Under His Protection

by LaQuette

  “Camden?”

  Concern tinted Elijah’s voice as he looked up at Camden. The way he said Camden’s name, the softness that surrounded the one word, made it seem hallowed, necessary—words Camden had never associated with his own existence before. Hearing it made his heart ache just a little. Here he was with the man of his dreams, being accepted by that man’s family, and because of Camden’s crazy work life and problematic familial obligations, he might not get to make these moments last beyond this case. Life really sucks sometimes.

  Camden took the space Elijah had made for him, holding his breath as he pressed himself against the front of Elijah’s strong body. It wasn’t until Elijah draped his arm over Camden’s waist and tugged them closer together that Camden released the breath he’d been holding. He’d been afraid to openly share this kind of intimacy with Elijah, afraid the ruse would be too painful to bear. But the comfort that enveloped him as Elijah’s heat cocooned them melted any fear that tried to steal the pleasure of the moment.

  Camden took a deep breath as he settled in front of Elijah, letting his warmth chase the chill of fear away. They were in a room full of Elijah’s family, and somehow, this moment, this seemingly benign act of sharing a seat in front of the TV was so intimate. Camden had taken part in a lot of sex in his time. But intimacy wasn’t something he often engaged in, well, except for the times he and Elijah shared together. Both were more than sex, they were intimate, touching Camden in a way he wasn’t prepared for then or now. But as every part of him relaxed into Elijah’s embrace, Camden couldn’t help but realize the shared intimacy of this moment, even as it played out in front of Elijah’s family, didn’t bother him at all. No, the intimacy was perfect. The fear of losing it was what held him on edge.

  ELIJAH kept his eyes closed as his family filed out of the room. He assumed the movie must be over. The truth was, he hadn’t paid attention to the screen since Camden settled in his arms. How could he? Camden was pressed so closely against him that all of Elijah’s focus zeroed in on the heady sensation of having Camden in his arms.

  Camden had fallen asleep during the movie. Elijah had recognized the rhythmic, even breaths causing his chest to expand and contract halfway through the film. Elijah used the opportunity to gather Camden in his arms, squeezing him tighter than necessary. No one would know, and Camden’s heat was so inviting as he pressed himself against Elijah’s body, he couldn’t resist tightening his hold on the man lying in front of him.

  Elijah pretended to sleep too. Having Camden when Elijah was asleep was the only way he could indulge in his need for the man. He was Camden’s protector. Being his lover shouldn’t feel equally important. And yet somehow they both were necessary to Elijah—as if he had to do both.

  He shook the thought from his head and refused to think himself out of the comfort of this moment. They’d shared an amazing moment in the garage. Elijah wasn’t about to sour it by thinking about all the problematic things his job and this case could mean for the attachment blossoming between him and Camden.

  No, he wouldn’t think about the fact that his selfish need to keep Camden close was putting everyone in this house at risk. He refused to acknowledge his job would likely go up in flames when the case was over, all because he couldn’t untangle himself from Camden’s web. And above all, he most certainly would not admit that when this ended, he’d probably lose more than just his job, but his heart too.

  That was too much to ask of any mere mortal. So, for now, he’d enjoy the way Camden’s body molded to his.

  Elijah knew he should wake Camden, and not just because he had no business being cozied up next to him on the couch. His custom couch fit the two of them comfortably, but Elijah’s frame would protest staying in this tight position all night. Rational thought was just about to win out, and Elijah considered waking Camden. But when he pressed himself against Elijah, snuggling in closer to him, he knew they were staying here for the night. Sore back be damned, and regardless of how his rational brain warned him of getting too attached to a man who wasn’t in any position to commit to him, Elijah wouldn’t give this moment up for anything. This was too good to step away from.

  Lying here tonight was a rebirth, even more than the gratifying way they’d shared each other’s bodies earlier in the evening. Here and now, they were getting a do-over. And therein lay the danger. What if this feeling was wrong? What if this was the beginning of nothing more than the end?

  Chapter Twenty

  THE painful pinch of Camden’s bladder pulled him from soothing sleep. He opened his eyes just enough to notice he was in the living room, and not in Elijah’s bedroom as he should be. He went to maneuver himself into a sitting position but met a comforting weight across his abdomen. A quick peek over his shoulder confirmed what his senses already told him. He’d spent the night in the safest place in the world: Elijah’s arms.

  The sensual picture of Elijah stretched out behind him with some of his shoulder-length locs covering his face made Camden yearn to reach out and slide his fingers through them. He smiled as he fought the urge to brush the hair behind Elijah’s ear. Deciding to let the man sleep longer, he slipped Elijah’s hand from around his waist and propped a pillow under it to take his place.

  He made haste to Elijah’s en suite bathroom and relieved himself. A few minutes later he emerged with an empty bladder, a washed face, and fresh breath. As he opened the bedroom door, he found Elijah’s mother standing on the opposite side with her hand poised in the knocking position.

  “There you are, Camden. Is Elijah coming down with you?”

  Camden shook his head. “He’s still sleeping on the couch. I didn’t have the heart to wake him when I came up a few moments ago.” The wide smile that spread across Evelyn’s face made Camden’s lips curve in similar fashion. What was it about Elijah and his people that made Camden comfortable enough to share genuine affection with them? He didn’t know. But whatever it was, Camden was certain he’d miss it when he went back to his regularly scheduled life.

  Evelyn motioned for him to follow her, and because Camden was no fool, he willingly went. They took quiet steps down the staircase. As they eased past the living room, Camden couldn’t help but peek inside to check on Elijah. He smiled at the adorable picture the big man made curled up on the sofa, still hugging the small throw pillow Camden had left in his stead.

  Satisfied with the tranquil view, Camden followed Evelyn into the kitchen and sat at the island as the woman walked to the refrigerator.

  “Do you know how to cook, Camden?”

  Camden raised a skeptical eyebrow as he considered how to best answer Evelyn’s question. “I can make food that’s edible. I wouldn’t necessarily classify that as cooking, however.”

  Camden thought back to when Elijah questioned him about having a maid. Camden conveniently failed to mention his housekeeper cooked for him twice a week. He’d never required Sarah to do it. His work often kept him busy into the late evenings; sometimes he had just enough energy to make it home and sleep. But after having to clean up the remnants of one of his postculinary disasters, Sarah had taken pity on him and offered to prepare him a meal twice a week.

  “After grilled cheese or a sliced meat sandwich, I’m a little out of my depth in the kitchen.”

  Evelyn placed a few covered bowls on the countertop in front of him and spread her hands flat against the hard surface. “Well, if you will spend any significant time around my son, you will need to learn a few things.”

  Camden laughed softly as he shook his head. The image of Elijah trying to struggle through something Camden prepared was amusing enough to make Camden stifle the chuckle that tried to escape through his lips. “I don’t think Elijah needs me trying to cook for him. He seems to know his way around a kitchen, I assume because of you.”

  Evelyn shook her head and granted him the same warm smile she’d given him when they’d first met. It was hard to believe it was only a few days prior, because the dynamic woman standing in front of
Camden felt very much like something permanent in Camden’s life.

  “Elijah learned to cook while he watched his father and me cooking together. My husband worked late hours most days. But during his time off, he’d do whatever he could to make sure we had some quality time together. He’d play with our boys, and then he’d stand next to me in the kitchen, helping me prepare the family meal.”

  Her rounded cheeks rose as memory sparkled in her eyes. Whatever events were unfolding in her mind, he realized they were cherished, something she pulled out frequently to enjoy over the years.

  The joy Camden received watching Evelyn soon began to dissipate as he thought about the lack of memories he and Elijah shared. As of now, they only had two. The night they’d shared back then, and their time in Elijah’s garage apartment last night. Would they be enough for Camden to draw happiness from years down the line when he was trapped in a life not of his own making? Camden’s gut clenched in disappointment. He knew the answer to that question was no.

  Warm fingers stroked the top of Camden’s hand. When he returned his gaze to meet Evelyn’s, sweet reassurance greeted him. “Don’t worry about how well you do it, Camden. The only thing that will matter is your willingness to do it with him.”

  Camden narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what Evelyn was talking about. He understood her words, but he was certain she was educating him on something vital; he just couldn’t figure out what it all had to do with food.

  “So, Elijah will want me to cook for him even if my food isn’t appetizing?”

  Evelyn’s face bloomed into a full smile, and he knew for certain whatever message she was trying to impart had gone right over his head. She didn’t seem bothered by his ignorance, though; instead, the small chuckle of laughter that escaped her lips showed him she possessed far more patience than he would have if their roles had been reversed.

  “I’m not telling you to cook for Elijah. I’m telling you to cook with him. Elijah’s interest in cooking as a child was directly related to watching his father and me laugh and play as we prepared family meals. He understood that preparing food was just another way we took care of each other. We loved each other, so we took care of each other. He wanted to be part of the love we shared with each other.

  “As independent as Elijah is, he always thrives within a team. Whether it’s family, sports, the job, or his friends, Elijah is happiest when he’s part of something that’s bigger than him. Or haven’t you noticed that yet?”

  Camden dropped his eyes in shame. He should know that, and if their act had been authentic, Camden would probably have been able to figure that out for himself. He’d seen it with his own eyes how much lighter Elijah’s mood was after his family had arrived. Those first twelve hours between the two of them had been awkward to say the least. Elijah had growled more than he spoke to Camden, not that Camden’s behavior hadn’t warranted that kind of treatment. But Evelyn was right, things had eased between them once Elijah was surrounded by what was most familiar to him, his family.

  “So, if you will be the man in Elijah’s life, cooking with him is something you must do.”

  Slight panic set in in the middle of Camden’s chest. Yes, things between him and Elijah had taken a decided turn for the better. Yes, they both wanted more than just that one moment in time. But neither of them had concluded precisely what more meant. Elijah’s desire to be with Camden was easy as long as they were in this little cocoon in Westchester. But once they both returned to life in Brooklyn, would Elijah want to take on the battle of wills with Camden’s father? It was too great a deal to ask of one individual. Not to mention, Camden wasn’t certain he deserved that kind of loyalty from Elijah, not after everything he’d put him through.

  “As much as Elijah and I care for each other, we haven’t yet decided on anything regarding our relationship. It’s complicated.”

  Evelyn tipped her head to the side, watching Camden, using what he assumed was her sixth mother’s sense that Elijah had described earlier. Alarm spread through him. He was a trained prosecutor, someone who knew how to read people and keep them from reading him. However, sitting there under this petite woman’s gaze, it was as if she knew all his truths, no matter how he tried to hide them.

  “You young people, always making things more difficult than they need to be.” Evelyn waved a dismissive hand through the air before she leaned down and pulled a cast-iron skillet from the cabinet. She rinsed it, set it on the stovetop, and turned on the range. When she was done, she pulled a platter from another cabinet and set it between them on the island. “The only thing that matters is how you and Elijah feel about each other. All of this complicated stuff isn’t important.”

  Camden lifted a disbelieving brow as he watched her arrange all the items on the counter in the order she preferred. “If you knew what our issues were, I think you might say different, Mrs. Stephenson.”

  Evelyn held her pointer finger into the air and said, “Evelyn, or Mama if you’d prefer.”

  Camden’s mouth hung open in response. Not that he’d have a problem using the term to address Evelyn Stephenson. Her warmth, her concern, made it easy to see mothering was her specialty. He’d known her for just a few days, and she’d soothed him in ways his own mother had never managed to. Yet he still hesitated to take that liberty. No, he couldn’t address her that way when he wasn’t certain if being with Elijah was even a possibility at this point.

  Fortunately for Camden, Evelyn had pulled her gaze from Camden’s face and set about uncovering the bowls she’d placed on the counter, so she didn’t see the way his mouth was hanging open at the moment.

  He shook his head, giving himself a second to compose himself before he spoke again. “Evelyn, Elijah and I have a great deal to work on. No matter how wonderful these last few days have been, they haven’t fixed all the problems Elijah and I have to figure out.”

  The matron gave Camden an easy smile as she leaned forward, placing both her elbows on the counter, bracing her chin on her opened palms. “Did you cheat on my son? Were you abusive to him, emotionally, sexually? Did you put your hands on my baby?”

  Camden shook his head as the questions spilled from the sweet curve of her lips. Her tone was so light and sugary, what you’d expect coming from a loving matriarch. But he could tell by the squint of her eyes she was tuned in, waiting for Camden’s answers.

  “No, Evelyn. Our struggles had nothing to do with any of the things you just mentioned. And in case you’re wondering, those things would never be a concern for Elijah and me.”

  She kept the same inviting smile on her face and nodded her head. “I didn’t think so. But a mother always has to worry, even when her child is the burly protector type.”

  Camden chuckled at her apt description of Elijah. He was big, beautiful, and fierce, in all the best ways, and if there was one thing Camden understood from his interactions with Evelyn Stephenson, it was that her son hadn’t inherited just her smile, but her heart and spirit too.

  “My point about those questions is this, Camden. Those things are deal breakers. Those are the kinds of problems that keep people apart even when they love each other. If your problems aren’t those, then they’re not that complicated at all. As I see it, it just comes down to one thing. How badly do you want it?”

  The question was simple, and yet Camden couldn’t fashion an answer for it. He knew Evelyn had no way of comprehending what sort of obstacles rested in the gap between Camden and Elijah. But somehow the confidence with which she spoke was comforting, like a down throw on a chilly night in front of a fire, the kind of comfort one experienced when they were covered in absolute truth.

  “Camden, my son is there. If you know what signs to look for, it’s easy to tell he’s ready to give you everything. The only problem is, you don’t seem sure of whether you want what he’s offering. If you wanted him to, Elijah would chase you to the ends of the earth. You just have to decide if you want to be caught.”

  She winked an eye
at Camden, then pointed at the bowls on the counter. “Go get yourself an apron out of the pantry. I’m gonna show you how to make salmon croquettes and biscuits for my boy.”

  “I thought you said it didn’t matter if I could cook or not, that Elijah wanted me to cook with him, be part of his team?”

  Evelyn’s body shook with laughter. Even after she composed herself, happiness shone in the depths of her dark brown eyes. “Yes, honey. All of that was true. But what’s also true is that the quickest way to any man’s heart is a good meal he didn’t have to prepare himself. Get on in here so I can show you how to get and keep your man.”

  Not the least bit embarrassed by his eagerness to get to Evelyn’s side, Camden walked around the counter and wrapped his arms around Evelyn in much the same way she’d done to him upon their initial meeting. Hugging it out wasn’t exactly Camden’s modus operandi, but nothing else made sense at the moment. So he stood there, well past the time when it would’ve been polite to release her, and hugged Elijah’s mother like he’d never had the chance to hug his own.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  FAMILIAR scents from his childhood invaded Elijah’s dreams, settling into the happy space where memories of Saturday morning breakfasts with his family were stored. Those moments where his father’s presence filled the house, and how they interacted as a complete unit, defined what family meant to him.

  Those Saturdays began as early as his school days, but Elijah didn’t whine about getting up for them. Once he heard music filling the house, Elijah would jump out of bed, wash his face and brush his teeth, and run down the stairs.

  He could always tell who was cooking by what kind of music he heard playing. His father’s Caribbean roots dictated that fast-paced calypso or the heavy bass of dance-hall reggae would saturate the air. But if he heard old-school R&B or gospel, his mother was at the helm and more than likely making Elijah’s favorite meal.