Proposing might have been too much tonight.
But maybe not.
“Well, maybe you’re more prepared than I am here,” he said. “I had no idea we were having pantyless kitchen time tonight.”
She came forward, her hips swaying, her breasts bouncing softly, completely distracting him as she moved.
“You had no idea that we were having pantyless kitchen time tonight?” she asked, stopping right in front of him.
Yes, he very much loved this more confident side of Whitney.
“I might have hoped for pantyless time tonight,” he said. “But the room doesn’t really matter.”
She reached for the bowl of cookie dough and scooped up a spoonful, lifting it to her mouth and then sucked it from her finger.
Cam’s body heated and hardened.
She looked up at him. “So you have underwear on under those jeans?”
“I do.”
“Guess that makes me the optimist here.”
“Makes me damned grateful.”
She smiled. “Good.”
“Can you do that thing with the cookie dough again?” he asked.
She took another dab on her fingertip and lifted it to her lips, but he caught her wrist at the last moment and brought it to his mouth. He slid it past his lips, over his tongue, then closed around it and sucked.
Her eyes darkened and she swallowed hard.
“I was actually going to bake these for you,” he said.
“Let’s see if there’s any left for that.” She took his hand, dipped his finger into the dough and lifted it to her lips, licking, then sucking as he had.
The feel of her hot, wet mouth around his finger made his cock ache and press insistently against his zipper. He wanted her mouth around his cock. She could coat it in cookie dough if she wanted to. He didn’t care if he could get her lips around him.
“Whit—”
She dipped more cookie dough out of the bowl and then painted it over one nipple.
Or they could do this.
Without a word, he bent his knees, placed a hand on her back to hold her steady, and licked the dough off her nipple, sucking to be sure it was completely clean.
Her hand cupped the back of his head as she arched closer. “Oh my…Cam.”
He wanted to hear a lot more of that. “Fuck.” He straightened and reached for the bowl.
She reached for his pants.
He let her.
She unzipped his jeans, shoving them and his boxers just low enough to free his erection. She sucked in a quick breath as she took in the sight, then circled him with her hand.
Cam gripped the counter and locked his knees as lust and heat coursed through him. “Whitney,” he said, his jaw tight. “Babe.”
She stroked up and down his length, not taking her eyes from the action, or saying a thing.
“Whit.”
“Just give me a minute,” she told him.
He huffed out a laugh, then a groan as she squeezed and stroked.
“I need more tattoos,” she said, suddenly, pulling her hand from his cock and sliding both palms under his shirt. She pushed the cotton up his torso and he lifted his arms, letting her strip it up over his head. When she got it higher than she could reach, he grabbed the shirt and pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Yes,” she said softly, almost reverently, as she slid her palms back down his body, over his shoulders, chest, and down his sides.
He watched her looking at him. She ran her hands over his tattoos, her fingertips tracking the lines, her eyes studying them all. She had him turn so she could see them all. His ink covered one arm from shoulder to wrist, his other arm elbow to wrist, his left shoulder blade, his right ribs, and his right abs.
“This is all so beautiful. You’ll have to tell me what they all mean.”
“Okay.” His voice was thick. He would do this however she wanted. But he really didn’t want to talk about his tattoos at the moment. “This one is—”
“Oh, later.” She laughed lightly, running her hands up his ribs on either side and lifting her eyes to his, leaning in to press her breasts against his chest. “Much later.”
He bent and captured her lips with his, cupping her face and taking the kiss deep immediately. Their tongues stroked, their groans mingled, their bodies pressed skin to skin. Mostly.
Growling, he pulled away and dropped his hands to his jeans, pulling his wallet out and tossing it on the counter, then shoving them down. He went back to kissing her, but her hands went back to stroking him and before he could reach for the condom in his wallet she’d reached for the cookie dough.
And gone to her knees.
Again he gripped the edge of the counter as she smeared the cookie dough down his length then dragged her tongue along the hard shaft, licking it clean. Cam worked on breathing, cupping the back of her head, not pulling her hair, not thrusting, just breathing. And watching. Absorbing it all.
It was clear she was no expert, and that thrilled him more than anything else she could have done with her mouth. Of course, any blow job was a great blow job. He let her lick and suck, loving her little moans and the feel of her hot mouth and hands on him until he simply couldn’t take it anymore.
He pulled back and stared down at her, breathing hard.
I love you and marry me were both on the tip of his tongue but immediately after having her greedy mouth on his cock wasn’t the right time for either of those. He’d thought them both prior to her licking cookie dough from his dick, but it might be hard to convince her of that.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk. And he didn’t need to in order to show her how he felt.
He pulled her to her feet, then lifted her onto the counter, shoving the bowl of dough back and stepping between her knees. She spread her thighs, welcoming him against her with her arms going around his neck and her legs going around his waist.
They kissed, long and deep. He ran his hands up and down her back. She gripped his back and arched close. Her pussy was hot and wet against his cock and he rocked against her gently.
She was moaning softly and saying his name as he dragged his mouth down her neck and then bit down where it curved into her shoulder.
“Cam.”
“You want to do this here?”
The kitchen seemed appropriate, but they were sleeping together tonight. All night. In a bed. They could move this show upstairs right now.
“Yes. Here. Now.”
Didi wasn’t going to be coming down. He’d told her that he needed to talk to Whitney—Didi had agreed—and asked if she’d stay upstairs tonight until her alarm went off on her phone. She’d thought that was a great idea. So he had until 3 a.m. to worship every inch of Whitney Lorraine Lancaster.
That was five hours.
That wouldn’t be enough time for him to come even close to getting enough of her. But it would be a very good start.
He reached for his wallet, pulling the condom from between the bills. He kept kissing her as he ripped it open and rolled it on. Then he pulled her butt forward on the counter.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he said.
“This feels like the first time,” she told him softly, running her hand over the side of his face and into his hair.
She was right. It did.
“I’m in love with you, Whit.”
Okay maybe immediately after having her mouth on his cock hadn’t been the right time but this felt good.
He hoped.
Her eyes widened for a moment. But then she smiled and breathed out. “I’m in love with you too.”
Neither of them said again.
Because this was different than before. This was new.
But when he pulled her forward and she wrapped herself around him and he slid into her hot, tight body, it felt like they’d been doing it forever.
“Oh yes Cam,” she half whispered, half moaned.
“Whit. Damn. Yes,” he answered. Sort
-of. It was more of a grunt-groan honestly.
He pulled out and thrust again. And again. She clung to him, her body—from her arms to her pussy—tight around him, not letting him go far. But he had to move. The friction, the push and pull, the heat and wetness everything he needed.
He gripped her ass, felt her hot breath on his neck, her silky hair against his chest.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Anything.”
“Just… more. Harder.”
Well, that he could do. “Lean back.”
She shifted, looking up at him.
He kissed her and then pressed her back until she was leaning on her elbows.
“Gorgeous.” He ran a hand up one thigh to her stomach then up to one breast, playing with a nipple and feeling the resultant tightening around his cock.
The angle was gorgeous too. He could see everything where they were joined.
“You’re incredible,” he told her, pulling out and sliding back in, watching her body take him then lifting his eyes to her face.
She was breathing hard, her eyes on him, her cheeks pink.
“Ditto,” she told him breathlessly.
He pulled back then thrust forward again, sinking into her welcoming sweet, wet heat. “I will never get over this,” he told her sincerely.
“Good. I’m already addicted.” She ended that on a gasp as he hit a particularly good spot.
“Oh, like that?” he asked.
“Yes. Please. Again.”
He complied.
And again.
“Harder.” She tightened around him. “Faster.”
He did. Both. He watched her breasts bounce. Watched her head fall back, her hair trailing over the countertop. He watched the flush climb up her chest.
“Yes! Cam,” she gasped.
He gripped her thighs where he held her and picked up the pace even more. He was pumping into her hard and deep and he felt his climax building. He moved a hand, pressing his thumb against her clit, then rubbing.
“Oh! Yes!”
He circled the spot, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm, watching her mouth fall open as she panted and the way she gripped the edge of the counter.
“Cam!”
He circled and thrust faster and then she clamped down on him, one hand gripping his wrist as her pussy milked him and she cried out.
He let himself go, thrusting three times, and coming hard, calling her name.
“Whitney! Yes! Yes!”
She immediately pulled herself up and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He held her tightly, feeling the goosebumps pebbling her skin. Then he yanked his pants up, scooped her up with his hands under her ass, and turned toward the hallway, heading for the stairs.
“Our clothes. And the cookie dough,” she protested weakly, her face against his neck.
“I’ll take care of it all later,” he promised.
She reached out and flipped off the light as they passed it, leaving only the soft glow of the light over the sink.
He loved that she just let him take care of things. He hadn’t realized how important that was to him until he’d moved in here. His mom had always taken care of things in their home. His grandmother had single-mindedly taken care of their family business. He absolutely contributed to Fluke, Inc. and now Hot Cakes, but… he was an attorney. He was easily the most replaceable of any of the guys. He knew they never would replace him, but what he contributed was much more in the category of friendship than it was anything legal that another lawyer couldn’t handle.
But here with Didi and Whitney it was different. He was doing something here that he truly felt no one else could do as well. It was very domestic and very full of fat and sugar at times but it was important.
He turned to climb the stairs, loving the feel of her in his arms.
“You can’t carry me all the way up,” she said.
“Watch me.”
He started up the steps.
“This is so hot,” she murmured.
“You like being carried?”
“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone.”
“No one would believe me anyway,” he said against her head with a smile.
It made him feel stupidly manly. And he would never tell anyone that either. Probably not even her. She wasn’t some “little lady” who needed a big strong man to take care of her.
But she liked when he did. And so did he. So, yeah… no one else needed to know.
He turned down the hall heading for her room. He could take her to his, of course, but his room was a guest room. He wanted to be with her in her room, in a permanent place. And, yes, a place where she’d think of him every time she lay down.
He hoped to be in there with her every time she lay down from now on but… they still had some talking to do. They were absolutely on their way to permanently lying down together though.
He got it. That’s what she’d said earlier. He knew what she wanted and needed. She was falling for him because he understood her needs with her career.
Cam frowned as he put her down on the bed.
“Come here.” She pulled him down with her.
He went willingly. Of course.
She turned her back and snuggled her body right into his, spooning like they’d done it every night forever.
And it felt right.
But he was still frowning.
No. She wasn’t falling for him just because he was supportive of her career and made it one-thousand times easier on her to pursue it. But he’d helped her see that she could have it all. Him and Hot Cakes.
And… she could. It had stung a little to realize that part of what she needed was for him to not need her. Not need her there for regular family dinners or even every night by a certain time. To not need her to remember appointments or to meal plan or dust.
But she did need him for orgasms, dammit.
And cookies.
She sighed and snuggled closer and pulled Cam’s arm around her body and he sighed too.
Orgasms and cookies. Yeah, he could work with that.
20
Something woke them up at 4 a.m.
But it wasn’t an alarm. Or the theme song to Magnum, P.I.—on TV or on Cam’s phone.
But it was Didi. Shaking them awake.
She was at the bottom of Whitney’s bed, shaking the entire mattress. “Whitney! Camden! Wake up! Wake up! It’s bad!”
They both sat bolt upright.
“Grandma! What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Whitney started to get out of bed, realized she was naked, realized Cam was beside her weighing down the other side of the sheet, yanked it hard, then realized that would leave him naked.
She grabbed for a pillow and tossed it over his lap and then yanked the sheet again, pulling it over her body and sliding out of the bed.
“Henry called. It’s Maggie,” Didi said.
Still half-asleep, Whitney stood at the side of the bed, blinking.
Henry? That name was familiar…
“What did he say?” Cam was off the mattress, the pillow clutched against his midsection, moving toward Didi.
Henry. Cam. Right, Cam’s little brother.
“Why did he call you?” she asked.
Okay, maybe at 4 a.m. that wasn’t the most important part of the situation. And it was 4 a.m.? She blinked at the clock. Why hadn’t Didi gotten up to watch Magnum, P.I.?
“He said Maggie got sick and they took her to the hospital,” Didi told Cam.
He reached her and put a hand on her shoulder, the other still holding the pillow in place. “Maggie is at the hospital?”
Whitney felt her stomach tighten as her grandmother nodded.
Then Whitney realized that Didi was dressed. Fully. She had on pants and a blouse and shoes. She even wore a necklace and had her purse in one hand. She had her hair brushed and—Whitney blinked—Didi was also wearing lipstick.
“We need to go,” Didi told him. “Right now.”
“I need to call Henry. O
r Dad. Or Zoe.” Cam looked around for his phone, turning to face the bedside table.
Didi’s gaze dropped to his backside. “I already told you what he said,” she replied.
Whitney rounded the bed quickly, turning Didi by the shoulders and pulling her grandmother’s attention away from Cam getting dressed.
“Did Henry say what happened?”
“Maggie got sick and they called the ambulance and to tell Cam.”
“Fuck,” Cam swore.
Whitney glanced at him as her stomach roiled. This was not good.
“Can I see your phone?” she asked Didi.
She was praying that Didi had imagined the call, she could admit. It was 4 a.m. Usually Didi would have been up for a few hours by now and downstairs watching TV. Maybe Didi was sleep walking? Or just confused since it was the middle of the night. Why would Henry, of all the McCaffreys, call Didi of all the people?
“Okay.” Didi dug her phone out of her purse.
There was, indeed, a recent call from a number that was labeled HENRY. About thirty minutes ago.
She decided not to tell Cam about the time since the call. Clearly Didi had taken that time to get ready to go before coming in to tell Cam what was going on.
“My phone is down in the kitchen,” Cam said, now with his jeans on and the pillow back on the bed.
Whitney assumed hers was as well. She’d laid it and her keys and purse down when they’d first gotten home. Typically she brought it upstairs with her when she came to bed but, nothing about coming to bed last night had been typical.
She watched Cam stomp toward the door and listened to his steps on the staircase.
“We need to go,” Didi said again, taking her phone back. “Henry is really scared. He wanted to know when I’d be there.”
Whitney looked at her grandmother. “We can’t go. Cam will go and let us know what’s happening.”
The last thing the family needed was extra people around to take care of. And that’s what Cam would do. He’d try to take care of everyone. It was better if she and Didi stayed behind.
But… Whitney blew out a breath. She had a huge meeting today. Hot Cakes’ biggest account was going to be the first to see the plans for the new bars. It was a perk of being loyal and long-term customers. They were flattered and excited, but the CEO, Gordon Perkins, a long-time friend of her father’s, was skeptical. The new ownership, particularly with no one with the last name of Lancaster and no one over the age of thirty-five was making him nervous.
Semi-Sweet On You: Hot Cakes Series Page 28
