m in line and next to order when a man comes through the door. A very well-built, athletic man with broad shoulders. He’s wearing a long black coat and blue scarf that can’t hide how hot he is in a rugged, sexy way. This guy’s never been here before. I definitely would have remembered seeing him.

  He strides purposefully across the room, moving with ease around the tables and customers staring at him.

  He walks toward the line.

  Then he keeps walking until he…

  Strides right past me and cuts into the line ahead of me, never even glancing in my direction.

  Before I realize what I’m doing—

  “Hey!” I’m shocked to hear my own voice. Where did that protest of mine come from?

  “This will just take a second.” He turns to me and flashes me a quick grin as he gestures for me to step up next to him. “I’ll pay for yours at the same time. What are you having?”

  Normally, I would let it go. I’ve never been good at speaking up for myself, and causing a public scene is the exact opposite from the type of thing I’m comfortable with.

  But this guy’s cocky attitude pisses me off. At the same time, his striking dark eyes, trimmed facial hair, and sexy smirk are lighting me up somehow. Well, being hot isn’t going to work in his favor. I don’t go for spoiled brats; I don’t go for anyone, really, since I’ve never even been on a real date. I’m a virgin for a reason—I don’t have relationships, one-night stands, or friends with benefits.

  And, outside of work relationships, I don’t make small talk with men. But this time, for whatever reason, I climb out of my box and glare at the line-cutter. “I do mind, actually. A lot. I’m next, and you’re not.”

  He angles his head of thick dark hair at me and gives me a panty-dropping grin. “Please? You won’t lose any time, I swear.”

  His gaze is assessing me, and I recede back to my shy and awkward self. “It’s the principle of it,” I mutter, my face flushing with heat. “You’re being rude.”

  His voice softens. “Hey. Are you
okay?”

  I snap my head back up to meet his dark eyes. “What?” My voice comes out shaky and defensive.

  “Where’d your stick go?” He sounds genuinely curious.

  “Excuse me?” I say. He must think I work at the hockey rink next door. “There are plenty of hockey sticks at the team facility.”

  “Well, you look like you just lost yours,” he says in a teasing tone. “You wanted to haul off and hit me, which I don’t blame you for, and then you just…went quiet. What happened?”

  All I can do is stare back at him. The long answer to that would take all day. The short answer isn’t something I tell strangers.

  “I’m sorry for being an ass,” he says. “I’m having a shit morning. That’s no excuse for cutting, of course.”

  His apology is so genuine and kind that I freeze and can’t speak.

  “You want a coffee?” he asks me. “Or something else?”

  “Just a coffee. Black. And a beignet,” I add quietly.

  Too quietly, apparently, because before I know it, he’s bent his head next to my mouth. “One more time. I didn’t catch the last part.”

  He’s shifted so close to me I can smell him, an erotic woodsy scent I want to inhale forever. I take a shaky breath and repeat what I said.

  “A beignet? Really?” he says, confusion filling his face.

  “It’s a pastry. They’re popular in New Orleans,” I say like that explains everything.

  He nods. “I know what they are. I’m from Louisiana. But I’ve never had one up here.”

  “This is the only place I’ve ever seen them,” I say. “They’re delicious.”

  He stands up straight again and nods before stepping to the counter to place our orders.

  I spend the next two minutes admiring him from behind. I stare at the lean, muscular back of the arrogant, rude, line-cutting meanie, who’s ordering me a beignet and has a baritone voice so sexy I could swoon.

  He’s got our coffees now, and my pastry, and he turns and hands me my cup and bag. I take them without a word and then try to hand him cash. He waves my money off, but as I go to pass him, he leans in. “Again, I’m sorry about that. Like I said, I’m running late for my new job and needed a caffeine fix. How about next time we sit down properly and talk?”

  Our eyes lock, and I can’t look away. He touches my cheek and gently brushes a stray hair off my face. I nearly let out an audible gasp as his touch gives me shivers, and my eyes cling to his like a life raft.

  His shining eyes darken, and he runs his thumb along my jaw. Then he swallows and abruptly stuffs his hand in his jacket pocket while he waits for my response.

  I can’t say yes, not when I’m shaking like a leaf for reasons I can’t understand.

  “I don’t think so.” I look up into his face, prepared to give him a curt good-bye, but the vulnerability in his eyes surprises me, and I jerk back.

  His expression changes all of a sudden, like he realized he just showed me something he wasn’t planning on revealing. He averts his gaze right away, says a quick good-bye, and he’s gone.

  Well, damn. My hands are still shaking. What the heck was that?

  I don’t get crushes or go on dates or have meaningless hookups. I just…work. And hang out with my family. That’s it. So, this random guy making my stomach clench—it’s unsettling.

  I hurry outside the coffee shop and into the numbing cold of Climax, Minnesota, my map dot of a town just outside Minneapolis. The town name does not appear to increase citizens’ libidos or number of orgasms. None of this is scientifically proven, of course; I just know that I’ve felt asexual my entire life. And Celie’s resolution for me? In all my life, I’ve never had the urging to have sex. Not until a moment ago when I had the actual desire to climb the line-cutter’s body and beg him to get me off.

  I burst into giggles as I turn into the back alley. It’s time for me to get to work.

  Cameron

  I head for the ice rink, but my mind is still on the brunette beauty who shot me “back off” daggers with her eyes and blushed at me like I both terrified her and turned her on.

  And then I asked her out. What the hell was that about? I haven’t wanted a serious relationship in years, not since Amy and I broke things off. My preference has been to stay casual. Like one-night casual. But I never lost my healthy appreciation for the opposite sex, and that woman back there?

  She was beautiful. In a classic, elegant way. Her dark hair was pinned up on the top of her head, and her green eyes swirled with brown and gold and…lust. She didn’t try to hide her attraction to me, but I almost got the feeling that was because she was so surprised by it she couldn’t mask her feelings.

  That we had in common. I got to the coffee shop in a shitty mood, and when I’m in a bad mood about hockey, I don’t notice much.

  But I noticed her.

  All I wanted was a shot of caffeine before I meet my new coach and teammates. I’ve never been a morning person, and seven a.m. practices suck. And after my father decided to get up to see me off this morning, which included a twenty-minute lecture about how much I’ve screwed up his plans for me, my mood turned more sour.

  So yeah, I was a dick cutting her in line like that. But if she hadn’t gotten my attention with those sexy-as-fuck eyes and pouty lips, I wouldn’t have teased her. She made me want to…pull her ponytail or something like I’m back in the first grade and haven’t figured out how to flirt with a girl.

  I shake my head. I’m never going to see the brunette again anyway, so any more thoughts of her are meaningless. The wind kicks up before I’m halfway through the coffee shop parking lot. I’ve been in Minnesota six years and I’m still not used to the northern winters. I glance around, wondering if there’s a shortcut to the ice rink from here.

  Savannah

  I take this alley every morning to get from the coffee shop to the hockey arena. The faceless doorways and dumpsters creep me out, but the alley is usually empty, and the buildings buffer the wind.

  With my coffee, bagged pastry, and purse in hand, I hustle toward the rink. My stomach is rumbling for my beignet breakfast. Eating beignets is something Daddy and I used to do together although Mama’s the one from the South. And while my father’s long gone, I’ve kept up the tradition, one of the many things I haven’t changed in my routine since he left.

  I’m in my own head, and I don’t realize anyone else is around until a heavy arm wraps around me painfully. My coffee goes flying out of my hands and hits the pavement with a smack. I try to scream, but a hand covers my mouth immediately, and the vice-like grip around my torso forces me down until I’m on all fours on the ground.

  “Give me your wallet, and I won’t hurt you,” a man’s nasally voice says to me, his heavy weight pressing on me so hard I can barely breathe. “And don’t you dare fucking scream, either, you hear me, little bitch?”

  I flinch at the word and reach for my purse, the strap still wrapped around my wrist. My hands are shaking so much I can barely grab onto my wallet at the bottom of my purse. Before I can hand it over, the man holding me down grunts.

  “What the fu—” he shouts just above my head before his hand leaves my mouth and his weight leaves my body.

  I lift my head and twist to the left. A man is lying flat on his back next to me, and he’s unconscious. I scramble to my feet, only to get a head rush.

  I’m halfway back to the ground when two strong hands gently catch me. “Easy,” a recognizable voice says softly. “Don’t rush it.”

  I look up and into the eyes of a familiar and maddeningly gorgeous man. “You again?” I say to the line-cutter from the coffee shop. “Where did you come from?”

  “I found a shortcut to work. You okay?” he asks me, his dark eyes filled with concern as he peruses me. “I don’t see any blood. Are you hurt?”

  I wrestle out of his grasp and try to catch my breath. “I’m fine. Thank you for…” I look down at the unconscious man at our feet. “Doing that. Will he be
okay?”

  His expression turns hard. “He doesn’t deserve to be okay, but he will be. I knocked him on the back of the head to get him off of you.” He holds up his phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

  While we wait for the police to arrive, I say, “I know you’re late for your new job. I’ll be fine once the police arrive.”

  “I’m not going to leave you,” he begins.

  “Don’t be silly,” I say, glancing up as the siren sounds get closer. “You’ve already done everything you could do. Please. I don’t want you to be later on my account.”

  Two squad cars turn down the alley, stopping a few feet away from us. Three policemen exit the cars and rush over to us. Line-cutter and I are separated so we can give our statements, and the mugger is handcuffed and put in the back of one of the cars.

  When I’m done with my statement, I wave good-bye to Line-cutter, who’s still in the middle of his statement. He calls out, asking me to wait, but I turn away and jog down the alleyway, not stopping until I safely get to work.

  Chapter Two

  I stand impatiently in the smallest, darkest office at the northeast corner of the hockey complex, four pairs of ice skates lying on the table in front of me. I know better than to rush through the sharpening process, though. I take my time with the machine, taking care not to cut myself. My hands are still shaky from the near-mugging I just went through, but being here helps. Working with the skates feels comforting and familiar this morning. I stop the sharpening machine and examine my work. The blades look so clean and razor-sharp I can make out the hint of brown and gold in my green eyes. I smile with satisfaction and put the guards on.