“Ryder’s out front. Car’s running.”
D’lilah nods and with a sad smile trudges out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I run my hand through my hair. “Sorry about—”
“I can’t believe you were married to D’lilah Monroe.” She blinks at nothing and shakes her head.
“It was a long time ago.”
Her eyes find mine. “You care about her.” She sounds disappointed.
“I owe her.”
She sighs and drops her gaze to the floor. “You owe her and you care about her.”
“I guess.”
She cringes, but nods. “She looked . . . sad.”
“She is, and she upsets easily, which upsets me.”
“Because you care about her,” she says under her breath.
“I care about you.” Shit. Why the hell did I say that?
Her eyes dart to mine, jaw slack.
“I don’t want to care about you.” Dammit, slow down and think. I could say all this better if I knew how the hell I felt. “But the thing is you keep poppin’ in my head and starring in my dirtiest dreams. What you did tonight with ’Li . . .” I shake my head. “I don’t want to stay away from you anymore.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, I feel the truth behind them.
Her hand flies to her throat, and her chest rises and falls faster.
I tilt my head and study the strong woman who I’d swear could never get brought to her knees, and now she’s on the verge of crying. “That doesn’t sit right with you, does it, Eve?”
Her head moves slowly from side to side.
I want to prove it to her, pay her back for showing up here tonight, pushing her way into my life, and, by making D’lilah laugh, further planting herself in my soul. Marking her spot in a permanent way.
This is happening. I’ve been denying it for weeks, avoiding the little voice in my head that keeps telling me this woman means something. I’ve made the argument with myself that twenty-one is too young, wrestled with the idea that we’re in two different stages of life, and listed the reasons why we’d never last. But here I am, mere yards from my bed with her and thinking the couple feet that separates us is way too much.
“So um . . . just so we’re straight, you’re thirty-eight, have an easily upset-able ex-wife, and a seventeen-year-old son. Is there anything else I should know?”
Yes. “Not really.”
“That’s a lot to digest.”
My gaze slides up her luscious body. “Too much?”
She rakes her teeth along her lower lip, and her eyes flare. “No.”
I take a step toward her and run my thumb along her lower lip to release it from her teeth. Those big eyes, flushed cheeks, full lips. “Missed touching you, doll.”
“After you found out how old I was, you never came by.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Is our age difference too much for you?”
“Yeah.”
Her head jerks a tiny bit.
“But only when we’re not together. I can justify staying away because of our age difference. But now . . .” I hold out my hand, and she presses her palm to mine. I run my thumb over the tender skin at the underside of her wrist. “Being so close to you, seeing you with Mason and hearing him call you his girl . . .” Fuck, even thinking about it now is making me crazy. “I want you.”
I thought it was what she wanted to hear, but her face twists with what looks like confusion. “So you see me with Mason and now you want to fuck me?”
Her words are like a blow to my gut. That’s not what I meant.
“Eve, I—”
She pulls her hand from mine. “That’s fine, Cameron.” Her voice is hard. “Honestly, I wish I could shut you down and turn you away, but I can’t. It sucks, it really does, but the truth is I’ll be whatever you want me to be. You want to show up at midnight for a quick fuck, spend the night, take me to breakfast, or not . . .” She shrugs; her big blue eyes are steely and set on mine. “That’s fine. I can’t say no to you, and if that makes me your slut, then I can live with that.”
“My slut.”
She nods. “You’ve been honest with me, and it’s only fair I do the same.” She runs her hands through her hair and gathers it over her shoulder. “I like you, more than I should and probably more than you like me. If a fuck buddy is what you’re looking for, I can be that.”
I cringe at the casualty of her words and how easily she dismisses her worth. “Stop talking.”
“You call me doll. I’m a toy to you.” She tilts her head, and I don’t see a hint of disgust as she speaks of her worth. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. Honestly, it’s better that I know where we stand, because the wondering is what’ll make me crazy and that’s—”
I hook her behind the neck and tug her to me, covering her lips with mine. Lucky for me I caught her off guard and mid-sentence so her mouth is open and my tongue slides in. She moans and leans her weight against my chest. My free hand moves down to cup her ass and hold her up and close.
Her breasts melt against my chest, and her tiny hands fist into my shirt. She thinks I’m using her for sex. I suppose I was, at first, but the night I left her place after The Blackout, I knew it was more than that. How much more, I didn’t know, but now with her in my arms, her ass in my hand, and my tongue in her mouth, I’m one hundred percent sure I’m making her mine.
I scoop her up by her ass and turn to place her on my clothes dresser. Standing between her legs, I slide my hands up the outside of her thighs to the hem of her dress. She’s convinced she’s nothing more than a place to bury my dick, but she’s wrong. And I’m going to prove it.
Pushing her dress up, she rocks from side to side so I can get it out from under her ass and to her hips. I look down to her soft thighs, which cradle me between them. They lead up to a pair of bright blue lace panties, and as hot as they are, I’m itching to see what’s underneath.
“The door.” She’s breathing hard, her words sputtering on panting breath. “Is it locked?”
I run my hands up and down her thighs, willing her to relax. “Don’t fuckin’ care.” Ryder and D’lilah are gone. Anyone else who walks in can watch or fuck off.
My fingers find their way beneath her panties.
“What if Mason—oh God . . .”
“Relax. He’s playing pool.” I lean in and suck her bottom lip into my mouth, allowing my teeth to scrape against it upon release. “What I have in mind won’t take long.”
Her legs lock around my hips, ankles hook behind the backs of my knees. “Don’t stop.” She braces her weight with her palms behind her, and her eyes flutter closed.
“Look at me.” I bury three fingers to my knuckles.
She opens her eyes, but it takes a few seconds for the fogginess to clear.
“I want you to listen very carefully.” I cup her breast then pull one strap off her shoulder to pop one full breast out from her bra. One hand between her legs, the other toying with her nipple, I have her at my mercy. “You’re not my slut.” I roll her nipple between my fingers, and she groans so fucking sexy I feel it in my balls. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”
“Cameron—”
“Tell me you get me.” I plunge in three fingers and clamp down on her nipple. “You’re not Mason’s or anyone else’s.”
“More . . .” The word fades into a moan.
“I know you want to come, baby, and you will, but first we need to get some shit straight. When we’re straight, I’m gonna lay you back and eat until I’m full.”
“Oh my—”
“But not until we’re clear.”
She’s writhing against my palm, arching her back and offering her breast. My dick is straining behind my zipper, but tonight isn’t about my getting off.
“You’re worth more to me than a quick fuck.” I lean down and kiss her forehead.
“Whatever you want, just promise you won’t stop.”
A tiny grin pulls at my lips. “Whatever I want . . .”
“Mmmm . . .”
“Tell me you’re not a slut.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not . . . a slut.”
It doesn’t sound like she believes it, but we haven’t got all night.
“Lie back.”
She adjusts and drops back to her elbows while I drag her ass to hang off the edge of the dresser. I slide her panties off and toss them aside then drop to my knees. Placing a kiss on one ankle at a time, I rest one of her long legs over my shoulder, followed by the other. Her high heels dig into my back, and I groan at the pleasure-pain.
My hands cup her ass, and with my thumbs, I open her up to me. “Fuckin’ starving for this, baby.”
I lick long and slowly. Her tender flesh, so soft against my tongue, is heaven, and I delve in deeper for more. Mmm . . . so damn sweet. Her thighs quiver against my shoulders, and I bury my fingers back inside her tight body.
Her head drops back to the wall; hands fist into my hair. She pulls me closer, grinding down on my fingers while I use my lips, tongue, and small grazes of my teeth to bring her close.
She’s moaning my name, and her legs clamp down hard on my back. I growl as she pulls me in, draws me deeper into her body. Sensing she’s ready, I suck hard and hold on with my teeth.
A rasping whimper falls from her lips, and her body tightens up. She calls out my name and rips at my hair as the orgasm thrashes through her. She’s pulsing against my mouth, and my eyes drop closed in an attempt to control the urge to seek out my own release. To sink inside and mark her so deeply that any man who comes close can smell me on her skin.
That sounds insane in my own head, but it also sounds right. What the hell am I getting myself into?
Fifteen
Eve
Cameron slides me off his dresser to my feet. Still coming down from my release, I lean back against the solid furniture so I don’t topple over. He snags my panties from somewhere and slides them up my legs then wraps me in a hug. “You okay?”
“I . . . yes? Yes.” I can’t think or breathe right. After a few minutes between my legs, he’s left me a stuttering mess of buzzing skin and tingling girlie parts. “I’m good, yeah. Thanks.”
His low chuckle vibrates against my chest. “My pleasure.”
An obvious symbol of his lack of receiving pleasure digs into my stomach. I slide my hand between us and grip him from the outside of his jeans.
A hiss seeps from between his teeth, and he pulls his hips back. “Not tonight.”
The nauseous roll of rejection turns my stomach. “Oh, but I thought—”
“You’re my slut? Fuck buddy?” He drops a soft kiss to my forehead. “Not tonight, Yvette.”
A flash of disgust makes me cringe at his use of my full name, but it quickly disappears when his words sink in. He doesn’t want me to reciprocate so I don’t feel used. I’ve never been with a guy who wasn’t more concerned with getting off than he was about me. And fuck if my eyes are welling up with tears at the thought of Cameron putting his own needs aside. For me.
I suck it back and peek up at him. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
He blinks and his expression hardens. “That can’t be true.”
I push out an uncomfortable laugh. No need to air out all my garbage here and now. “Nah . . . it’s not, but that’s really cool of you.”
“Need to go make an appearance out there. Don’t know who’s left, but I—”
“Oh shit!” I cover my mouth. I totally forgot about Mason. How long have I been back here? “I need to go.” I straighten my dress and do my best to wipe the I-just-came-hard look from my face. “Do I look okay?”
He glares at me, but doesn’t answer.
“What?” I smooth my hair and press on my cheeks, hoping the heat I feel in them still will soon recede. “Is it bad? He’s going to know what we’ve been up to.”
“Fuck him.” Cameron’s words are growled.
“I came here with him.”
“No, you came there”—he nods to the dresser—“with me.”
He’s so hot and so frustrating. I cock my hip and glare. “What do you want me to do? March out there and announce to everyone that you just had your mouth between my legs?”
I don’t want to remind him about keeping our hookups a secret. If it were up to me, I’d be screaming that we’re together to anyone who’d listen. But there’s this new feeling I have; it’s like worry or concern when it comes to Cameron. I want to make things easy for him. I’m also not excited about hurting Mason, but I knew going into this date that was a possibility. All the more reason to keep this between us for now.
“I have to find Mase.” I move to the door in a hurry. He must be so worried, probably thought I left and didn’t say goodbye.
“Make it fast.” Cameron’s deep command stills me at the door. “He drops you at home, and then I’m picking you up.”
Warm flutters race through my belly, and my blood pounds faster through my veins. “Sure thing, boss.”
I move down the hallway, out through the living room, and into the backyard with a huge smile on my face. I scan the remaining partygoers, grateful to find Mason in a group of people talking. Sneaking up undetected, I sit on a tall chair and wait for him to see me.
It only takes a minute or so before his eyes lock on me. He excuses himself and comes over. “I feel like such a dick. I’ve been so wrapped up in this bet we made playing pool, I’ve completely neglected my date.”
I smile, and this time it’s not fake. “Don’t worry about it. I knew enough people and had fun hanging out with them.”
“I looked for you when the fireworks started.”
“Yeah, sorry. I went to the bathroom and got to talking to an old friend.” It’s not a lie. Not really.
He reaches out and brushes his thumb along my cheek. “Hot?”
“Hmm?”
“Your cheeks are red.” His eyelids drop low and communicate much more than his words. He tucks my hair behind my ear and sifts his fingers down its length.
I pat my cheek. “Yeah, it’s a little warm outside.”
And then I feel it.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think gravity had doubled its weight as the air around me turns oppressive. I blink and turn toward the source, but not even gravity can compete with what’s pointed my way.
Cameron is staring with a glare so intense it sends goose bumps up my arms and a shiver racing down my spine.
“Damn, Eve.” Mason rubs his hand up and down my arm. “You feelin’ all right?”
My instinct tells me to throw Mason’s hand off to protect him from the terrifying man who hasn’t taken his eyes off of us. “You know, now that you mention it, I’m not feeling that good.”
“Well shit, you should’ve grabbed me so I could get you home.” His eyebrows are pinched together with concern. “Come on.” He helps me from my chair and wraps a hand around my waist to guide me out.
Waving a quick goodbye to everyone outside, we move toward the house and right to Cameron, whose eyes are fixed on Mason’s hold of my waist. Shit, this isn’t good.
“Cam, sick party. We’re gonna take off.” Mason moves in for a handshake, but Cameron only glares.
I clear my throat, and Cameron’s eyes dart to mine. I tilt my head to Mason’s extended hand and toss him a glare of my own. Shake his hand!
He slides his gaze to Mason and thankfully reaches out to grasp his hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“We’d stay longer, but my girl’s not feeling—shit, man.” Mason pulls his hand away from Cameron’s, shaking it out and laughing. “Can’t fight with a broken hand. Damn.”
The tiny hint of a smile twitches the corner of Cameron’s mouth. “Oops, don’t know my own strength.”
I shake my head, vowing to punch him in the gut first thing when he shows up at my place—after I kiss him, and ravage his body.
Cameron’s eyes fix on mine. “Drive home safely.”
I nod. �
��Thanks for having me.”
He runs two fingers across his bottom lip. “Thank you for coming.”
My face ignites in a furious blush that has Cameron grinning bigger than I’ve ever seen, which isn’t all that big.
I pull at Mason, and he takes the cue and accompanies me to the front door. “That guy’s moody as shit,” he says under his breath.
“I guess so.” As irritating as his little show back there was, it was equally sexy. And there’s a twinge of satisfaction knowing that I can affect a man like Cameron in a way that makes him want to break another man for simply touching me.
It’s a short and quiet ride back to my place. I don’t know what Mase had planned for the end of the night, but I’d be willing to bet it didn’t involve a sick date. I can’t bear to look at him. I feel so guilty, but I convince myself that his disappointment in my sudden illness is better than the rejection I’d dole out if he tried anything with me.
He escorts me to my door. “Hope you feel better.” His big arms wrap me in a hug. “Get some sleep.”
“Thanks for everything.” I give him a small smile and push into my house then lean back against the door and take a long, deep breath, listening to the rumble of his truck as it backs out of the driveway and fades down the street. Cameron should be here soon. I need to get ready.
I race back to my room, stripping off my shoes, dress, and jewelry. Standing in my panties and bra, I rip through my drawers and closet, looking for something that looks as if I’m not trying too hard.
Pink maxi dress, flip-flops. Done.
I’m in the bathroom, brushing my hair when I hear the knock on the door. Ponytail in hand, rubber band hanging from my mouth, I swing open the door.
My heart plummets into my stomach.
“Dad?”
Sixteen
Eve
My dad’s at my front door at almost midnight. It doesn’t take supernatural ESP to figure out what he’s doing here, which I’m sure has zero to do with dropping by to wish me a happy Independence Day. With his gambling, drinking, and mooching off me, this is more like a reminder of his Dependence Day.
Fighting the Fall Page 12
