Passion in Portland 2016 Anthology

by Anthology

  I thought about it all the way to my apartment, but was still confused as I climbed the stairs over the thrift store that was already closed for the evening. I pulled my keys out of my purse, but stopped halfway to the top when I heard his voice.

  “Your stairs aren’t very comfortable.” He stood slowly, grimacing as he did, one hand rubbing his ass and the other gripping a beautiful bouquet of peonies. “I’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for you to get home. Next time I decide to stake out your apartment, I’m bringing a folding chair or something.”

  “What are you….” I turned around and looked down the narrow stairwell, for a moment confused about where I was. “How did you….”

  “Hadley found me on Facebook. Sent me a message. Told me your address. It didn’t take much convincing either. She’s either a really great friend, or a terrible one.”

  I let out an annoyed sigh. “Ugh, both.”

  “Well, I think she’s great,” he said with a nervous smile, still standing right in front of my door. I was suddenly very aware of the way I probably looked. I’d rolled out of bed, gone to brunch, then sat in a bookstore all day. Inwardly I was chastising myself for not being prepared for a mutiny by my best friend. I should have seen it coming.

  I continued up the stairs, still surprised to see Camden there. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’ve been avoiding me, so I thought I’d take matters into my own hands.” He looked down at the bouquet. “These are for you. I guessed on the flowers. Roses seemed a little too ordinary. Peonies are so, I don’t know, classy.” He held them out to me and I could see the fear in his eyes, feel it radiating off him. He was afraid I was going to turn him down again. But I looked at the flowers and took in his words, and the last thread of resistance I’d been clinging to simply snapped.

  “They’re beautiful,” I said, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you.” I brought them closer to my face and took in their beautiful scent. “I love peonies.”

  “I thought you might,” he said with a smile, more relaxed, but still a little hesitant.

  “I wasn’t expecting company, but you’re more than welcome to come in,” I said, giving him a hopeful look. I wasn’t ready to watch him walk away again. He smiled widely and his shoulders relaxed a little, settling back, like a weight had been lifted off him. I brushed past him to get to the door and just being near him made everything inside light up again. Hummingbird wings flittered in my stomach and my heart thumped harder in my chest.

  I opened the door and stepped inside, watching as he followed me. I closed the door and took in the image of Camden standing in my shabby apartment. None of the guys I’d brought back to my place before had taken the time to check out my place; it’d been more of a beeline straight to the bedroom and then a sneaky exit in the middle of the night. But Camden strolled around leisurely, making himself at home, taking the time to examine the little things about my apartment that made it less of a “place” and more of a “home.”

  I let the silence hang over us for a few moments, but then decided someone had to say something.

  “I would have picked up, but I wasn’t expecting my stalker to show up tonight.” Keeping the smile from my face turned out to be impossible, so I spun and walked into the kitchen so he couldn’t see my goofy grin, and found a vase for my beautiful flowers.

  “I think stalker is a strong word. Real stalkers don’t just e-mail you and wait at your door—they’re stealthier than that.”

  “You better work on your ninja,” I said, laughing, as I filled the vase with water and placed it on the counter.

  His next words were whispered into my ear, startling me. “Noted.” I jumped and he chuckled, but it definitely broke the ice. “But seriously,” he said, his voice gentle and full of apology, as he reached for my hand, turning me, “I’m really sorry about last weekend. I got carried away and I shouldn’t have let things move so quickly—”

  “No,” I said, my free hand covering his mouth before I’d really thought the move through. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I totally flipped out and then bailed, and it wasn’t cool.” I watched as a grin appeared behind my fingers, so I dropped my hand, only to have him catch it. He twined all his fingers through all of mine, and pulled me in a little closer.

  “So, we’re both sorry.”

  I laughed. “I guess so.”

  “Now what?”

  “I’m not really sure.”

  He held my gaze, neither one of us really smiling or frowning, just taking each other in. Then, suddenly, he was pulling me closer, his hands—which were still holding mine—moving to the small of my back, pressing me into him.

  “I think maybe we should start over. Neutral ground. A real date. No public coercion to make out, no Skee-Ball championship, just a regular date. Dinner. I’ll pick you up. I’ll take you home,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me while still smiling.

  I blushed, remembering the way I ran away from his condo the last time we were together. The idea of him driving me back to my crappy apartment in his fancy car had made me nervous. I let out a sigh, trying to let go of all the negativity. My apartment wasn’t crappy. It was homey and small and cozy. And Camden looked anything but out of place there. In fact, he looked right at home.

  “I’d love to go on a real date with you.”

  The smile he wore changed to something that radiated happiness. Teeth gleaming, eyes crinkling, cheeks bunching—all of it was adorable. Then, much to my delight, he leaned in closer and kissed me. All our previous kisses had been somewhat explosive and while, internally, I was still feeling all kinds of rockets going off and bells ringing, outwardly, this kiss was slow and sweet. Almost reverent, as though he were cherishing the kiss.

  When he pulled away, the same adorable smile graced his face. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

  I pulled back, a little shocked, but smiling still. “Tonight?”

  “Why not?” he asked, shrugging, then he brought the back of my hand to his mouth, kissing it softly. I was a goner.

  My eyes darted between his, thinking and plotting. Finally, I answered. “Can you give me two?”

  Two hours later there was a soft knock at my door and the birds were flying in exhilarating circles in my belly. My heart thought we were in the middle of the marathon. And my lungs, well, they were holding on to my last breath, hoping it wouldn’t be the end. I’d showered and changed, picking out a white lace dress with cap sleeves I’d never had a chance to wear before. It came down just short of my knees and looked cute with my merlot-colored ankle boots. My hair was curled into soft and loose ringlets, with one side pinned back. I’d put in some dangly pearl earrings and a delicate silver chain bracelet.

  I opened the door smiling, knowing my smile probably wouldn’t leave for the rest of the evening.

  Camden looked nervous, like I imagined a high school boy would look picking up his date, but excited at the same time. I watched his eyes flow down my body, taking everything about me in, appreciating what he saw, then meet my gaze again. “You look amazing,” he breathed.

  “I needed that extra hour,” I joked, but then I let myself examine him. If I looked amazing, he looked like perfection. He hadn’t shaved and was sporting some serious designer stubble, which only did wonderful things for his sharp jaw. And who in the world ever had a sexy Adam’s apple? Camden did. All those beautiful things led to his open-collar button-down in a light blue color, which was contrasted by the dark blue of his jeans. Those fucking thigh-hugging jeans. He came in perfectly between casual and dressy and, of course, was still sexy as hell. “You’re looking pretty handsome yourself.” My smile only grew wider.

  He grinned, held his hand out, and pulled me to him as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against my cheek. More flutters.

  I closed and locked my door, then smiled as he twined his fingers with mine, leading me down the stairs. The Batmobile was parked at the curb and I slid in
more gracefully than I thought possible after he opened the door for me.

  When we zoomed into traffic my body was still all aflutter. There was soft music playing on the radio and his hand was gently resting on my knee. There was a part of my brain that thought his hand on my bare leg was presumptuous, that normally I’d need to know a man for more than ten days to feel comfortable with that much contact. But I couldn’t deny the majority of my body liked feeling his skin against mine, longed for his hands to claim me in that way, to make me feel like he wanted me. Plus, the man’s mouth had been on my breast the week before. This was tame in comparison.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Ever been to The Melting Pot?”

  “No, but I’ve always wanted to go. Melted cheese is the way to my heart.”

  He laughed and gave my knee a squeeze, causing all the butterflies in my stomach that had landed to swarm up again, like running through a flock of birds.

  He drove into downtown Portland and parked in a garage, then led me across the street, all the while holding my hand. We came to a staircase leading underground and I gave him a confused look as he pulled me down the stairs.

  “It’s underground?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s legit.”

  And he was right. The restaurant was completely underground but it made the atmosphere more intimate. There were no windows, only dim lighting and sconces on the wall with one fixture hanging above every table.

  A waiter led us to a booth and I was surprised when Camden slid in next to me. We both ordered drinks and when the waiter left I felt the warmth of Cam’s hand on my leg again.

  “It was probably a bad idea for you to wear this dress, babe.” His whispered words feathered over my neck, causing all kinds of shivers and clenching. “I’ve got a million indecent thoughts running through my mind.”

  Smiling, I slid my hand over his. “You’re going to have to save the indecent for later. I’m here for some bread covered in melted cheese.” I was trying to deflect the arousal caused by his words, the pulsing happening in very private places, places I wanted parts of him to invade. Humor—that was my best defense at this point. Otherwise I foresaw us finding a private bathroom. No, not happening. I wanted a normal dinner with Camden. I wanted the anticipation of what would happen after dinner. I did not want his hand to creep up my thigh. I mean, I did and I didn’t. Just to make my point, I pressed my legs together, squeezing our fingers between my thighs. He only squeezed my leg right back, so I rolled my eyes.

  “So,” he said as the waiter brought our fixings for the bread and cheese I’d been waiting for all my life. “There’s a game this Thursday. Wanna go with me?”

  “To the Blazer game?” I asked, dipping a tiny square piece of bread in the cheesy pot. I wanted to open a restaurant where people could just dip giant chunks of bread in troughs of cheese. These tiny pieces simply wouldn’t do. “Don’t you usually take your friend?”

  He shrugged. “Justin’s cool. He knows there’s someone I’m trying to impress.” He winked at me, the bastard.

  “Oh, well, impress away. I’ll have to make it up to him though. I feel bad taking his ticket.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said, suddenly sounding possessive. His rumbly voice sent even more shivers down my spine. “Save all your favors for me.”

  The meal that followed the cheese was fantastic and I couldn’t remember a date I’d had where it felt so effortless and comfortable to sit next to someone and just talk. We talked about everything and anything, we laughed, we kissed, and we touched. By the time dessert was served, Camden’s arm was around me and I was curled into his side and we cracked up as we fed each other tiny bites of cakes and fruit dipped in chocolate.

  His kisses were sweet, but it wasn’t just the chocolate. It was him. I could see he was trying hard to be respectful, to get to know me while still dancing around the weird yet invigorating sexual buzz that floated around us ever since that first kiss. I’d be the first to admit I’d tried to deny it, to tamp down the raging attraction I felt for him, but every moment we spent together that night chipped away at my resolve.

  He paid the bill and led me up the staircase, his hand wrapped around mine, and we walked unhurriedly back to his car.

  “That was the perfect dinner,” I said, feeling nervous all of a sudden. I didn’t want the evening to be over, I didn’t want to watch him walk down my stairs, away from me again. He didn’t answer, but drew light circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.

  We were both relatively quiet as he crossed the river back to the east side of the city, but he held my hand the entire way. As we neared my neighborhood my heart started fluttering, the nerves taking over. The closer he got to my apartment, the more I wanted the night to extend. There was an open spot right in front of my building and he pulled in quickly. He put the car in park, but didn’t turn off the ignition. My eyes were glued to his hand in my lap.

  “Hey,” he said, using a gentle finger to pull my chin in his direction. “That was a great date.”

  “Yeah” was my breathy agreement. He moved in and pressed his mouth again mine, a soft kiss that felt too much like a good-bye. With his lips barely pressed against mine, I said, “Come upstairs.” We were paused, noses touching, breaths intermingling, and my request hanging in the air between us. His finger moved down my chin and trailed a soft path down the side of my neck, and then I felt the warmth of his entire palm at my cheek.

  “I want to, Riley. So badly. But every other time we’ve been together, I’ve taken things too far and you’ve run from me.” He let out a large and heavy sigh. “I don’t want to push you away again.”

  I brought my hand to cover his, which was still resting against my cheek. “You won’t. You can’t. I want this. I want you.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes darting between mine, then pulled his hand from my face, opened his car door, and climbed out. I watched him walk around the front, come to my door, open it, and hold a hand out to me.

  I took his hand and let him lead me out of the car and toward the door that opened up to my narrow stairwell. When we reached the top, he let me go to allow me to open my door, but I fumbled with the keys as I felt his hand gently move my hair from my shoulder. The tinkling of the keys in my shaking hand was all I heard before I felt his lips right on the curve where my neck and shoulder met. I gasped as the sensation sent rockets of pleasure throughout my body, my eyes fluttering, but I still managed to get the key in the door and open it.

  The door swung in and suddenly I was weightless. Camden’s arms wrapped around me from behind—one around my waist while the other was around my shoulders—and he held me close to him, walking me into my apartment, his mouth still doing wonderfully arousing things to my neck. I felt him kick the door shut and somewhere in my mind I registered my purse falling to the floor, but I didn’t care about anything except his mouth and the way it had my whole body igniting.

  “Bedroom,” he rasped against my skin, the stubble along his jaw completely undoing me.

  “Down the hall,” I whispered, unable to use my voice at all. “Second door on the right.”

  He wasted no time moving me to the bedroom, my body still completely in his arms, lost to the feeling of finally letting myself have this man.

  The room was dark, only moonlight shining through the window, but it was enough to see by. He stopped just in front of my bed and gently placed my feet back on the ground and unwrapped his arms from me slowly, dragging his hands over my body as if he didn’t want to lose contact for even a moment. His hand smoothed over my chest, the swell of my breasts tingling at the feeling of his fingers there, even over the material of my dress. I was absolutely a goner for him and my body wanted nothing more than to simply connect with his, to feel him, press against him, be filled by him.

  The warmth of his hands moved down the sides of me, over my ribcage, past the curve of my waist and the swell of my hips, until I felt him grasp the hem of my dress.

&
nbsp; “All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will,” he said softly, pausing, my dress still in his grip.

  “I don’t want you to stop,” I managed to whimper.

  His hands moved up slowly, peeling the dress away, removing the very last layer of resistance between us. I lifted my arms as the dress moved over my head, the ends of my hair falling back onto my oversensitive skin, causing new goose bumps to break out. I heard the fabric of my dress hit the floor somewhere in the corner, but was brought back to Camden when his fingers unclasped my bra. I felt it unsnap and fall forward, so I let it drift to the ground at my feet, but then gasped when I felt his lips at my spine. He trailed soft kisses down my back, slowly moving all the way down to the edge of my panties, all while my breath was caught in my lungs and my heart was tripping over itself. He pulled the back zipper down on my little heeled booties and slipped my shoes off, tossing them in the same direction as my dress. Then his hands came to my hips and gently turned me to face him.

  To see him kneeling before me, moonlight highlighting every beautiful feature of his face—his jawbone, his mostly perfect nose with just the slightest knot on the bridge, and that gorgeous stubble I wanted to feel grazing over every inch of my body—it made everything seem perfect, even the crazy way we met. In that moment I regretted nothing because I knew, had we taken any other path, that moment would never have occurred. And I’d have given up a lot to see those eyes staring up at me with nothing but adoration and lust.

  Without breaking eye contact, Camden slid my panties down my legs and I gently stepped out of them, waiting for his eyes to leave mine and take in my body. I was nervous, but only a little. There was that normal nagging voice in the back of my mind, worried he wouldn’t like something about me, but it was quieter than it usually was in moments like this. Sure, I wanted him to like my body and find me attractive, but there was something about the way he was looking into my eyes that told me it wasn’t my body he was after and he’d take me any way he could get me, that my body was something he craved just as a vehicle to something else, something more.