Kiss Cam (With A Kiss Book 1)

by Anie Michaels

  “You don’t have to worry about me running anymore. Now that I’ve slept with you, I’m not going anywhere.” I winked at him and lucky for me, he smiled at my attempt of a joke. But he also leaned down and kissed me. Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore.

  His tongue swept into my mouth as his hands came to rest on the sides of my neck, thumbs gently moving up and down along the sensitive skin there. I pulled him closer, my hands spread out across his shoulder blades between the cotton of his shirt and the satin of the lining of his suit jacket. I could feel the muscle there. I wanted time to map his body, to use my hands to run over every inch, making notes of all the valleys and hills, letting my fingers and mouth scout the terrain.

  I’d never been with someone I had so much sexual chemistry with, and I was surprised to learn that being attracted to him brought out something new in me. I’d never felt this way before. Sure, I’d wanted to sleep with men before, and had—thank you very much—but I’d never loved the way I felt with anyone the way I did with Camden. Kissing him was hot, but him kissing me was scorching. I loved the way he made me laugh, the way he was open with me, and how his book had been open since day one. So even though we were making out in a parking lot, his hands moving up to the base of my head and positioning me at exactly the right angle so he could absolutely plunder my mouth, it wasn’t just the sex I was falling for—it was the man, too.

  I wanted to stay there all night and let him kiss me silly, but I had to go.

  “I’ll come to you tomorrow night,” I whispered after pulling away from him, missing his lips against mine already.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Eight

  Riley

  Even though I was glad to be moving on from weddings, I was going to miss them. Maybe. But just a little bit. Sure, weddings were stressful, but they were beautiful, too. Watching a bride nervously wait to walk down the aisle, seeing the groom lose his shit and cry tears of happiness as his partner walked toward him, the love radiating between a newly wed couple—it was impossible to walk away from a wedding and not feel a little lovey-dovey.

  In addition, this was the first wedding I’d worked while being in my own relationship. It was all I could do not to daydream about Camden. Sure, they were fantasies set in the distant future, but fantasies nonetheless. What if we ended up getting married one day? Would he look at me like that as I walked down the aisle? Would he hold me that close as we danced our first dance? Would he kiss me tenderly every time someone clinked their knife on their champagne glass?

  I’d always figured I’d get married someday, but the groom always had a blurry face in all my imaginings. Unless you counted the times I imagined myself marrying Justin Timberlake. In that case, his gorgeous face was very defined. But aside from that, marriage and the happily ever after was just a thought bubble, something out of reach and floating above me. But watching that wedding all day only had me thinking of Camden and imagining his face at the altar.

  It was scary admitting to yourself that you might have actually caught the love bug. And also that you might have come down with the sickness in record time.

  I was tired when I left the wedding, but not tired enough to convince myself to go anywhere but Camden’s condo. He’d texted me early that morning to wish me good luck and then I hadn’t heard from him all day—which I kind of appreciated. I had a crazy job and the last thing I needed was someone begging for attention when I didn’t have the time to give it to them. The fact that he knew I was busy and let me work only made me want to see him more. Reverse psychology at its finest.

  When I walked into the lobby of his building I was a little intimidated, remembering how fancy it was and worrying I wouldn’t know how to get to his condo. I was greeted by the same doorman who’d been there before, only this time he spoke.

  “Good evening, miss. How can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Camden Rogers,” I said with false confidence as I adjusted my obvious overnight bag on my shoulder.

  “Perfect,” he replied with practiced politeness. “I’ll need to make a copy of your driver’s license.”

  “Oh,” I replied, surprised. I watched him make a copy of my license and then hand it back to me.

  “This elevator will take you to his suite. Just select the ninth floor.”

  “Thank you.” I gave him a smile and then followed his directions. I let out a sigh when the elevator doors closed behind me, taking one last moment to calm myself before seeing Camden. The deep breath didn’t help because with every floor the elevator rose, so did my nervousness. Something about Camden was overwhelming, and I was practically shaking with anticipation. The elevator slowed to a halt and the doors slid open effortlessly.

  Camden’s condo was mostly dark with a few dim lights on throughout the open floorplan. My eyes were drawn to the big picture window. It was a rare cloudless fall night and the moon illuminated everything in the east. The mountain looked as though it were almost glowing. There weren’t many stars—too many lights for that—but there were all the bridges Portland was famous for, lit, sparkling, and reflected in the river as though it were glass.

  “Hey, you.” I turned toward the sound of his voice, watching as he emerged from the shadows of the hallway. A hallway I’d never been down because the last time I was at his place we’d only made it as far as the kitchen.

  “Hey.” My voice was softer than I anticipated. I wasn’t usually a quiet girl.

  The closer he got the more I could see of him. He was wearing a well-worn pair of light gray sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt. No shoes and stupidly sexy bare feet. I watched his feet, listened to the way they slapped against his hardwood floors until they were only an inch from mine. His naked feet looked silly next to the pointy toes of my high heels. His finger hooked me gently under my chin and I let him pull my face up and met his gaze.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.”

  He leaned in and feathered his lips over mine. It could have very well been the lightest, gentlest, tiniest whisper of a kiss I’d ever had, but it lit me up from head to toe. I wanted that featherlight touch all over my body, wanted those lips to brush against every part of me, multiple times. When he pulled away I was not ready and had to hold back a groan.

  “You must be exhausted,” he said, slipping my bag from my shoulder and then threading his fingers through mine and leading me down the darkened hallway.

  I was until I got here.

  “Do you want to shower or anything before bed?” he asked, taking me into an enormous bedroom. All I could do was gape as I looked around the room, trying to take everything in. His bed was huge, definitely bigger than my full-size mattress, but bigger still because of the massive frame. An incredibly masculine footboard matched the headboard that had big vertical slats. The wood was stained black and the plush bedding was a satiny gray. The bed looked sexy and inviting—a troublesome combination. I wanted to let him do sexy things to me in it, but I also wanted to throw on some comfy pj’s and curl that soft blanket around me, and drift to sleep on a cloud. I’d let him share my cloud too.

  “I don’t think I have enough energy for a shower,” I said, making the final decision; sleep’s call was too loud. Sex would have to wait.

  He put my bag down on his bed, letting my hand go, and pulled out my pajamas.

  Even though his wonderful bed called for comfy pj’s, that wasn’t what I’d been thinking when I packed. Camden held up a tiny, pink, lacy nightgown. Truthfully, when it was on, it hardly covered anything. He eyed it and I watched as his breath pulled in and hissed out. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist around my nightie, then slowly put it back in the bag. Confusion pulled at my face as I watched him walk into what I assumed was either a closet or a bathroom. He came out a few seconds later with a piece of clothing in his hand, holding it out to me.

  “There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep next to you in that tiny lace thing. Wear this, yeah?”

&nb
sp; I took it from him and held it up.

  “Lewis and Clark Law School, huh?” The T-shirt was worn, soft, and exactly what I needed. In fact, I was considering not giving it back.

  “I went to Willamette University for my undergrad, then earned my law degree at Lewis and Clark.” He told me this while he pulled me closer and started stripping off my clothes. I wasn’t incapable, but I definitely didn’t mind the help either.

  “I went to Portland State.” My statement was simple, but I couldn’t help but think about everything it implied. I attended a state school while he earned two degrees from very private and very expensive colleges.

  “I applied there,” he said nonchalantly as he pulled my blouse over my head.

  “You’re a few years older. I don’t think we would have overlapped.”

  He unbuttoned my trousers, pulled the zipper down, and let them pool at my feet, all while looking into my eyes.

  “Good thing, too. I would not have been able to concentrate on school if you’d been around.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, but it was a new kind of kiss, not like all the others we’d shared. The kiss was content. It felt as though he was kissing me because he was grateful I was with him, not expecting it to lead to anything or move forward in any way. A kiss just because.

  He broke from me and leaned down to pull off my heels and my pants.

  “How in the world do you walk around all day in these?”

  “That’s a secret known only by women and drag queens,” I said, smiling down at him. I rested a hand on his shoulder for balance as he lifted my feet, one by one, removing my shoes and pants. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  He stood and walked behind me. I felt his fingers at my back as he unhooked my bra. The light brush of his skin against mine caused all kinds of goose bumps to appear. I rolled my shoulders forward, letting my bra fall to the floor with the rest of my clothes. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of my shoulder right before he slipped the shirt over my head. It was all I could do to keep myself from gathering the material between my hands, bringing it to my nose, and inhaling deeply. I could smell him, his scent woven into the fabric from years of use.

  Nope.

  I was keeping the shirt.

  And never washing it.

  “Come on,” he said quietly, taking my hand again and leading me through the other door. The en suite bathroom was beautiful. Well, as beautiful as a bathroom could be. It was all white marble and porcelain, and again with the gray accents. He stepped up to the counter and pulled open a drawer, producing a brand-new toothbrush. He held it out to me and I took it, smiling.

  “I brought my own toothbrush,” I said with a laugh.

  “That’s nice,” he said, pulling toothpaste from the same drawer and applying it to his own toothbrush. “But now you can leave that one here and you’ll always have one.”

  Always?

  My heart could not take promises of eternity and dental hygiene equipment. I was too tired for that.

  I took the package and opened it, tossing the trash in the garbage, and brushed my teeth standing next to Camden, our eyes meeting in the mirror. It was weird and intimate and wonderful all at the same time. I couldn’t think of another time when I’d brushed my teeth with someone. Not since high school slumber parties.

  It was also educational as I learned that Camden was a spitter. It had never occurred to me that there were people who spit every ten seconds while brushing their teeth, but he did. And he grinned at me every time.

  “You sure spit a lot,” I said as we rinsed our mouths.

  “And I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t.”

  I caught the smile creeping across his face, like a teenage boy saying something dirty and hoping his mother didn’t catch on. Well, I was nobody’s mother.

  “Don’t let that give you any ideas,” I teased.

  He laughed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Babe, I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t get extremely vivid and detailed ideas after that.” He bent down and gave me a minty kiss, then said, “You finish up in here and I’ll meet you in bed.”

  I watched him leave, my tired body not immune to the way his ass looked in sweatpants. He closed the door behind him and I let out a sigh.

  “Riley, what in the world have you gotten yourself into?” I asked the question of my own reflection, but I didn’t have an answer to give.

  A few minutes later I headed back into the bedroom and walked toward the huge bed that now had a shirtless Camden lounging in it.

  “Do you work out?” I asked, my filter obviously equally as tired as I was. Okay, I’ll admit, I don’t really have a filter.

  He laughed at my forward question. “I do, in fact. There’s a gym downstairs. I can take you down there tomorrow if you’d like.”

  “Gyms aren’t really my thing,” I said with half a shrug as I climbed into the bed. “I don’t want to assume I’ll be spending a lot of time here or anything, but if this becomes a normal, regular thing, I’m going to have to request one of those sets of stairs for small dogs. Climbing into this bed is like scaling a mountain.” I slid between the silky sheets and satiny blanket, wondering how something that felt so luxurious and smooth kept anybody warm at night.

  I didn’t even wait for an invitation, I simply slid right over to Camden and snuggled myself in the little crook made in men’s sides for women. My hand draped over his abdomen, my cheek rested on his chest, and I was comfortable as hell.

  “I also hope that you having an enormous bed didn’t mean you wanted me on the other side of it. I’m kind of a snuggler.”

  He laughed, and the sound vibrated through his chest and into my ear. His arm tightened around me, pressing me even closer to him, and a content sigh slipped out of me. I felt his mouth against the top of my head and smiled sleepily as he kissed my hair.

  “I missed you,” he whispered. “And it’s crazy because I hardly know you. But I do know I want you here, in my bed, and right next to me.”

  “Same goes.” My words were slurred, everything fading away. “Sleepy time now.” He laughed again, but that time it sounded softer.

  The next thing I heard were the telltale sounds of raindrops slamming into window panes. But the sound was different than I was used to. Waking up to rain wasn’t uncommon in Portland, but I usually heard it on my roof, above me. This sound was coming from another room and sounded farther away. I stretched before I peeped my eyes open and my hands ran into warm flesh.

  I looked over and saw Camden’s muscular back facing me, stretching every few moments with his even breaths. Even asleep he was perfect.

  I rolled toward him until my face was right between his shoulder blades, and rested my forehead against him for a moment, loving the way the heat of his body warmed me.

  “Morning.” His voice was groggy from sleep, but sexy too, all raspy and deep.

  “Morning,” I replied, kissing his back and sliding a hand over his hip. I felt him still at my touch, and my still-sleepy mind couldn’t comprehend if he was going still in a good or bad way, so I pulled back. In hindsight, this might have been a stupid move, but I’d always argue that point because mere seconds later I was flat on my back and Camden was over me, his too-long hair crazy and falling over his eyes.

  “Sleep well?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” His eyes wandered down my body, which was mostly covered, but I couldn’t help but think of what my face looked like. I was so tired the night before I hadn’t washed my makeup off, and I was sure there were raccoon eyes happening all over the place. “I think I want you wearing my T-shirt all the time.”

  Warmth bloomed in my chest at his words, and my hands came to rest on either side of his waist.

  “I was thinking of stealing it and taking it home with me. But if I have your permission to take it, I’ll have to swipe something else.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you a kleptomaniac?”

  “No?” I tried to keep a straight face,
but when the sides of his mouth curled into a grin, I broke and laughed. My laughter slowed when his hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, his hands warm against my skin. Without taking his eyes from mine he inches my shirt up higher, taking his time, building the anticipation. When his thumb skimmed the sensitive flesh right below my nipple, I gasped, my back arching without permission, willing me closer.

  His eyes were steady on mine, never wavering as his thumb swept closer and closer to the peak of my breast, teasing me in the best way possible. I panted, holding my breath every time he inched closer, then exhaling as he retreated.

  “Please,” I heard myself beg. A new smirk formed on his lips as he contemplated my request. Slowly his eyes disappeared as he lowered his face to my chest. He used his mouth the same way he’d been using his thumb—to tease me. He pressed openmouthed kisses all over my breast, except for the one place that was aching for attention. He kissed, nibbled, and even bit, making me gasp. His mouth worshiped my breast as his hand came to cup the underside, holding it to his mouth, obliterating my senses and holding my pleasure captive, not giving me what I wanted.

  Finally, his mouth latched on to my nipple and he sucked ravenously, all the while using his hand to squeeze my breast with just enough pressure to completely undo me.

  Surely I couldn’t have an orgasm from breast play, right?

  I was beginning to think it was altogether possible, and felt myself creeping closer and closer, when both his mouth and hand abandoned me, leaving the skin of my breast chilled as the air hit my wet flesh. My eyes snapped open, wondering what he would do next, and I was surprised to see him climbing off the bed. It was then I noticed a faint tune in the background.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, when I really wanted to ask him why he’d stopped and demand he return his talented mouth to my nipple at once.

  “It’s my phone,” he answered distractedly.