by Kendall Ryan
She’s right. I’m absolutely beaming. I can’t wait to tell the guys.
“You have fun tonight, honey!”
As Janelle walks away, I pull out my phone, drafting the message.
Hear ye, hear ye! Your girl has finally acquired the fabled promotion! Drinks tonight on me??
My thumb hesitates over the SEND button. Apparently, muscle memory isn’t more powerful than my fear of confronting Cam. It’s been a few days since that night at the hotel. If I don’t see him now, will I keep avoiding him forever? That seems unlikely. Jack certainly wouldn’t allow that to happen. I can be a big girl and keep my libido in check. Still, I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.
Whatever. You deserve this.
And who better to celebrate this milestone with than my two best friends?
I hit SEND and let the celebrating commence.
• • •
Even the way Cam’s lips wrap around a damn sushi roll has me thinking dirty thoughts. The line of his jaw clenching and unclenching hurtles me back down memory lane. You know, the memory with my mouth on his cock.
After a little dispute on the proper cuisine for such an occasion, we’ve landed at my favorite sushi bar downtown. Both the guys are shoveling down spicy tuna, but I barely have an appetite for the cottage-cheese-and-avocado roll on my plate. I push it around restlessly, as if the smears of soy sauce would somehow reveal my future.
Our future, more precisely.
“Hey, Moore,” Jack says through a mouthful of rice. “Why the focus-face?”
I laugh halfheartedly. I’m not focused at all. I’m barely present. How am I supposed to focus on anything when all I can think about is kissing Cam?
“Just thinking about work.”
“What does this promotion mean for you?” Cam asks. Even his voice makes me tingly. Dammit.
“It means I get to make more of the marketing decisions, larger scale. What promotions or events to advertise, when, where, and how. I get to develop the whole marketing strategy. It’s what I’ve wanted since I was hired.”
“She’s power hungry,” Jack whispers to Cam. Cam’s perfect lips curl into a sexy smirk as he glances at me. I avert my gaze immediately.
Well, that was subtle.
I can feel Cam’s inquisitive gaze on me as Jack continues to fictionalize my rise to power and prestige in the nonprofit sector. Cam’s most definitely aware of my strange behavior. I can’t help it. If I look him in the eyes too long, I’m afraid I’ll melt into a puddle of lust-struck goo. I stare purposely at Jack but don’t hear a word he says.
“And with that, I say we make a toast,” Jack finishes. He lifts his sake to eye level, and Cam and I follow suit.
“To the best friend neither of us deserves. Natalie, you’re the best friend two dudes could ask for. To the many years ahead of us!”
“Cheers,” Cam adds with a brilliant smile.
My eyes are smarting with fresh tears, but I manage to clink my sake with theirs. It’s me who doesn’t deserve them. How could I, while I’m lusting after the taller, sexier friend?
I need to get a grip, and get it fast. If I don’t, I may lose both of these incredible men forever.
Is this desire between Cam and me stronger than the desire to maintain the friendship between the two of them?
Suddenly, I hope not.
Chapter Seventeen
Camden
“I hate tuxes,” Jack grumbles, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
“You look good,” I reply. We’re in Natalie’s childhood bedroom, adjusting our tuxes in the small vanity mirror. The rest of the bridal party is scattered throughout the upstairs bedrooms, doing the same. Natalie, ever the giver in our group of friends, recognized how expensive the resort was going to be for Jessie and Tyron to book at the last minute. She offered her family’s mansion for the wedding ceremony and reception since they wanted to get married right away—before Tyron deploys again.
“My parents won’t mind,” she assured Tyron and Jessie. “They’re out of the country. They’ll be more bummed that they’re going to miss it.”
Jack shifts uncomfortably in his formal wear. Personally, I love a good tuxedo. I don’t get the opportunity to look this nice very often. And as far as I’m concerned, a wedding is a perfect chance to dig it out of my closet.
“You look like James Bond,” Jack complains. “I look like a fucking penguin.”
“A handsome lady-killer penguin,” I say, straightening his bow tie for him with a smirk.
Jack swats my hands away and plops down with a loud groan on Natalie’s bed. The room is nothing like her. The walls are stripes of white and black, stark and modern. Nothing like the sweet, soft Natalie that I know. The only thing that reminds me of her is the knitted blanket at the end of her bed. I’m sure she made it herself.
“Speaking of ladies,” Jack says, cutting into my thoughts. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the bet. We’re at a wedding. What are weddings for?”
“The union of two people in love?”
“What? Nooo. Hooking up with bridesmaids. It’s like I don’t even know you.” Jack shakes his head in disgust. I chuckle. Little does he know; he’s already won that bet. I’m not about to tell him that I’ve been fooling around with our best friend behind his back.
Maybe not ever.
“Tomorrow’s the thirty-day mark and we’ll be off the hook,” I point out.
“Yeah, and I barely fucking made it through. Damn dick’s practically been rubbed raw.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Yoo-hoo, coming in.” Natalie peeks her head in, her hair falling off her shoulder in loosely styled waves. Her makeup is natural, accentuating the angles and curves of her face. She’s beautiful, of course.
“Shit, you guys look great.” She frowns dramatically.
“Why the face?” Jack asks.
“Because I have to wear this.” Natalie opens the door the rest of the way, allowing us to fully take in the disaster before us.
“It’s orange,” I say.
“Tangerine, to be precise,” she says with finger quotes. “Jessie’s favorite color. So here I am.”
“You look more like a pumpkin,” Jack says with a laugh, and she flips him off.
“And there’s no one better to pull off that look.” I watch her try to fight a small smile, but it curls up the corners of her mouth. Small victories.
“Well, Jack, you’d better find Meredith. She’s gonna be pissed if she has to keep looking for you,” Natalie says, shooing him out the door.
“Here I go.” Jack sighs. He sulks out of the room with a halfhearted salute.
Jack closes the door behind us, and it’s just Natalie and me in the room now. Just Natalie and me in the entire world.
God, I want to tell her how beautiful she is.
“No date to the wedding?” I ask, my voice tight.
“No.” She scoffs. “Who would I ask?”
“You could have your pick of any men.”
“And you could have your pick of any women. But you’re alone today too.”
There are words hanging between us, words neither of us will say. The memory of what we did in that hotel bed is so fresh, I can almost still taste her kisses. Part of me is relieved we didn’t go any further. If I knew what it was like to be inside her, I know I’d have a hard time keeping my cool around her. I don’t have a witty response to her statement, just a silent acknowledgment that we’re both here alone, and neither of us knows what to do about it.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Of course.” I offer her my arm. It takes her a moment, but Natalie accepts it. She loops her hand through my arm, and together, we join our friends.
Over the course of the evening, we all get a lot drunker faster than any of us expect. Natalie’s parents have an excessive amount of alcohol in their home, and we certainly have helped ourselves. It was
a small ceremony, just a handful of friends and family. But it was beautiful. I couldn’t help but look over at Natalie as Tyron and Jessie were exchanging their original vows. But she wasn’t looking at the couple.
Was she looking at me?
I didn’t have time to dwell too much on that possibility as the groom kissed the bride and the dancing commenced. It takes a lot of alcohol to get me on a dance floor, and Jack and Natalie weren’t going to let me spend the night sober, sitting on the sidelines.
Here I am now, reasonably drunk, my bow tie hanging loosely from my neck. We’re all eating wedding cake while watching the bride and groom dance the final song, wrapped in each other’s arms. They’re a picture of perfect love and commitment. And if I were to think about it enough, they’re the picture of the same things that I want with Natalie, but I can’t let my mind go there for even a moment.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Natalie asks me as the song reaches a close, interrupting my melancholy thoughts. There are tears in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, my eyes never leaving her face. I don’t care if she never loves me. I will always look at her like this.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I reach over to her and wipe a small fleck of white frosting from her lip. When I lick it off my thumb, her face grows pink, and I smile. Maybe it’s not hopeless after all, but this is neither the time nor the place to showcase any feelings we might have for each other. We both know lines were drawn and lines were crossed, and now we’re operating in a gray area. I want to hold her, want to say a thousand things to her, but instead, I just stand there quietly.
About an hour later, a limo arrives to whisk the happy couple away. As the guests begin to say their good-byes and trickle out, I pour myself another glass.
Before long, Jack and I are sitting on the steps of the foyer’s grand staircase, our jackets hanging over chairs in the other room. Jack’s arm drapes loosely around my shoulders.
“I have a confession to make,” he says, slurring his words.
“Uh-oh.”
“I’m going to lose this bet.” He snickers.
“Why’s that?”
“Meredith definitely wants me.”
We exchange a look and crack up at this turn of events.
“Do you want her?”
“Fuck if I know! My dick hasn’t had any action from anything other than my hand the past month. I’m not sure if I still know what to do. Wish me luck!” He plants a sloppy, drunken kiss on my cheek and stumbles away. I would chase after him, but the guy deserves a little excitement after this month of celibacy. I’m glad he’s finally feeling up to the chase again. I watch in amusement as he offers to share a cab ride home with Meredith, and she grins and accepts.
The place is trashed. While most guests took a centerpiece of flowers home with them, they left behind their dinner remnants and half-empty glasses.
Where is Natalie? I know her parents usually employ a cleaning crew, but that doesn’t seem like her style. I can imagine it now. “I have two perfectly good hands,” she would say.
I roll my eyes, then decide another pair of hands would make this process a lot easier and faster. I rummage around in the cabinets for a trash bag, and then begin my trek across the large expanse of the Moore mansion. First, the banquet hall.
As I squat down to pick up a bit of cake that must have jumped ship, I hear footsteps and turn to see Natalie walking down the stairs.
“Good-bye!” she calls to some unknown guests as they leave. The door clicks shut, and the house is silent. Natalie stands there alone on the staircase landing, perfectly still.
What is she thinking about?
She must shake off whatever feeling is holding her there, because she heads down the stairs. She holds up the hem of the tangerine dress in her hands, careful not to drag it on the floor. She hates the thing, but still takes care of it.
Classic Natalie.
I should tell her I’m still here so I don’t frighten her. But I keep my mouth shut.
Natalie walks up to the remaining pile of cake still sitting on the elaborately decorated cart. With a finger, she swipes a dollop of frosting and brings it to her mouth. She doesn’t eat it quite yet, however. First, she presses the frosting lightly against her lips and closes her eyes. I’m mesmerized.
Now, really. What the hell is she thinking about?
After a moment, she dips her finger into her mouth, tasting the vanilla fluff. I watch as her eyelids flutter, and imagine she’s overcome with the sweet, savory taste on her finger.
When I rise to my feet, Natalie jumps, her hand over her heart.
“Oh my God, Cam! You fucking scared me.”
“Sorry. How’s the cake?”
She blushes. “What are you still doing here?”
“I thought I would help you clean up.” I lift the trash bag in explanation and she looks away, almost abruptly. Is she annoyed? What’s wrong?
“You really don’t have to do that. My parents already called the cleaning staff to take care of it all in the morning. I told them I’d do it myself, but . . .” She trails off, shrugging. “They never listen.”
I close the distance between us, walking across the parquet floor to meet her. There’s only a foot of air between us now.
“I’ll listen. Tell me where to start.” I could kick myself for seeming too eager. Natalie meets my eyes reluctantly as a smile curls her lips. I don’t mind so much making a fool of myself if this is my reward.
“My hero. It’s really not necessary. Thank you, though,” she says softly, reaching out to place her hand on my arm. I can feel her touch burn through my dress shirt.
“In that case, would you like to share a cab home?”
She rubs her thumb against my arm, a familiar and exciting feeling. Is she doing that on purpose? She doesn’t seem to be aware, as if it’s merely a reflex of our bodies being so close.
“I thought I’d just stay here tonight.”
“Of course.”
Her eyes search my face. What is she looking for? What can I give her?
I just want to kiss her. I want to press her against me, rake my fingers through her hair, feel her breath on my lips.
“I’ll take that,” she murmurs. She drops her hand from my arm to my hand, where I hold the trash bag. Her fingers brush mine and halt. I can hear my own heart pounding a passionate rhythm in my chest.
Instinctively, I pull her fingers into my palm, letting the trash bag fall to the floor.
We both watch our hands twine with each other to form an intricate knot that neither of us intended. It’s our bodies, instinctively having their way with each other. I can’t stop my thumb from rubbing circles into her knuckles, desperate for the contact. She squeezes back.
If she isn’t going to stop, neither am I.
“Natalie.”
She looks up at me, her lips parted, her eyes wide. I can tell by the rise and fall of her chest how hard it is for her to breathe.
I feel the same way.
“Cam—”
I kiss her softly on the lips, the lightest of touches. I step closer to press my lips a fraction more firmly against hers, letting my eyes drift shut.
There are only two points of connection. Our intertwined hands and our lips. She stays like that, frozen and still, until my mouth breaks from hers. I open my eyes, daring her. Go ahead. Deny this.
Her eyes sparkle in the dim light as she shakes her head, ever so slightly. Then she reaches up so, so slowly. The back of her fingers brush against my jawline before she places her warm palm against my cheek. Her lips curl up.
Does that mean—
She answers my unspoken question with her mouth on mine. I suck in a breath. I thought kissing Natalie was the best feeling. No, the best feeling is being kissed by Natalie. Our kisses, once so fragile and tentative, become hard and wanting. She gasps against my mouth as I hold her waist, pulling her flush against my body.
I want you. So fucking badly.
These words fill my mind, threatening to spill out of my mouth. When they do, Natalie moans against me, drawing herself up on her toes.
“I want you too,” she whispers back.
It’s a blur of hands, lips, and whispers then. Before I know it, I’ve hoisted Natalie up. Her legs are around my hips and she grinds against me. I’m hard in an instant, which makes it difficult to walk, but I manage. We stumble up the stairs—me half carrying her, and her dragging me with her. It’s not the most graceful thing, but neither of us seems to care. We’re laughing and kissing and apologizing. It’s just so very us.
Once we reach her bedroom, I kick open the door, shuffling backward into the darkness. She slides down from my arms, shoving me onto the bed. I land with a bounce, the wind knocked out of me. But she gives me no time to recover before she climbs on top of me.
All I can do is hold on as she kisses me hard on the mouth while she rubs herself against my pelvis. I’m hard in the way I’m only hard for this woman in my arms. She tears at the buttons of my shirt, exposing my chest to her curious lips and tongue. It feels so insanely good to know that she wants me as much as I want her. I fumble with her hideous dress, trying to find the zipper or the buttons or whatever will get this orange monstrosity off of her. She laughs breathlessly into my ear.
“It’s on the side, you dope,” she whispers. I find the zipper and pull, desperate to feel her breasts in my hands again. It catches on the scratchy fabric, refusing to budge.
“Fuck this dress.” I growl out the words, and with both hands, I rip the fabric where the zipper snags. Natalie giggles as I flip her over to nibble on her exposed neck and chest. Laughter turns to sighs as I rediscover all of her most sensitive spots along her throat and collarbone. I graze my teeth against her skin, and her hips buck up to meet mine.
Fuck, Cam. Take it slow.
I tell myself this, but my fingers still find her thigh, gliding upward to her hot, wet center. I tease her, using one fingertip to draw an inquisitive line along her panties. She squirms against my hand and bites my shoulder. Hard.
“Ow.” I snicker.
“Don’t tease,” she says with a pout, and I smirk.