by Lissa Bilyk
“Is that true, lads?” the barkeep said, opening the bar’s entrance and walking through. He was a big bloke, taller even than Cameron, but with years of a beer gut on him. His shoulders were broad and his fists meaty. I tried to make myself look small and inoffensive.
The four guys didn’t say anything.
“I told you, Anthony, this was your last chance.” The barkeep strode up to the VB guy. “I told you I’d give you one more chance to come here and behave, didn’t I? Now you’re making a scene and messing up the game for our other patrons.”
I looked around, but the only people left were a middle-aged couple doing their best to ignore the scene and finish their dinner.
“I’m sorry, Si,” Anthony the VB shirt guy said.
“Show me the picture,” the barkeep said.
“I didn’t take one,” Anthony protested.
“Then get out.” The keep pointed the way to the exit, as if the four regulars didn’t know the way. “And go find another Aussie bar to patronise, because you’re not welcome back here.”
“You can’t bar us!” the fourth guy, who’d said nothing the entire time, cried.
“I can, I will, and I have!” bellowed Si the barkeep. “This is a safe area for Aussies in London and you’re a disgrace to the nation. Now get out!”
The four guys filed out, shooting filthy looks at Cameron and me, and muttering dark things under their breath.
“Sorry about that,” the barkeep said, turning to us with a bright smile on his face. His entire demeanour changed now the four offenders were out of his house. “My name’s Simon. I own the place. Where are you two from?”
“New South Wales,” Cameron said.
“Sydney,” I said at the same time.
“Oh.” Simon laughed. “Those guys have fucked me around before, but because they’re Aussies I cut them some slack.” Simon sighed before letting himself back behind the bar. He nodded to the blonde bartender who served us two fresh drinks. “On the house.”
“Thank you,” Cam said.
“That’s Cameron Campbell,” the bartender said to Simon.
“Who?” Simon said.
“He’s famous, Si.”
Cam waved them away. “I’m just here having a nice night out with my girlfriend before my new show opens tomorrow night. Although I would like to send you some tickets for sorting out that scuffle before my face bore evidence of said interference. Would you like to see a West End play?”
Simon beamed. “Our very own local celebrity! I’d be honoured.”
I left Cameron to sort out the details and made my way back to our booth. Our drinks remained half-empty, so I sat and waited for Cam, wondering if this was what it was always going to be like. If we had a future at all.
Of course not always, my brain said nastily to myself. He’ll get sick of you as soon as he figures out you’re the most normal, boring, down to earth, serious, dull and ugly girl he’s ever been with.
I may as well just give him what he wanted and let him move on.
My heart fluttering, I downed the half-gone drink and then finished my new one. If I got drunk, I’d want to sleep with him, and I could give him what he wanted and get it over and done with and it would be okay, because the bartender chick was right, he was so fucking hot that it didn’t even matter anymore, did it?
It didn’t matter that I’d stayed a virgin because men scared the hell out of me, because Cameron Campbell had kissed me, had touched me, had been the first man I’d wanted to do both. And I was okay with that, because I liked him. A lot. It wasn’t just that he was hot and his smile made me dizzy, but because he’d not been frightened away by my cupboard of emotional baggage. And in return, I’d learned that I could trust him not to hurt me.
I gave myself two seconds to think about it then grabbed Cameron’s leftover drink, downed that, and his new one. It tasted like ass and burned my throat.
“Tori?” Cameron appeared at the booth, hovering, concerned. I leaped to my feet and seized his arm.
“Was that necessary?” I said.
“I don’t like being taken advantage of like that.”
“You said I was your girlfriend.”
He smiled a slow smile that slowly lit up his whole face. “Did you like that?”
I nodded. “But now instead of a phone picture in a dimly lit pub they’re going to sell an ‘I was assaulted by Cameron Campbell’ story.”
“I’ll just pay the fine and do the time.”
I looked at him in shock.
“The time in the newspaper’s bad books, not prison,” he added. “But I promise you Tori, if that photo does get out, I’ll get my publicist to track them down. I don’t want you dragged into my dramas.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. He took my hand. I slid into his warm embrace, rested my head on his shoulder.
“Let’s go home,” I murmured.
“What, now?” He pointed to the booth. “I was just getting started.”
“We can start something else,” I purred, running the tips of my fingers down his arm, feeling the muscles underneath quiver. “Take me home.”
He didn’t need another invitation, and fished his car keys out of his pocket. “Whose home?”
I thought for about two seconds – my house was tiny, and cold, and dark, and I had a neurotic cat that didn’t like strangers. “Yours.”
His eyes met mine straight on, silently asking me if I was completely aware of what I was asking of him. I nodded, just a tilt of the head.
“Right,” he said, flinging an arm around my shoulders. “See you later, Si!” he yelled to the big guy behind the bar as we stomped through the night back to his car.
Inside, I fumbled with my seatbelt, my stomach tying itself in knots. A pleasant warm sensation spread from my belly, and the thought of Cameron on top of me, skin on skin, doing all sorts of naughty things made my loins clench. I tried to breathe evenly and sucked my lip through my teeth.
The ride to Cameron’s house was silent. I tried to keep myself calm and in control, to not fidget, even when Cameron put his big warm hand on my thigh and spread heat throughout my entire body, all the way to my fingertips and toes.
In the parking area below his apartment Cameron stopped the car, methodically parking it, switching off the lights, and turning off the engine. I bounced with nervous energy, wondering if I was about to take flight like a frightened rabbit. I felt sick from nerves – or maybe it was the alcohol.
Before I could open my door and sprint for the elevator or the nearest exit, Cameron turned to me and put a hand on my cheek. I nuzzled my face into his palm, calming, and then he leaned over and kissed me, his lips soft and warm, firm, gentle. His kisses became stronger, more intense, and he snaked another arm around me to hold the back of my head. I moaned, surprising myself. I didn’t know kissing could do that to me.
Cameron’s lips left mine and kissed along my jawline, up to my ear where he took my earlobe between his teeth and worried it ever so gently. I gasped and reached for him, clung to his jacket. I felt him smile against my face and his lips went for my neck, kissing the soft part underneath my jaw down to my throat, where his tongue traced lazy circles and his teeth nipped at me.
“Cam,” I managed to splutter, protesting even though I didn’t want him to stop.
He withdrew, squeezing my hands. “Just a preview. Come on.”
I leant into him as we made our way to the elevator, snuggling into his warmth, his contouring muscles. I fit so perfectly against him I wondered if it was fate. Maybe someone as hot and fit and rock-hard as Cameron was meant to be with someone softer and full of curves like me.
Before the elevator doors even closed Cameron whirled me against the wall and pressed up against me, his whole hard body aligning against mine, his mouth on my neck and his hands twined in my hair. My fingers clutched at his jacket before diving beneath and razing the material of his shirt. His heat ate into me, sent flares along my arms to shatter my insides. I felt a s
udden sharp pain on my neck and squeaked in protest. My fingers dug underneath his shirt, slid against the warm golden skin of his back. He growled into my neck and bit again.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. We were at the lobby. Breathless, Cameron took my hand and led me to the elevator that took the residents to their floors, past the blonde receptionist who’d lied about what happened when I’d left in tears, refusing to sleep with him. How strange now that I’d returned to do exactly that. Her eyes widened in shock to see my tousled hair, Cameron’s half-dressed appearance. I couldn’t even flash her a smug smile, I was so flustered by Cameron’s insistent tugging, taking hurried steps to match his longer stride. He wanted me in his house and in his arms, now.
He hammered the button impatiently and again, before the doors even closed, fairly threw me against the wall. He took both of my hands in his and raised them above my head, fastening one big hand around my wrists. I gave an experimental wiggle – I wasn’t going anywhere. My heart hammered so loudly in my chest I thought it might explode. He pressed his body against me sinuously, lazily kissing along my jaw, showing me how much he wanted me. He leaned back to gaze at me and pushed a lock of hair from my eyes. He kissed me again, took my lip between his teeth. I desperately wanted to put my arms around him, pull him closer, but I couldn’t move. He’d pinned me to the elevator wall.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, his eyes drinking in my face.
I nodded, breathless.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Tori.” He ran the knuckles of his free hand across my cheek, kissed me again, but gentler this time. The elevator doors opened and we were home.
I followed him in as he unlocked his door and flipped on the lights.
“I need a drink,” I said, kicking my shoes off before heading towards the kitchen. He put his hands around my waist to stop me, dropped a kiss on the end of my nose.
“Go wait in the living room. I’ll bring you something.”
“Make it strong,” I warned him, then on impulse gripped his arms, rose on my tiptoes and kissed him hard, demanding. He seemed to like it, emitting another one of those sexy growls from in his chest before releasing me.
I settled on the couch in the living room to wait his return, and glanced around. I wondered if he could play the piano – I could follow a melody, although I’d always entertained the fantasy of being able to play with two hands. I thought about what it might be like to bend over the piano while he took me from behind, then banished the thought from my mind. One step at a time. He might not want to keep you around after this, I told myself. You’re giving him his one night and then that’s it, he’ll be done with you.
Even if his kisses seemed to be telling a different story.
When he entered the living room with a glass of orange juice for me and a soda for himself, I noticed he’d removed his jacket and untucked his shirt, and kicked off his shoes as well. This was it. We weren’t going anywhere.
I took the glass he offered me and drank it as quickly as I could. I just had to get this over and done with. I suppose there were worse ways to lose one’s virginity.
He sat next to me and took a sip of his drink. As soon as he placed it on the black wood coffee table I gripped the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him closer to me. Slowly, as if he was aware his earlier passion had made me nervous, he ran his hand up my arm, leaned his body over mine, and kissed me. Mimicking what he did to me earlier, I took his bottom lip between my teeth and worried it gently. I wanted to do so much more. He pulled me against him, crushing me close, and swooped upon my mouth, his kisses insistent and demanding.
“Tori-” he started to say.
“Don’t say anything,” I said, wiggling underneath him. “Don’t spoil this.”
“I just want to-”
“Shhh,” I interrupted again, kissing him. “You’ve been so good to me and I don’t deserve it. I’ve only pushed you away.”
He stroked my face. “You had no reason to trust what I was saying, princess.”
I clasped my hands around his shoulders and pulled him down. His lips crushed mine in a clumsy, intense, teeth-knocking kiss, my mouth opening and my tongue toying with his. He tasted like sugar and Coke. Surprised, he hesitated for just a moment before he kissed me back and settled his body over mine. I dropped a leg off the couch so he could get closer – we fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. His chest flattened against my breasts as one of his hands twined through my hair, the other grazing my waist and moving up my rib cage. I hooked my leg around him as best I could and ran my hands down his back, peeling up his shirt, exploring his glorious smooth skin and corded muscles.
He tore his mouth from mine to pepper my jawline with kisses, moving to my neck, exploring with his tongue and lips like he was searching for something. When he found it I let out noise I didn’t know I was capable of making and felt a tingle deep in my loins, an aching need to fill something I didn’t know was empty. I tried to yank his shirt off but he wasn’t cooperating. I made a frustrated noise and he grazed my throat with his teeth. I forgot what I was trying to do and he swooped down to kiss me again.
Oh, right. Him. Me. Naked. Now. I tugged at his shirt again. He reared back on his knees and peeled the shirt off, revealing his beautifully chiselled muscular body. It was a treat to see up close and within biting range Tribal tattoos swirled across his chest and his biceps, swelled as he flexed his muscles. My teeth ached, wanting to sink into his pecs, a mattering of light brown chest hair sprinkled there and leading down past his belly button…
He gazed down at me as my breath hitched in my throat, before sinking on top of me once again and kissing me sensually. One hand slid back down my thigh and scooped under the hem of my dress, his warm touch grazing all the way up my leg to my hip. The closer he got to the top the faster my heart raced in a mixture of anticipation and fear. His fingers grazed the lacy material of my sexy underwear I’d slipped on to boost my confidence. I considered trying to shimmy my dress up my thighs to give him better access, when all of a sudden he lifted himself off me.
“Wait.”
“What?” I asked, breathless, frozen.
He ran a hand over his short cropped hair, his eyes anguished. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I couldn’t move. Did I? I didn’t know. The alcohol had lowered my inhibitions and god knows he was the most gorgeous man ever to look at me, let alone kiss me.
His face fell. “You’re not sure.”
I tried to find my voice. “I…”
“You’re drunk and in shock from the attack.”
“Cameron-”
“It’s okay. It’s okay if you’re not ready. You don’t have to pretend you are because then you’ll regret it, and I don’t want you to regret it. I don’t want you to pull away from me. I can wait.”
“Cameron, I do want you.” I reached for his hand.
He dipped his head to kiss me tenderly, stroked my hair. “But are you ready to go all the way?”
I stared deep into his eyes. If I wasn’t ready now, when would I be?
“We’ll talk about this in the morning, because if you tell me now then I won’t be able to stop myself. I want you to think about this, really think about it. Do you trust me?”
“I just… I just don’t know. Maybe?”
“I’m not going to use you and leave you. At least in the morning you’ll know for sure that we both want this.”
“Cam, I’m sorry.” Fat tears slid down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Tori.” He knelt by my side and kissed my face, kissed my tears. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to force his lips on mine, but he skilfully avoided me. He pulled my arms from him. “Don’t cry, princess. It’s a test for me, too. If I can behave tonight, as badly as I want to bury myself deep inside you, I’ll know for sure.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m in love with you.”
He scooped me up in his arms, lifted me of the couch. I squ
eaked in surprise and threw my arms around his neck – he was truly as strong as he looked if he could pick me up this effortlessly.
“Am I heavy?” I said, peering down at the carpet as he got to his feet, steadied, and trekked us to his bedroom.
“No, silly.” He kissed my forehead. “At my strongest I can deadlift one hundred and eighty kilograms. You’re not as fat as you think you are.”
My face burned in embarrassment, for this was the first time he had mentioned my weight. I don’t know why it shamed me, but the fact that he knew I was fat and yet still wanted to be with me both warmed my heart and seemed silly. I had thought that if I was in denial about being overweight, maybe he would be, too. Maybe he didn’t see the dumpy pale girl with the too big eyes and the too long nose and the too small mouth – maybe he saw someone truly beautiful, like I was a different person entirely.
Up the stairs that split off from the kitchen, Cameron’s bedroom was large and white, with a big white bed as the centrepiece. Tinted floor to ceiling windows on two sides showed a spectacular view of London. A door led somewhere unknown – a bathroom, perhaps, for I hadn’t seen that yet. The final wall was bare and unadorned.
Cameron lay me down on his big white bed. I clung to him, tried to force him down next to me. I knew it was a futile gesture: like I was little more than a child, he disengaged my hands from around his neck and stood before me. I wanted nothing more than to run my tongue over his six pack, follow the trail of hair down his belly… my eyes widened when he unbuttoned his jeans and dropped them, too. Had he changed his mind after all?
“Would you like to sleep in your clothes, or can I get you one of my t-shirts?”
My mouth opened and shut. I had forgotten to breath. I was so taken aback by his almost-naked glory. He shone, radiant like a sun.
“You’re beautiful,” I managed to whisper, aware I was still in my leggings and woollen dress. I didn’t want to take them off: surely the illusion that I was beautiful would be shattered once he saw my curves, my flab, my fat? Surely he would change his mind once he realised my breasts weren’t perky, that my thighs touched, that I didn’t have any abs?
