by Shea, Kacey
“Hey.” He catches my gaze, his own unreadable. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Oh . . .” I consider lying, but something in his stare pushes me to share a little more of the truth. “Teleportation.”
His chest shakes with laughter before the sound escapes his lips. Hello, dimples. Le sigh. “I don’t know if I should take that as an insult.”
Is he really fishing for a compliment? I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back my own amusement.
“Hey, it was good for you?” His eyes are wide, no trace of humor in them as if he’s genuinely concerned.
A piece of my cynical heart melts a little. Just a little. Because I have no doubt this man knows he delivered. “It was . . .” Mind-blowing. Orgasmic. Fucking fantastic. Literally. I scrunch my nose and give his naked form one long look, but when my eyes land on his I decide not to feed his ego. “Acceptable.” I roll away from his body and gather my discarded clothes.
His burst of laughter fills the quiet, chasing any lingering awkwardness to the moment. “Bathroom’s through there. It’s private. I have the master.” He nods across the room.
Thankful for the fact I don’t have to dress in front of an audience, I slink into the bathroom and relieve my bladder before tugging on my clothes. My skin is flushed, my neck and breasts rubbed red from his scruff. The band of my ponytail is secure, but several strands of hair have escaped, giving off a disheveled appearance. I look thoroughly fucked. Without a brush, I do my best to pull my hair back in place.
A knock at the door jolts my focus from the mirror. “Hey, you okay in there?”
I grip the doorknob, twist and swing it open.
Cam startles a little at my sudden appearance, but he recovers quickly with a slow grin. “Hey.” His pants are back in place, but his chest is bare and highly distracting.
I can’t pull my gaze from the muscular cut of his body. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just wanted to make sure you’re good.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He bites at the edge of his lip. “Um, no reason.”
“Okay, well, I better go.” I nod past him and when he moves out of my way, I brush past, careful not to graze his body with mine. Not because I don’t want to. God, he’s so fucking hot. I kinda want to push him back onto the bed and demand a rematch. He’d probably be game. He’d absolutely deliver. Once with Cam is not nearly enough; the man is skilled. But that would send mixed signals, and I do not want to confuse our agreed-upon terms. In my experience that only leads to messy, uncomfortable conversations, and good sex isn’t worth that.
Sliding my shoes back on, I reach for where I left my phone. There are several notifications, but I ignore them.
“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in,” Cam says, striding over with his confident steps.
“Why?” I force out a wry laugh. “So you can call me?”
“No.” There he goes again with that knowing smirk. As if he knows something I don’t.
“No?” I raise my brows. Then why does he want my number? Is this his move? What he does to ease women out of his bed. Does he think I can’t handle a one-time hookup? That I’ll chase him? I scoff. “What, you think I’m calling you?”
He chuckles, his open palm held between us. “No.”
“Then why?” Against my good judgment I hand over my cell. I’m not sure why, other than it makes him smile and those dimples pop. They’re almost as distracting as his bare chest.
He takes my phone and taps the screen a few times. He locks the screen and takes a step forward. His lips, full and utterly kissable, are only a breath away, but instead of going for my mouth he slides my phone into my back pocket. He gives my ass a squeeze and steps back. “Maybe I’ll send you a dick pic.” He shrugs, then reaches for the door. “If you’re lucky.”
“Yeah?” My voice comes out more seductive than I intend. And fuck me, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. “I won’t hold my breath.” I walk to the door, but he doesn’t open it yet.
His gaze waits for mine. The moment my eyes lock with his, a fluttery feeling takes residence in my belly. He brushes his knuckles across my jaw and cups the back of my head, almost possessively, but doesn’t quite close the distance between our mouths. “I had fun with you tonight.”
“Yeah.” My insides warm with that feeling that comes from being complimented. Even though I know it’s temporary and induced by the post orgasmic satiation haze, it’s still really nice. “You sure know how to show a woman a good time.”
“Rock collection for the win.” He pulls his fist into his chest, giving one of those goofy grins.
“Well, I better get back to the party.” I glance at the door.
“Yeah, we should . . .” He mashes his lips together. I wonder if he wants to kiss me again. Stupid as it is, I wish he would.
Stifling the urge to reach for him, I move toward the door. My gaze drinks him up one last time, and when I settle on his eyes I find him doing the same. As if he can’t get enough. Or maybe he’s memorizing me as I am him. My hand finds the doorknob and I unlock it. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“I don’t doubt you will.” There he goes with that cocky self-assuredness again, and damn if it doesn’t turn me on. “Later, Jill.”
My gut tightens, in part because I’m tempted to offer him more, and also because that thought is enough to make me run for the hills. This was a one-time thing, we both agreed, and it’s for the best. More would only lead to disaster. It’s not worth the risk, even if it was one hot night.
Chapter Three
I didn’t really think my escape plan through. Yeah, sure, hooking up with Cam was totally amazing, but I need to get the sight of him—sweaty, hard, and thrusting himself inside me—out of my mind. It’d be a challenging task on its own, but almost impossible being that I’m stuck at a party . . . in his apartment. For the next hour I avoid eye contact and conversation, and pretend he didn’t just rock my world. I’m not sure I’m fooling anyone, but turning it into a drinking game helps.
Each time he catches me looking, I drink. Every time I picture his face as he falls over the edge, I drink. When I get stuck in a conversation with anyone who isn’t him, I drink. Basically, I drink and drink and drink until I can’t exactly remember why I left the cocoon of his sex dungeon.
My limbs feel loose and my body buzzes with the energy of a crowded room as I refill my cup yet again. I meander back to the living room as it buzzes and buzzes again. Right on my ass. What kind of voodoo party is this? Shit. My phone. I pull it out of my back pocket, confused as to who could be calling. Alicia and Callie are here, and there’s no one else I know who’d try and reach me so late on a weekend.
Despite the fact I’m wearing my glasses, I squint to read the screen.
Preston: Looking forward to our date tomorrow.
Fuck.
Preston: I’ll pick you up
Preston: I made reservations at 6
Preston. I haven’t thought of him much since . . . well, since Cam’s dick entered the picture. Does that make me a horrible person? Shit. It must. Guilt and shame churn in my belly. I was honest with Cam, but what I did wasn’t respectful to the man I’m supposed to be dating—exclusively, no less. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I really fucked up. I’m not this person. I don’t sleep around. I don’t cheat. I don’t blur lines or technicalities. How can I go out with Preston tomorrow? How can I keep seeing him and not tell him what I did tonight? Shit.
My fingers hover over the screen as I debate what to text back. I could cancel. Call things off. Bail and take the easy road of never coming clean with what I did. Only I really like Preston. He’s a nice man. We’re the same age. We have things in common. He’s respectful. Nice. Safe.
I promised myself to give it a real try with Preston. I’ve never been open to relationships, not beyond a casual thing, but I wanted to try. This time I thought I could. Preston understood I didn’t want to rush things. We decided to date and see what happ
ened. We both agreed we weren’t interested in seeing other people, and I hadn’t even looked at another man. Until tonight. Until him. Cam. My gaze seeks him out in the crowd. He catches me looking and offers one of his panty-combusting smirks. Fucking dimples. Le sigh.
But I can’t blame his features for any of this. I chose to go into his room. I may have had a few drinks beforehand, but I knew damn well what I was doing. And now I have to decide how to tell Preston. He won’t forgive this, and if he does, do I want to be with a man like that?
This should be some new record. I fucked things up before they even had a chance to start. Shit. Did I sleep with Cam to sabotage my budding relationship with Preston?
“Jilly!” Alicia waves me over. “There’s pizza!”
A stack of boxes balance in one of the party goer’s arms before being deposited on a table next to the couch. Someone else yells “food!” and a group of guys practically mow each other over on the way to nab a slice.
“Ladies first. Have some fucking manners.” Cam. I recognize his voice through the chaos. My body reacts even though I refuse to meet his stare.
“Jill?” Callie stumbles a little as she leans her body into mine. I grab on to her so we don’t both topple over. I think she was doing shots with the guys at some point. I regret not stopping that. She’s drunk. Beyond so.
“Pizza?” Cam clears his throat, standing before us as he pops open the lid on one of the boxes.
“God, yes!” Callie reaches for a slice and has it stuffed in her mouth before she mumbles a thank you.
Cam grins as if he’s amused. He tips his chin my way. “You hungry?”
I don’t even think he means for it to be sexual, but my mind goes there. Fuck yeah, I’m hungry. Only, the thought of getting naked with Cam again brings on a fresh dose of shame.
“Go on.” He moves the pizza box closer to my chest, and Callie grabs another slice with her free hand. “It’ll help soak up all that alcohol.” He misinterprets my hesitation. “I know you haven’t eaten anything.”
Has he been watching over me? My insides melt a little at the thought. Which is so stupid. What the fuck is in this beer? I’m not the girl who needs or wants a doting boyfriend. Fuck. I shake my head. Cam’s not my boyfriend. He’s probably not even looking out, just looking for a way to get me in his bed again. Only that doesn’t feel true either.
“What?” His soft chuckle floats between us. “You’re not one of those poor souls allergic to gluten?”
“Jill, oh-my-fucking-God, you need to eat this.” Callie picks up a piece and shoves it at my face.
I intercept the pizza before it makes contact with my skin. “Thanks.” I force a laugh and roll my eyes at my friend.
“Good girl.” Cam winks—fucking winks—and my panties go damp.
I have to look away. I don’t know what’s going on with me right now, but I don’t want him to see any of it. I breathe a sigh of relief when one of his buddies calls him over from across the room.
The pizza is good. I don’t realize how famished I am until I practically inhale my slice.
Callie leans into my side, her breath hot on my neck as she sighs. “Tired now.” She’s done. I know she is. My friend doesn’t usually have more than a few drinks, and I’d put money on the fact she’s less than an hour from bowing down to a porcelain goddess. She’s only been dating Chase a short time, so it’s my duty to get her out of here before that happens.
“Let’s get you home, yeah.” I pat the top of her head and pull out my phone to request an Uber.
“Sleep,” Callie mumbles.
I drag her over to an open chair near the door. Her eyes close, and she snuggles into the sleeve of her own shirt. I balance her so she won’t fall off before turning to search for Alicia. Doesn’t take long. She’s the center of attention, laughing and practically glued to one of Chase’s firefighter friends. I glance back at Callie, praying she stays put. I’ve had to drag these two from parties before. Herding cats would be easier.
“We’re leaving. You ready to go?”
“Go.” She waves a hand and directs her gaze at the dude everyone is calling Pants. Her lips pull into a seductive smile. “I’ll call an Uber. In the morning.”
“Really?” I already dislike this plan. If we come to a party together, we should leave together. It’s like an unwritten code in the Woman’s Guide to Being a Good Wingman handbook. Unless maybe we’re talking about checking someone off her bucket list, and this dude is no Shawn Mendez. “His name is Pants.”
“Nickname.” She giggles and tosses her locks over one shoulder. She glances at the man in question.
“But you hate wearing pants,” I deadpan. I don’t know if I could ever take seriously a man who goes by a piece of clothing. Pants? Shorts? Shirt? He’s one step from being a blanket. Not that I should judge. I just hooked up with Cam because I like dimples. I release a sigh of defeat. When Alicia wants something, there’s no stopping her. “You’re the reason I’m going to have gray hair.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She throws her arms around me and presses her lips to my cheek. “I’ll be fine,” she whispers at my ear. She turns to a very horny Pants, who’s ready to lead her down the hall. Before he does, she shouts back at me, “Don’t worry, Jilly!”
But her words are pointless. I always worry. God, I hope she knows what she’s doing. Or rather, who she’s doing. Pants might be a firefighter by day, but that doesn’t mean he’s a nice person. I don’t want to see my friend fucked over, and not in the good way.
“Chug, chug, chug!” A chorus of voices rises from the other end of the room as two guys race each other to finish their beers. Cam stands at the edge of the crowd, his eyes following me with interest. A slight grin on his lips reminds me of every delicious thing we just did in his bedroom. I look away. I can’t be dick-stracted right now.
My phone buzzes with an alert. Our ride’s here. I hustle to where Callie is seconds from passing out and haul her to her feet. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’m fun.” Her lower lip juts out and she stops short on the landing at the top of the stairs.
“Okay.” I loop her arm around my waist and force her to hold the railing with her other hand.
“I was fun,” she mutters, a little more indignant this time. “You saw me. Right?”
“You’re the most fun.” I don’t even try to interpret what she’s talking about, but it’s clear this is important. Also, I refuse to miss our ride over a drunken rambling. “Know what would be even more fun? Getting home.”
She acknowledges my words with a grunt, and thankfully stays upright enough that we make it down the stairs without either of us falling. I maneuver her into the back seat and pray she falls back asleep for the car ride. Callie’s a lightweight and probably passed her limit hours ago. Something tells me I’ll be paying for this night for weeks to come. I don’t need a puke charge in our Uber to top it off.
“You ladies had some fun tonight. This the address?” our driver says, meeting my gaze through the rear view mirror as I buckle Callie, then myself.
She grins. “We did have fun. I had fun. Jill, did you have fun?”
I had more fun than I want to admit. “Yep, that’s the address. We’re dropping her home, then another stop for me.” I need to tell Callie about my hookup with Cam. My head pounds with the thought of her reaction. I glance at my friend, her eyes fluttering shut with the lull of the ride. I need to tell her. I do, but that’s a problem for another day. Looks like I’ll be waking up to a cluster of problems. Fuck. I really know how to set my life on fire.
Chapter Four
I wake with a start. My heart hammers in my chest, racing as if there’s something wrong. My mouth is dry and my lips verge on cracking if I don’t get balm on them pronto. I roll off the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a soft thud, and the instant I’m upright I regret it. The acidic tang hits my taste buds and something bubbles up from my gut. I gag and race to the bathroom. I barely make it to the t
oilet in time to retch up the entire contents of my stomach.
The disgusting sight makes me vomit again. After flushing away the evidence, I settle my ass on the cold tile floor. My head pounds. My skin’s damp. I need a shower, aspirin, and a tall glass of water.
Hangovers. What a fucking drag.
Peeling off my underwear, I start the shower spray and step inside, careful not to move too fast or lose my balance. Hot water pelts my skin, bringing me back to almost human. My brain fog clears as steam fills the small room. My body aches, muscles I rarely use tight and sore. Cam. My thoughts drift back to last night, and all the fun we had in his bedroom. A shiver runs up my spine despite the warmth of my shower. Fuck me. I know I shouldn’t want it, but I could go for another round with him. His mouth on my body, mine on his. Learning what drives him mad, what pushes him over the edge. His grunts. Groans. Taste. We could take turns making each other come. Okay, maybe I want more than another night. I don’t usually do repeats because it encourages feelings, but once with Cam was not enough.
Too bad I have a date tonight with someone else.
I slam my eyes shut as a wave of shame shuts down the erotic play of my imagination. This. This right here is why I can’t have nice things. Maybe this is my sign. I thought I could try a relationship, that maybe I could be fucking normal for once. Obviously I was wrong. I shake off the anxiety building at this crossroad. I’m tired. Hungover. My head still pounds. I refuse to deal or make any major life decisions in this shower. My stomach grumbles as I turn off the water and step in front of the sink. I could go for a greasy burger and a soda right now.
I finish drying off, comb out my hair, and then search for my cell to get an Uber. My car is still parked at the apartment, and I have—shit! My eyes land on the time. “Shit, shit, shit!” That cannot be right! It’s almost time for my date. Waiting in my inbox is a text from Preston reminding me he’ll pick me up for dinner. Fuck.
