Staying For You

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

  “No. I’m going to let you walk up the stairs yourself because I don’t trust myself not to drop you right now.”

  Without hesitation, she shoves me behind her and shouts, “Race ya!”

  I chase after her and think it won’t be the last time I do.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cami

  I’m breathing hard by the time I push through the door to his apartment above the lodge. Laughing and so damn turned on I can hardly see straight. For three days my fingers typed out the start of a new book. I finished over half of it in less time than it usually takes me to type out a few chapters. I wanted a muse, some inspiration — and boy did I get it.

  I woke up the morning after Owen and I sat on the couch in my cabin eating sandwiches and crunching on chips feeling more relaxed than I had in years. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and not just because I couldn’t stop picturing the look on Owen’s face when he saw how many heavy blankets I use at night.

  I was able to send Gretchen the manuscript for her to read through because even though I felt like I was spot on and writing magic, I knew it would help to hear what Gretchen thought of what I’d written so far.

  It took forever for my hot spot on my phone to send it out. Within thirty minutes I’d gotten a text from Gretchen.

  Gretchen: OMG! You had sex, didn’t you?

  Me: Uh, what?

  Gretchen: That’s the only explanation for the fact that you’re writing like yourself again. You and your vagina are back on track.

  Gretchen: Wait just a hot minute. And I mean hot. Because I just looked up where you are and if you’re having sex with that lumberjack who owns the resort I might have to not like you much anymore because holy crap.

  I didn’t go into detail with her that I hadn’t had sex but did make sure to let her know.

  Me: He is definitely sexy.

  Gretchen: You can’t see me, but I’m shimmying and giddy. And I’m going back to reading because this, my friend, is amazing.

  Me: You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.

  Gretchen: Yes, I do. And I mean it.

  I couldn’t stop smiling or sit still. I walked around outside for about ten minutes before I whispered, “Screw it,” then marched up to the lodge without a second thought.

  And boy am I glad I did.

  Owen didn’t hesitate to wrap me back up in his arms once we reached the top of the stairs, but this time, tossing me over his shoulder and charging through his living room, down the short hallway, and directly into his bedroom. He told me to watch my head, flipped me over and I landed with a flop on the bed.

  The scent of Owen overwhelms me in the best way possible. I want to immediately turn over and bury my face in his bed — which is neatly made.

  He’s still standing and I watch in fascination — and a little bit of jealousy that I’m not the one doing it — as he rips the buttons from his shirt as he tears it off him. Jealousy gone.

  His body.

  Whoa.

  I’ve never seen anything like it. I sit up on my elbows, staring, probably drooling a little bit and…

  “What the hell?!” I shout and point.

  He startles, looks down and all around him. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “That!”

  “It’s not okay?”

  “Oh, screw you. You know exactly what you’re doing with that… that… my goodness, Owen. What the hell?!”

  “Would you like to clue me in here on what the problem is?”

  “You look like that! And I…”

  He rushes over to me and soon I’m on my back, hair fanned out all around me and my hands around his waist, legs spread to make room for him. “Don’t even finish what you’re about to say. You feel this?” He presses himself against me and does a little hip twist that has my eyes widening. “This is because you look like you do, talk the way you do, and act the way you do. This? It’s because of you. If I could meet your ex, I’d first shake his hand for being such a dumb shit that he let you go. But then I would kick his ass for making you believe you’re anything less than incredible. You. Are. Gorgeous. And I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since you walked into McDonald’s and smiled that smile.”

  Anything else is forgotten. The fact that my ex-husband told me I was chubby as a term of endearment, that before he walked out of our house for the last time, he said he had to use Viagra to get it up for me. Years and years and insult after insult are washed away in one fell swoop. Owen sees me as someone desirable and I haven’t felt that in ages.

  And then I become mortified for an entirely different reason than I was earlier.

  I burst into tears, and quickly cover my face by turning to the side and pressing it into his mattress.

  “Hey,” he whispers. “Hey. Hey. Cami, what’s going on? What did I say?”

  “Everything,” I cry out, crying harder than I already was, which is shocking because I’m weeping.

  “Sweetheart, look at me.”

  I shake my head, face still planted in his covers. The tears are coming so fast. So furiously that I can’t even enjoy the fact that I’m lying in Owen’s bed, surrounded by all that is him.

  Gently, he nudges my shoulder and tilts my head. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

  Unfortunately, that only makes me cry harder because he shouldn’t be apologizing and I feel like crap for making him feel like crap. Maybe it’s close to my time of the month. That would help explain my ramped up hormones.

  “It’s not you,” I finally squeak out.

  Owen moves so he’s lying next to me, his arm draped over my waist under my shirt. The act isn’t sexual but rather comforting. We’re facing each other and he taps the place where his hand is resting on my hip. I squeeze my eyes closed tight then open to see him staring at me with empathy.

  “Caring is sharing, you know.”

  “It’s not you,” I repeat.

  “Memories?”

  I nod and his hand slides from over my hip, up my side with a little boob graze along the way until his thumb is on the apple of my cheek. “Beat those memories back for me, can you do that? Be here with me, you get me? Whatever is going through your mind, I’ll help you forget it.”

  His words finally click and rather than letting them overwhelm me, I let them overwhelm me. Because it’s exactly what I needed to hear. I’m more than the words of my past and it’s finally time to realize it. He’s amazing and gorgeous and he wants me. Me. Not my money or my success or the home or cars or things that I can provide because of it.

  Rather than telling him my understanding, I show him. Pull his head down. Kiss his face. Everywhere I can, I kiss him and show him that I get it.

  He rolls so he’s on top of me, looks down into my eyes then slams his lips to mine. Gone is the sadness, replaced entirely by a hunger that will only be satisfied by each other. Even in the beginning, it was never like this with Scott. He never made me feel like I needed to come out of my skin when I was around him.

  I’m burning up so I start wiggling, trying to stay close but yet, I have to remove clothes before I burst into flames. Bless him, he understands, and raises up so he can help tug off my shirt. I expect him to stare but his mouth seems as attached to mine as mine is to his because he continues kissing me. Our hands are between us fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans and waistband of my leggings. I almost groan when I can’t get out of them as quickly as I’d like. Damn comfortable pants! Why must they cling to me!

  I huff, irritated. “Help,” I whimper pathetically. Owen’s answering grin, though, is worth it. He stands up, quickly shucks out of his jeans and kicks them out of his way, pulls off my fuzzy socks then wraps his hands around the bottom of my leggings and tugs. I raise my hips to help him out and as soon as they’re all the way off, he tosses them behind him, bends down and removes his own socks, and pushes down his boxer briefs.

  He’s naked.

  Completely naked.

  I haven’t seen a naked man
in so long.

  My body is humming with excitement. Fingers itching to touch every inch and mouth watering to taste every. single. inch. Before, that was something I rarely felt inclined to do. It felt like a duty. I found no enjoyment and frankly, the act was never returned. Now, though, it’s a desire.

  I was hungry earlier.

  Now I’m starved.

  Scrambling to sit up, I get to my knees and place my hands on his thighs, sliding my palms around the back, up so I get a good handful of his tight butt and squeeze. I lean over, kiss his stomach just below his belly button. His hands find the back of my head, holding me close. I rub my nose against his skin. It’s smooth with only a bit of hair on his chest with a line down the center of his stomach.

  Tilting my head back, I look in his eyes, continuing to kiss a path around his waist while sliding a hand around him and wrapping it around his hard length. And he is. Hard, already. And lengthy. And… let’s just say, he’s bigger than I’ve experienced and my stomach flutters in anticipation.

  I twist, pump, thumb sliding over the tip and he groans, fingers clenching and tightening in my hair. He allows me to play for only a few minutes before he’s pushing me onto the bed.

  “We don’t want this to be over with too soon, now do we?”

  “Quick shooter?” I ask, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

  “Brat.” He bends low, kissing me on the lips then makes a trail down my cheek, jawline, neck… down, down, down. I can feel him hard against my thigh and it makes me squirm. I want him there so badly. I know he won’t give it to me yet, though. I know he’s on a mission to show me I’m more than just quick sex. So I give in. Letting him do his thing because, really, it’s not a burden. Not even a little bit.

  His tongue swirls around my nipple and his finger and thumb pinch the other.

  I’m panting and moaning and crying out words that I don’t think make any sense. Apparently I speak in tongues now. And he’s only touched my breasts.

  Now his fingers are curling around my underwear and he’s looking at me for permission. My head might pop right off my neck with how fast I’m nodding.

  He chuckles, sliding lower. Before I even realize it, I’m bared to him. He could have spun my underwear on his finger above me and I wouldn’t have known it because I’m so distracted.

  “Oh my gosh, Owen. You’re killing me here,” I groan, wanting his tongue on me and not wanting it at the same time. I know. I know I’ll never be the same after he has me. And not just tasting me. But once he enters me, it’ll be the point of no return.

  “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

  And then he’s on me. Licking and swiping and sucking and fingers curling inside me and… “Oh my gosh!” I cry out then cry out some more because he does this thing with his mouth where he sucks in just the right place and with the perfect amount of… well, suction… and then he adds a thumb on my clit and “OH MY GOSH!” I scream out this time when I orgasm embarrassingly fast.

  He lightens the pressure as I come down from the highest high I’ve ever been on.

  “Holy crap,” I pant.

  “That was incredible.”

  “You’re telling me.” I giggle and cover my eyes with my hand. “Holy crap,” I repeat. “That took you like no time at all.”

  “Good thing we have all night then.”

  “Yeah. Good thing.”

  He kisses his way back up my body and rests his forearms on either side of my head. Bends down, kisses me so I taste myself. It quickly turns heated, just like everything between us.

  I buck my hips and he gets the picture, rolling to his back and bringing me right along with him.

  Because the memory is ingrained in my head, I repeat what he did to me. Well, almost everything. I kiss and lick and play, paying special attention to the fun little grooves in his stomach that are so fascinating that I hang around them a little more than I originally intended. Especially when I notice how turned on it makes him as well.

  His hands are fisting the comforter, legs rigid and his breaths are coming in heavy and short.

  Best of all, I can feel him growing even harder against my chest. Which reminds me how much I wanted to taste him. Rather than hesitate, I regrettably leave his stomach and wrap my hand around the base and slide my mouth around the tip, suck, slide my lips down and… “ohmygosh,” I mumble because I thought it was fun before and now it’s even better.

  My eyes roll in the back of my head when he reaches the back of my throat and his hands move to my hair again, wrapping it around his fist and grips tightly.

  “Holy shit, Cami.”

  I feel like I could run a marathon from the pride pumping through my veins.

  I’m doing this to him.

  Me.

  He’s this amazing and incredible man. Sexy and strong and kind. And he’s about to lose control.

  He taps my shoulder and whispers my name.

  I’ve never taken this job to completion before and honestly, as much as I want to taste him, I’m not quite brave enough for it to happen now.

  So rather, I let him go but keep my hand moving things right along before he explodes on his stomach.

  Chest heaving up and down.

  Eyes squeezed closed and back arched.

  It’s beautiful.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Owen

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” I admit when I come back to the bed after cleaning up. But really, it’s not my fault that she has a magical mouth and hands.

  “You lasted a minute and fourteen seconds longer than I did.”

  I bark out a laugh, lie back, and hold her close. I rub her back, her body turned to me with her breasts pressed against my side and her thigh draped over mine. It’s intimate and I can’t say a single bad thing about it.

  I’m actually a little impressed that I lasted as long as I did. It was a test, for sure. She’s so pretty. Smells so lovely. Feels so amazing.

  I could easily see myself falling and I don’t know her that well.

  Which is going to change.

  After I get the energy because apparently, I’m a ten minute guy and that’s all I’ve got in me before I need a nap.

  It could be that I spent the last three days working my ass off so I wouldn’t barge through Cami’s door. And now, I’m equally glad and pissed that I didn’t do just that.

  Glad because the build up made what just happened bigger and better than I imagined.

  Pissed because… well, I wasted three precious days where I could have been doing what just happened if I’d have barged through that door.

  Good thing is, we have weeks ahead of us where we can continue. And I plan on using every one of those weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds reminding her of how good we are together.

  “You timed it, huh?”

  “Nah. But it sounded good, right?”

  Laughing, I tickle her side and she twists beneath me. Cami tilts her chin so she’s looking at me and I kiss the tip of her nose.

  “Hungry?”

  “Starved,” she says, breathless.

  “For food?”

  Pouting, she slumps in my arms even though we’re lying down. “But…”

  “After I feed you. And we talk.”

  “No more talking,” she groans. “You’re good with just sex. I’m good with just sex. I have to go back to Tennessee at some point but we are attracted to each other and we want this. We’re good, right?”

  We’re attracted to each other? Is that all she thinks? Because it’s more than attraction for me.

  “I can tell that you’re worried, but truly, this is what we can both offer right now, right? You like your space and privacy. I need to give my heart time to heal before I jump into anything else. We like each other so let’s have some fun.”

  I lie quietly, looking back and forth between her blue eyes that are so happy and content and think she’s right. I want to get to know her, but as far as talking over our expectations once aga
in, maybe it’s easier to just let it be. We’re on the same page and that’s what matters.

  “How about talking about yourself, then?”

  She groans and covers her face. “That’s worse!”

  We both laugh and I pull away her hands so I can see her. “I have no doubt that whatever I learn about you will be interesting and I’ll beg for more.”

  She blows out a breath and her body relaxes. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me feel… all this.”

  I get it even though she didn’t explain herself. Kissing her, because I can and why the hell not, I allow us both to get lost in it, loving how easy it is together. Our mouths and bodies move against one another as if they’ve done it a million times before.

  To me, she’s transparent. Within minutes of being together, I figured her out. The buttons to push to send her flying high. The tender spot where her neck meets her shoulder causes her to shudder. Her nipples are so sensitive, sucking on them brings her to orgasm in no time. When I run my thumb along her cheek or throat, she squirms and rubs her legs together to relieve herself of some of the tension.

  I love it.

  It’s addicting to know how much I turn her on. Because she does the same to me.

  The second her hand wrapped around me, I almost came right there. Then the heat of her mouth hit me and I had to think of everything possible to keep my mind off what was happening. It had been a long time since anyone but myself had touched me and the fact that it was Cami, beautiful, lovely, broken, sad Cami, was almost too much for me to handle.

  When her mouth breaks from mine, her lips are puffy and a little red, her skin flushed, her chest is heaving, and her eyes are glossy. The blue so dark they’re almost black.

  “If I look anything like you do, I look turned way the fuck on.”

  She rubs her lips together and nods, murmuring a, “Pretty much.”

  “Let me feed you.”

  “I tried to eat earlier and you wouldn’t let me,” she sasses.

  “I wasn’t the one pulling you away. No guy in his right mind would ever deny someone of that,” I counter.