There are times when the guilt hits and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for all that my best friend and her husband have done for me. More than I deserve. But they assure me that my helping out around the house, babysitting Sadie so they get alone time, and often getting up with the baby in the night so they can sleep, is worth more.
“What time do you have classes tomorrow?” Layla says through a bite of birthday cake.
“I have a seven forty-five anatomy class then a lab at three.” I’ve been taking some classes at the community college to see if anything interests me outside of the restaurant business. So far I’m finding that science is my thing. Who knew?
“You guys hear about the show this weekend?” Caleb leans back in his chair and takes a pull off his beer.
“Yeah, Ataxia is opening for Five Finger Death Punch at the House of Blues.” Blake curls an arm around Layla. “Biggest show they ever played.”
“That’s gonna be a kickass show. Can we still get tickets?” I watch Mason move across the room and drop into the seat next to me.
He leans in close, and I fight the urge to lean away.
“Happy birthday, babe.” He slides a white envelope into my lap.
“No way, you got me tickets?” I should’ve known he would. He’s always trying to win me over with gifts and gestures, but my heart will never belong to anyone but Cameron. I throw my arms around Mason’s neck and hug him tight. “Thank you.”
He buries his nose into my neck through my hair. “You’re welcome.”
I pull back to avoid him holding on too long and getting the wrong idea. I know he thinks I’ll come around, regardless of my constantly telling him that I won’t.
“There’s two tickets in there. It’s your present, so you’re free to take whoever you want.” He shrugs and peeks up at me through eyelashes that are long for a guy. “If you need a ride though, I’ll take you.”
“Oh.” I study the envelope as I turn it over a few times in my hand. “I mean . . . yeah.” I swing my gaze to meet his. “Of course.”
I’d much rather go with Raven, or hell, I’d even rather go by myself than with Mason, but I can’t tell him no. The problem is, in the crowded club, he’ll take the opportunity to touch me. It’ll be innocent enough, but his mind will conjure up ideas about us being together, making the goodbye at the end of the night awkward.
Something I’ve learned over months of experience.
The sound of Sadie crying pulls my eyes to Jonah.
He’s patting the sling and swaying from side to side. “I think this party girl is ready to hit the sack.”
Raven turns to her husband with a forkful of birthday cake in her mouth.
“Hey, you guys enjoy the rest of the party.” I stand, grateful that I now have something to do that will break up my conversation with Mason.
It’s such a bitchy thing to do, but the alternative is to hang out with him longer, and that could lead him on, which is even bitchier.
“I’ll put Princess to bed.” I hold out my hands to Jonah, who places the little dark-haired angel into my arms. “Hey, Sadie girl.” I kiss the top of her head. “You ready for bed?”
I leave the party in the dining room and move into the kitchen to pull a glass bottle of breast milk from the fridge and pop it into the bottle warmer. Sadie kicks her tiny little feet and squirms in my arms.
“I know you’re hungry, baby. It’s almost done. Hang in there.” Finally, when the light indicates it’s ready, I test the milk temperature on my wrist. “Perfect.”
I pop the bottle into her mouth and move through the house and into my bedroom, where there’s a rocking chair. “Shh.” I hold Sadie close and watch her tiny little lips suckle and her eyes start to droop.
It’s times like this, in the silence of a dark room with nothing but gentle baby grunts, I reflect on my life. It hasn’t been easy, and I’ve seen my fair share of heartache, but I wouldn’t change a day of it because it meant getting me here.
Right now, this moment.
Holding my niece, living with the only family I’ve ever known, a room full of friends who’ve taken the time to come celebrate my birthday. It’s the closest thing to perfection I’ve ever known.
The one person who would make it perfect is Cameron.
But who deserves perfect? I certainly don’t, so I’ll choose to embrace the close-to-perfect kind of life I’m living.
It’s more than I ever expected.
And better than shitty.
~*~
Cameron
I don’t know how I got talked into this shit. Layla tends to be persuasive when she wants to be. I don’t see why she thinks going out to a crowded club with a bunch of kids half my age would be more fun than what I’m doing. That being working my ass off, going home to a have dinner in front of the TV, and then crashing.
Rex’s been slowly coming back from the dead for whatever reason, and I do want to support his band. I don’t know what the big deal with this band that he’s opening for is, but the House of Blues is a pretty decent venue, so I get that this is a big deal for him.
Thankfully, being the kid’s boss got me on some kind of VIP list, so I didn’t have to wait in line, and I got access to a private bar that’s a little less crowded than the main one. My muscles are tight and equally exhausted from all the hours I’m putting in at the training center. Jonah’s been training with me, which has been great, but knowing that he’s living with Eve makes it hard not to ask about her every time we’re training.
I’m pretty sure he purposely doesn’t talk about her with me, but he’s slipped up a few times, and I’ve gotten little glimpses into her life. I know she’s taken to Sadie like second nature, which doesn’t surprise me at all. She’ll make a great mother someday. I grit my teeth and slug back a mouthful of scotch. I know that she’s in school and working hard to get back on her feet after she lost her job and her house.
I also know it was her birthday last week.
No one invited me to the party, and even if they did, there’s no way I would’ve gone. Those messages she’d left me for a few weeks were torture. Listening to her cry and beg for answers to why I left and never turned back was pure soul-splitting agony. Shit, I had to lock my phone in my car every night for a month straight to avoid calling her. There was no way I could make contact with her because I knew if I ever touched her again, ever allowed her voice to penetrate, I’d never let her go, consequences and all.
But loving her means I have to stay away. It’s what’s best for her.
The bartender nods to my empty glass while dropping drinks off to a couple of girls next to me.
I push the glass away and nod for another. When the hell is this shit going to start? My watch says it’s ten minutes past nine.
I grab my new drink and turn my back on the bar to watch the stage. There’s music playing through the speakers while the band sets up. Thank God. Setting up is a good step in the right direction to getting this show over with.
Fuck, I sound like my old man.
My eyes scan the room, noting the colorful variety of people in attendance. The rockers with their black clothes, gelled hair, tattoos and piercings like Ryder. Then there are the women who could probably care less about the music and are here for the attention. Long legs, big shoes, bare midriffs, and an overabundance of cleavage. Finally, there’re the guys, the ones who also probably care less about the music, but followed the girls inside and are hoping to get laid.
I shake my head, but it stills when something familiar draws my eyes to the dance floor. What is that? I push off my barstool and move to a waist-high railing that separates the bar area from the rest of the place. It’s hard to see through the bodies that surround her, but I can tell by the serpentine way she moves and her hair that’s the perfect shade of gold.
Eve.
My mouth goes dry, and my blood floods with adrenaline. She’s not dancing alone, and as the people who surround her ebb and flow with the music, they part e
nough where I can see her. She’s with another girl.
Their legs are staggered together, hands sliding up the other’s arms slick with sweat. Eve rolls her hips to the beat of the music that seems to match the pulse that pounds in my ears. She flips to give the girl her back and then raises her hands into all that long blond hair. Just like the first time we met, watching her dance has my dick hard and aching. Every move she makes has me imagining her doing the same straddled over my lap while I’m buried deep inside her tight body.
I grip the railing to keep from lunging at her and ripping that tiny skirt up to her waist. Fuck. Her hips swivel, and with her hands in her hair, a slice of skin at her belly button shows. The girl she’s dancing with slides her hands around and trails her fingers higher . . . higher. Eve’s head drops back to the girl’s shoulder.
The eager girl cups Eve’s breast. Oh, fuck no.
As hot as it is to watch and as fired up as this little dance of seduction is making me, this is Eve. No one fucking touches her. Jealousy rips through my chest, and before I can put together a coherent thought, I’m prowling toward the dance floor. I shove through a crowd of horny assholes that have formed a semi-circle around the pair of girls, probably hoping to get in on their show, but they’re sorely mistaken.
I reach them and grab Eve’s hand hard. Her head jerks up along with her wide blue eyes. I take moment to study her gorgeous face now healed and as vibrant as it was before the accident. With her eyes on me, I want to savor the moment, but what I need to do, what my body demands, is riding me with an urgency that I’ve never felt before.
A symphony of shit talk and booing comes from the small crowd as I drag Eve to the back of the club and into a dark hallway with a lighted red Exit sign above it. I shove open the door and spill out into the back alley. I whirl her around and push her back against the wall, caging her with my body.
“Camer—”
My mouth comes down on hers in a punishing kiss, hard, demanding, and unforgiving. Fisting her hair, I tug her head back and to the side, pressing in so we’re touching chest to hip, my knee between her legs. She gasps, and my tongue dips deep inside the warm cavern of her mouth.
A low moan rumbles up from her throat, and her body melts into mine. I growl my approval and flex my hips into hers to show her exactly what her little fucking dance did to me. What she does to me.
Two months of not having this mouth spew sass and shit talk, this body tempting me with the simplest of sways. A wild, almost savage urge to fuck her hard right here roars through my blood.
I use my knee to spread her legs and push her tiny skirt up to her waist. Her nails rake up my arms, over my tee, and into my hair, pulling me deeper into her mouth. Fuck, yeah. She wants this.
With a swift tug, I pull her shirt up over her breasts. I run my thumb over the pale purple lace and watch her chest rise and fall faster. I slide my fingers beneath the fabric and pop out one breast before doing the same with the other then lean back to take her in. She’s pinned to the wall, shirt to her neck, gorgeous tits bared and moving with the force of her quickened breath. My dick strains against my jeans.
I try to be gentle, focus on not hurting her as my hand moves to the damp panties between her legs.
“Fuck, doll, you miss me as much as I missed you?” I run my fingers back and forth against her, wishing it was my dick that was feeling the wet heat of her arousal. “It better not be that bitch that got you this wet.”
I look down at her and groan at how sexy she looks: swollen lips ripe from my sucking, heavy lids, flushed cheeks.
“Tell me what turned you on, Eve.” I growl the words against the tender skin below her ear.
“Y-you . . . I . . . It’s you.”
I slide her panties to the side and bury two fingers into her. “Missed this; missed you.”
“Don’t stop.”
I taste the length of her neck, drinking in the warm sugar scent of her skin. Her body writhes against my hand, desperate for more.
“Cameron . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Please . . .”
“Come home with me.”
“Can’t wait.” Her hips press down on my hand and she rubs herself on my palm.
So fucking hot I could come right here from just feeling it. “You want it here?”
“Yes.”
I unzip my jeans, and it doesn’t take much to free my hard-on. Fisting it tightly, I press the head into her so she can feel how fucking serious I am about giving her what she wants right fucking now. “Last chance.”
She hikes one leg over my hip and leverages her back against the wall. “Now or I swear I’ll die.”
Raking her panties as far to the side as I can get them, I press inside her body. “Hell, baby, you feel too good.”
She rocks her head back against the wall, her hands holding onto my biceps, and legs locked around my hips. “No such thing as too good. Now move, Cameron.”
“Missed your sassy mouth.” I pull back and thrust in again. Back and forth again and again, punishing her for letting me go, and for not showing up at my door and demanding we stay together.
I quicken my pace, sliding my hand down between us to feel us connected and reminding myself that this is real. I need Eve like I need a damn hole in my head, but fuck if I can live without her. The woman sends me from zero to a zillion in a heartbeat; she brings out the worst in me and makes me feel completely out of control. She makes me feel alive. Gives me a taste of something I can fight for, something worth working my ass off to keep.
No way I’m letting her go again.
“Tell me you’re still on the pill, baby.”
Her head is back, eyes closed, lips parted.
I lean in and suck her bottom lip into my mouth and release it with a firm tug of my teeth. “Eyes open. Answer me.”
She tilts her chin down, gazes up at me through sex-fogged eyes, and pulls me to her lips in a long wet kiss that has me fighting to hold back my release.
“Yes.” She whispers against my lips so seductively as if she’s answering a lot more than my question with that one simple word.
I drop kisses along her jaw and hike her up a little higher to suck one pink nipple into my mouth.
Her hands tighten into my hair making my scalp sting. “I lo . . . Cameron, I—” The orgasm rips through her body with such force that I have to use both my hands to hold her steady. I feel her pulse and the vibration of her moan against my forehead, which I’ve buried into her neck.
Her body in my arms, wrapped and throbbing around me, I fall right over the edge after her, my hips jacking forward with the force of it. My fingers dig into the heavenly flesh of her bare ass, and I swear to myself I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her.
We’re panting hard. The music from the live show blares all around us and makes it impossible for anyone to have heard what just happened.
“You good, baby?” I kiss a path from her collarbone to her lips.
She nods, and I slide out of her before easing her down to her feet. Once she’s steady I focus on righting her panties, which has my dick forgetting that it just came seconds ago. I tuck it back into my jeans and pull Eve’s skirt down, to cover her while she adjusts her bra cups and straightens her shirt.
She looks up at me, and I can’t explain what it is about her expression that makes me uneasy, but it’s like there’s a shadow there that wasn’t there before. I don’t like it.
“Look, I . . .” I run my hand through my hair and study the brick wall just over her shoulder. “I’m sorry about coming after you like that.”
She shakes her head and opens her mouth to say something, but her body language is freaking me the fuck out, and I don’t want to hear the words that are going to accompany it.
“Before you say anything, can we go somewhere and talk?”
“I can’t. I, uh”—her eyes dart out toward the backdoor of the club—“I need to go.”
“No.” I step closer with the hope that m
y body size alone will be enough to keep her from running. “You don’t. I’m not letting you get away again.”
Her eyes narrow and her jaw gets hard. “Letting me get away? Again?”
“If you’ll let me explain—”
“You had your chance to explain, Cam.”
Cam? She’s never called me by my nickname before. Hearing it from her lips shreds through my chest.
“You called me doll, soothed me, and told me everything was going to be okay, and then you left me in a hospital bed. I haven’t heard from you in two months. I called you, crying, begging you to talk to me. And now you want to explain?”
“You have every right to be pissed, doll—”
“Don’t fucking call me that!”
I need her more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my entire life. It took me too long to realize it, but I realize it now, and the fact that she’s pulling away from me is making me crazy.
“I’m trying to explain to you why I had to walk away.”
A short burst of laughter shoots from her lips as if she intended it to strike and kill. “It’s too fucking late! The damage is done.”
No, no way. “I refuse to accept that.”
“Ask me if I care.”
“You seemed to care when I had my dick buried in your body.” Dammit. I cringe against my own words.
Her mouth gapes and then closes before her eyes narrow. “That was a mistake.”
“The fuck it was. You don’t beg for mistakes, Yvette.” Again, probably not the smartest thing to say, but damn she brings the shit out of me.
“I didn’t beg.”
I lean in close. “The fuck you didn’t.”
“Step away, Cameron.”
“I can’t. I’m in love with you.”
Her entire face goes slack, and she sucks in a quick breath. “That’s a cheap shot.” There’s malice in her words, but her eyes well with tears.
I cup her cheek and swipe at a single tear that slides down her face. “Not cheap, doll. I am. I love you.”
She shakes her head, and her eyes dart up in what looks like an effort to look anywhere but at me. “Let me go, Cameron.”
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