10 Years Later

by J. Sterling

  “You look beautiful, Cammie,” I whispered against her hair, and breathed her in as my pants immediately tightened.

  Being a guy had only a few downfalls; the complete lack of control when it came to our dicks was one of them. I didn’t want to let her go, but knew that I needed to before something either pressed against her thigh, or she thought I was a lunatic who couldn’t keep his hands off her. Not that I wanted to. My hands belonged all over that body.

  “Thank you. You look really good yourself,” she said, but her voice sounded off. It was too chipper, too forced.

  “Dalton, dude! Where have you been?”

  A guy I couldn’t place interrupted us, and as I glanced around the room at all of the people, I realized that if I wanted to talk to Cammie at all, I would have to get her the hell out of here.

  I looked back at the guy and shook his hand. “I’ve been in New York. I’ll come talk to you in a bit; I want to catch up with Cammie first.”

  He looked between us and raised his beer. “Oh, sorry. Okay. Come find me.”

  “Still so popular.” She smiled, and I resisted the urge to cover her red lips with mine. Being near her was like being near a warm pool of water. I wanted to dive right in and let her completely engulf me.

  “Cammie, I—” I started to say when I heard my name being repeated through the speaker system.

  “Dalton Thomas, come say a few words, please. You were our class president. Get up here! It’s your duty.”

  I looked at Cammie and pulled at my hair, making my annoyance perfectly clear. “Shit, Cammie, I’m sorry. Don’t go anywhere. Promise me you won’t go anywhere,” I pleaded, not caring how desperate I sounded. This was my one chance to get on the right foot with her, and I refused to blow it.

  “Go. Say good shit.” She winked as she patted my shoulder.

  “Promise you won’t leave,” I demanded, refusing to move from her side until she did. I didn’t want to give a fucking speech to my old classmates. The only speech I wanted to give was to the girl currently standing in front of me, and I didn’t have anything written down.

  “I won’t go anywhere,” she said, and I swear I saw a flicker of something in her eyes.

  “You gotta promise me, Cammie.”

  She gave me a big smile, a genuine one, and my whole world fell into place. “I promise.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said as I reluctantly walked away from her and made my way to the front of the room where Lisa Reynolds stood with a cordless microphone. She gave me a hug and whispered something inappropriate in my ear before shoving the mic into my hand.

  Feeling awkward as hell, I held the mic in front of me and cleared my throat. “Uh, well, I wasn’t expecting to have to give a speech tonight, but I get it. Presidential duties have no statute of limitations, I’m told. First of all—”

  I searched the room for Cammie’s face. As soon as I found her hazel eyes, I locked on them and started talking.

  “I’m really sorry I’m late. Secondly, I just wanted to thank you for coming. I know that none of us had to be here. It was a choice, an option, but I’m glad you chose to come because I came here to see you too. I’ve missed you. And, uh . . .”

  I stumbled on my words as Cammie’s expression softened and her smile widened. I looked away; I had to.

  “That’s it. Have a good time tonight. Don’t drink and drive; I’d hate to have to arrest you.” I smirked before shoving the microphone back at Lisa and making a beeline straight back to the girl I came here for.

  “Cute speech,” Cammie said in a teasing tone. Her tone had lightened, grown more comfortable in those few minutes, and I was grateful. “So you’re a cop?”

  I nodded, wondering what her reaction would be. A thousand thoughts raced through my brain as I waited for her to say something else. Me being a cop might throw her, and I was well aware that she might not be okay with it.

  “I can see that.” Her lips pressed together as her eyes focused somewhere over my shoulder, and I could see her mind drifting. “It suits you.”

  “How so?” I asked, finding myself hoping that she would say good and complimentary things. Fuck it if I didn’t need a little ego stroking from her right about now.

  “Well, you were always great with people, and you were a good leader. And you were always a stand-up guy. So it makes sense that you would want to be one of the good ones.”

  I wanted to tell her that I’d chosen that career path because of her. She had just given me the perfect lead-in, but I’d be damned if I’d have this conversation with her in the middle of a crowded ballroom with cheesy old school music playing in the background. No, confessions like this needed privacy.

  I stepped a little closer and leaned forward to ask, “Cammie, can we go somewhere and talk? I’d really like to tell you some things.”

  She looked down at her shoes before glancing over at her best friend. Kristy wasn’t looking at either of us, and when Cammie’s eyes met mine again, she pursed her lips before saying, “Sure.”

  I reached for her hand and interlaced my fingers with hers. Feeling her soft hand in mine sent spasms of want shooting through my body. I pulled her through the crowd and out the ballroom doors, ignoring the pleas of old classmates who called out, asking us to stop and chat.

  Frustrated, I had no idea where to take her. Looking to the left and the right, I noticed a sign with an arrow pointing the direction toward the hotel bar and restaurant. Figuring that everyone who wanted to talk to either of us was in the ballroom or immediately in front of it, I decided to head to the restaurant. When my grip on her tightened, Cammie didn’t try to pull her hand from mine, and I read into that as if my life depended on it.

  The restaurant was dark and empty. I pulled on the door to test anyway, ignoring the Closed sign that stood in front of it. Not believing my awful luck, I yanked once more, but it was locked up tight.

  “I think it’s closed,” Cammie said with a laugh.

  “You would have done the same thing,” I said lightly.

  “Touché.”

  Realizing that my only other option seemed to be the bar, I groaned to myself before moving in that direction, Cammie still in hand. Literally. Once inside the dimly lit and tiny-as-fuck place, I mentally took inventory of our options. Seeing a single high-top table in the far corner of the room, furthest from the door, I tugged Cammie in that direction. When I let go of her hand, she immediately took the seat that faced the entrance of the bar, leaving her back against a wall.

  I fidgeted, wondering for a moment how to go about this.

  “Why aren’t you sitting?” Her face crinkled with confusion, and she looked so damn adorable I had to fight back the urge to lean in and kiss her.

  Everything in me was fighting against itself as I looked at the waiting empty chair. Just sit the fuck down, I tried to order my body, but my legs refused.

  “Dalton? Are you okay?”

  Running a hand through my hair, I looked behind me one last time before I met Cammie’s concerned eyes. “It’s just, well, I can’t have my back facing an entrance. It’s sort of a—”

  Her eyes wide, she interrupted me before jumping up from her seat. “It’s a cop thing. I remember. Here, you take this one.” She hopped into the other chair, leaving her back exposed and vulnerable without a care in the world.

  “I’m sorry.” I apologized, embarrassed because I knew it seemed irrational to most people, but I’d been trained at the police academy to always sit facing a room’s entrance. It was drilled into me to be aware of a threat the moment it appeared, and not be taken surprise by it. If there were multiple entrances to a room, I made note of where they were and did my best to sit in the least vulnerable position, my gaze always moving.

  My training didn’t simply disappear once I was off the clock. It was something that had become a part of me and a part of my life. Dalton and Dalton-the-undercover-cop meshed more than I liked sometimes, and I couldn’t help it.

  “Don’t be sorr
y. My dad used to do the same thing.” Her voice softened as she mentioned her father, and I wondered how affected she still was by what had happened to him.

  “Did he?” I asked, wanting to open this door. I needed this segue, and she offered it up to me again.

  She averted her eyes, looking past me at the wall. “Everywhere we went. I can’t believe I sat there. I would have never done that if he—” She stopped, her eyes returning to meet mine, and I wanted to hold her, kiss her, and tell her everything would be okay.

  “It’s been a long time, Cammie. It’s okay to sit there now,” I said. “I mean, obviously not right now now, ’cause I’m here.” I stammered, my words not coming out as cool and collected as I wanted them to, and she giggled into her hand as she covered her mouth. “Ah, shit. You know what I mean.”

  She looked over at me, her eyes glistening a little. “I know it’s been almost twelve years, but sometimes it feels like it just happened. You know?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t. I’ve never gone through something like that. But I can imagine you’d never truly get over it.”

  “You don’t. It’s always there and the second you forget, something pops up to remind you. Stupid things like a scene in a TV show, or a song on the radio, or those damn bridal shows that are on all the time.” Her voice got quiet as she drifted off into her own thoughts.

  I reached across the small table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Hey, stay with me,” I said, needing her attention so I could get everything off my chest.

  “I can’t believe you’re here right now,” she said softly. “I can’t believe we’re here right now.”

  “I came here for you,” I admitted, putting it all out on the line. Ten long years had passed, and I refused to waste another moment of it.

  She pulled her hand from mine as she inhaled a shaky breath. “For me?”

  “Yes, Cammie. For you,” I repeated. Let there be no confusion, Miss Carmichael, I will not be letting you get away this time.

  “Dalton! Dude! Where the hell have you been? No Facebook, no nothing! We’ve missed you.” Rob Jenkins sauntered up to our table, slurring his words and knocking the cocktail napkins off of the table.

  “Hey, Rob. I’ve been in New York. And Facebook’s stupid.” I winked at Cammie before smirking.

  “No, man,” he started to say before steadying himself by gripping the back of Cammie’s chair. “Facebook’s awesome! Everyone from high school’s on there, and all the girls are so hot.” He turned and breathed in Cammie’s face, his lips way too close for my liking.

  “Too bad the guys aren’t,” Cammie shot back, and I laughed.

  “Ah, Cammie baby, that was just mean,” Rob whined, then lurched even closer to her, if that was possible.

  I pushed out of my chair and stepped next to him. “All right, Rob, back off. Cammie and I are trying to talk, so why don’t you head back into the ballroom and find your friends.” I smiled to soften my words and gave him a friendly shove in the chest away from our table.

  He frowned and lifted his hands in defeat. “All right, all right. I’m going,” he said before stumbling away.

  “Drunk guys are super fun.” Cammie winced as I moved to sit back down.

  “About as fun as drunk girls.” I turned my head in the direction of the bar, which was slowly filling up with our classmates, who continually eyed our table.

  “I have a room,” Cammie said out of nowhere as she held up a blue key card.

  “Here? At the hotel?” I stammered. This damn girl made me nervous. I was confident in everything in my life, but this person sitting in front of me turned me into a blubbering teenager all over again.

  “No, at the hotel across the street,” she said with that sassy mouth, and I wanted to take control of it with my own. “Of course I have a room here.”

  “Are you trying to seduce me, Cammie Carmichael? Because, um, I haven’t seen you in like a hundred years and—” I broke off my teasing when I noticed two girls stumbling our way with giant grins on their faces and drinks spilling over onto their hands. “Just fucking around. Let’s get out of here.”

  Cammie glanced behind her and noticed the girls before jumping down from her chair and accepting my hand again. “No funny business, Mr. Thomas.” She pointed a finger at me.

  What the hell determined what was and wasn’t funny business, I pretended to ponder, because I wanted to do it all. I was about to have Cammie all to myself, the one thing I’d been wanting more than anything else for years.

  The question was—what the hell was I going to tell her first? My mind flashed back to the one football game when I’d lost my nerve to confess my true feelings. I refused to let that happen again tonight . . .

  • • •

  Sitting in the stands at the football game with my buddies, I’d watched as Cammie sat with Kristy and a few other girls from the softball team, her long dark hair blowing in the night breeze. Usually I missed all the Friday night games because of work, but I’d been given tonight off for some odd reason. All her friends had laughed at something that was said, except for her. She’d given them a half smile, not even a full one, and it had fucking ripped me open to see her like that.

  When Cammie stood up, I watched as she shook her head and put her hand up to stop anyone from going with her. She moved through the crowd and walked down the noisy bleachers until she got to the bottom. I jumped up, fed my buddies some bullshit line, and searched for her.

  “Cammie,” I called out as soon as I saw her near the brick building that housed the bathrooms.

  She turned. “Hey, Dalton. Not working tonight?”

  I shook my head. “I got it off,” I said before realizing it sounded like I asked for the night off to come to the game.

  She glanced around at the field, the stadium, and the few other people who milled about nearby. “That’s nice. You usually miss all the games.”

  “Yeah. I do.” Why couldn’t I say anything worth a shit right now? She had to think I was a complete idiot.

  “Well, I need to go to the bathroom, so maybe I’ll see you later?”

  “Okay.”

  I stood there, not moving a muscle as she disappeared into the restroom. Ever since the night of the senior dinner, I had wanted to kiss her again. My mind had that kiss on repeat, and it replayed far too often. I needed more kisses to pull from, so I planned on waiting for Cammie to come back out, even if it took all night.

  Thankfully, it didn’t. When she caught sight of me still standing where she left me, a small smile played on her lips as she wiped her hands on the hips of her jeans.

  “They’re out of paper towels. And you’re still here.”

  “I am,” I said before grabbing her still-damp hand and pulling her toward the back of the building.

  The stadium lighting didn’t reach that far so we stood there alone, surrounded by nothing but darkness and shadows. I reached for her face and held it gently between my palms before leaning in and tasting her lips. She moaned softly against my mouth, and even though I was inexperienced when it came to the opposite sex, I recognized that Cammie ignited a fire in me that refused to be extinguished. The way she tasted made me want to experience her in ways I’d only fantasized about.

  Her fingers twisted in my hair at the nape of my neck, and I groaned as she tugged. “Careful, Cammie. You might awaken the beast.” To be honest, I had no idea what the fuck I was even saying, but it sounded convincing enough. Hell, even I was convinced.

  She pulled back slightly. “The beast, huh?” she said with a laugh before biting at my bottom lip and pulling it into her mouth. Her tongue played against it, alternating between licking and sucking, and in that moment I realized that the “beast” wasn’t even a part of me. It was Cammie, and she was awake, all right.

  Even without her turning me on like the hormonal teenage boy I was, I knew that I liked her. Really liked her. And I wanted to tell her just how much, but I couldn’t find the words. The idea of her rejecting
me stopped me cold from admitting anything to her. I was pretty sure she just liked messing around with me, and that was the extent of it. And if that were true, I didn’t want to know it.

  So instead of asking her how she felt or admitting my feelings, I’d kissed her again. And then I’d pretended like that was enough.

  No Funny Business

  Cammie

  Dalton Thomas and I stood in an elevator headed toward my room on the tenth floor. And he was holding my hand.

  HE

  WAS

  HOLDING

  MY

  HAND!

  I pinched myself once to make sure this wasn’t some sort of cruel dream that I’d be forced to wake up from.

  It wasn’t.

  This was really happening.

  His hand was a little rough, the hands of a man who didn’t work in an office, and I found myself enjoying the way it felt in mine a little too much. I forced myself to keep my fingers still, resisting the urge to rub my thumb along the length of his the way a couple in love would.

  When the elevator dinged, I stepped off first and pulled him in the direction of my room. I assumed that Kristy would still be at the reunion as I slipped the key inside the card reader and it turned green, but I peeked in and checked for her just in case.

  “Who are you looking for?” Dalton’s brows pulled together.

  “Kristy. We’re sharing a room.”

  “Got it. I think she’s still downstairs,” he added with a smirk, and I wanted to get on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his slightly scruffy cheek. Even in my high heels, Dalton’s six-foot-two-inch frame still towered over mine.

  “I was just making sure,” I said as I pulled my hand from his and looked around the small hotel room, wondering where the heck we could sit. Making my way toward one of the beds, I kicked off my high heels before plopping down and scooting all the way back so that I was pressed against the plush headboard. I bent my knees and pulled my feet under me, tugging at my dress to be sure it covered my lady bits as I moved.

  “Sorry, there really isn’t anywhere else to sit,” I said, wondering if he would sit on the bed across from me or next to me.