His lips brushed along her temple as a hand rose up into her hair. “Tate.” She released the skin at his neck and nibbled at his earlobe, tonguing and tugging at the small earring. “Are you sure?”
She rose above him, her hands on either side of his head, straddling his hips so his hardness nestled between her legs. They hadn’t had sex yet since they got back together, like neither wanted to take that final step again, that last big commitment. She knew once they came together again, they’d be soldered together, the melting parts of themselves hardening into one. It would take a sharp, hot knife to separate.
But she didn’t care anymore. Because their future was burning up before them, that dream turning to dust. This time, when it was over, she wanted to take a part of him with her. She wanted to leave a part of herself with him.
“I’ve never been more sure. I need you.” And then she lowered herself above him, pressing her lips to his, and he opened for her, angling her head so he could get deeper inside her. She rocked her hips and he moaned into his mouth.
She hurt. Everywhere. And she ached for Cam so badly. Ached to forget about everything crumbling around her and lose herself in the one man she ever loved.
With a small growl, he rolled her onto her back. He tucked his face into her neck, licking and biting, kissing and sucking to the dip in her throat and along her collarbone. He gripped her leg above the knee with a strong hand and propped it up on his hip, opening her up to him. She bent her other knee, planting her foot on the bed, and squeezed it to him.
And then she surrendered. She let him strip her of her shirt and she writhed under him as he sucked one nipple into his mouth. She gasped at the sharp sting of teeth. God, she’d always loved that. Cam knew just how to play her, when to give her that edge of pain and when to soothe it with a lick. He knew just how hard to suck that it hurt and then when to back off.
It had always been Cam. And it always would be.
He slipped off her shorts and underwear, taking his boxers off at the same time, then resumed his position between her legs. All she could do was grip his hair and run her hands over his back. Her muscles felt like jelly and she hadn’t even come yet. But Cam had rendered her drugged with his hands and lips and teeth. That hard arousal pressing against her nakedness.
He reached down between her legs, running his fingers through the wetness, dipping inside and then rubbing her clit. “You’re crazy ready for me.” His lips and tongue traced the shell of her ear and his fingers were doing crazy things. All she could gasp out was “Always.”
“Fuck, Tate,” he moaned.
“Missed your mouth.”
“Yeah? The things I do with it or the words that come out of it?”
She gasped out a laugh. “Both.”
He grinned then, a wicked grin along with a twist of his fingers. And then she wasn’t laughing. Because her hips were churning, grinding against his hand. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Somehow she got the muscles of her arm and hand to work as she reached down and gripped him, and stroked from root to tip. He grunted.
“I want this,” she said, and bit his shoulder.
“Fuck.”
“That’s the idea.”
She squeezed and pumped her hand. His hips rocked against her and his mouth crashed down on hers. “Condoms?” he mumbled against her lips.
“Nightstand.”
He leaned back and raised an eyebrow.
She rolled her eyes. “I just bought them, stud. Chill out.”
He smirked and pulled out the top drawer, fumbling in the box before pulling out a foil packet. He ripped it open with his teeth, then rolled it on with one hand. The ease of it stung.
“We’re going to have to talk about how you have this one-handed condom act down to a science,” she said.
He shook his head and braced himself on his forearms over her. He nudged her nose with his. “How about we not talk about that right now?”
And then he kissed her again, and all thoughts of other girls fled as his tongue proved she was the only one on his mind.
She felt him at her entrance, nudging. And then his hips canted, and he slid inside.
Tate hugged him to her chest and wrapped her legs around him as they both gasped. When every inch of him was inside her heat, he didn’t move. One hand cupped her neck and the other lightly gripped her hair. His forehead pressed into her temple and his breath rushed hot over her face. “Tate. God. I fucking missed you.”
And that was when the first tears threatened. When the magnitude of the day caught up with her. She tucked her head into his neck and urged him to move with a rock of her hips. “Missed you, too.”
But he didn’t let her get away with hiding. He pulled back slightly and raised her head to meet her eyes. “No one’s ever come close to meaning to me what you mean to me. You know that, right?”
She bit the inside of her cheek, hard.
He gripped her chin and circled his hips, once. She gasped.
“Tate, you know that, right? I love you.”
She couldn’t speak, because the sobs were starting in her throat. So she just nodded.
But again, Cam didn’t relent. “Please say the word,” he whispered.
A sob escaped. “Yes.”
And then he moved. In that lazy, rolling motion that only Cam had. He started slow, watching her face, kissing the corners of her eyes and mouth.
She gripped his hips harder with her legs and met his thrusts. And that was when his lazy rolls turned into powerful thrusts. He rose up on his palms and watched their connection. She admired the shifting muscles in his thighs and shoulders and biceps. The straining veins in his neck and forearms.
There was no sight like Cam during sex.
The angle wasn’t hitting her right, so she lowered a hand just where she needed it, pressing and rolling, circling. Cam’s breath was coming faster now, his movements a little erratic as he lost control. “Fuck, that’s hot, Tate. Come for me.”
And it didn’t take much longer, as the orgasm started in her spine and then radiated into the rest of her body and out to her limbs. She bit down on her other hand to hold in the cries, and Cam shoved his face into her shoulder, his grunts and muttered curses bleeding into her skin.
He didn’t pull out right away, instead he stayed inside her, nudging her sensitive skin with shallow, gentle rocks.
She’d forgotten about this. Or maybe she’d blocked it out of her mind. Because this was always the best part of sex with Cam. The way he kept them together as they both came down, as the aftershocks of their orgasms faded. Like he didn’t want to leave her yet. Like he wanted to crawl inside her and stay there.
She rubbed his back with her hands and up into his hair, sliding her cheek against his. Her skin would probably show the evidence of the contact with his stubble tomorrow, but she didn’t care.
Finally, he pulled out, got rid of the condom, and then crawled back beneath the sheets. He enclosed her in his arms, her head resting on the hot skin of his chest over his heart.
“You break me, Tate,” his rocky voice said.
She kissed his skin. “And you put me back together.”
He squeezed her shoulders and as she was falling asleep, she realized she hadn’t shed a tear.
CAM BLINKED IN the darkened light of Tate’s bedroom, sensing an odd light in the room. He could hear something clicking, like nails on tile, and something else . . .
He reached a hand out for Tate but she wasn’t in the bed with him. A roll of his head showed the time was three a.m. What the hell?
He rubbed his eyes, and the other sounds became clearer. Heavy breathing. And muffled sobs. He shot up straight in bed and looked over to the TV. Utope was on, and he could see the back of Tate’s head, her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail.
Another sob ripped from her throat, and he scooted across the bed as the scene on the TV became clear in his head.
Tate’s avatar was in their bedroom. And she was screaming while she rippe
d down every New York City poster off their walls, and then she hauled them into the fireplace and screamed and stomped her feet some more as they ignited. Until all that remained were the blank walls.
Louder sobs from Tate on the floor and then she reared back her arm, like she planned to toss the controller through the TV. It had been weeks ago when he prevented her from throwing her phone and he would prevent this, too.
He stretched out an arm and gripped her wrist. She gasped in surprise, struggling a bit until she whipped her head around to face him.
And then she crumbled. Like a puppet with the strings cut. Her whole body slumped to the floor, and Cam had to slide off the bed to catch her so she wouldn’t hit her head.
She lay sprawled in his lap, crying, sobbing, falling apart like he’d never seen her before. His chest tightened and if he hadn’t felt the overriding need to prop her up, he would have been right there on the floor sobbing with her.
Because Ted’s cancer was back. And Tate wasn’t coming with him.
He cradled her and rocked her and made soothing noises he didn’t know he was capable of. He didn’t tell her it was going to be all right. He didn’t make one single promise except to tell her he loved her.
He hoped it was enough.
When her sobs had died, and her breath was interrupted with intermittent hitching, she leaned back and cupped his face. He raised his hands and swiped her cheeks with his thumbs.
Her gaze searched his face before resting again on his eyes. “No lies this time. No smokescreens. Just me in front of you with my heart splitting open telling you that I can’t go.”
It hurt. Those words. He didn’t trust himself so all he said was “I know.”
“And you might be thinking I’m doing the same thing. That I’m making a decision for someone else but I’m not. This is a decision for me. A selfish decision, because I want to be with my dad for as long as he has left.” Her laugh was sad. “But it’s a sadistic and masochistic decision at the same time, isn’t it? And I guess it’s no different than the last time. I’m breaking both our hearts again.”
Cam’s head was spinning, because there was so much to say.
“But you’re keeping the job.”
He jerked back. “What?”
Her face was set. “You’ll keep the job. And you’ll go and do what you’ve always wanted to do. That’s the way it’s going to be.”
He didn’t want to get into it now. He had his own decisions to make. But they weren’t decisions to be made at three in the morning while he sat on the floor with a devastated Tatum, while a fire fueled by tourist posters raged on the TV behind them.
So he ignored her command. “Well, I didn’t see it coming, what happened to your dad. But this news? I saw it coming as soon as I got the call from Jamie. So maybe that’s why I’m not losing my shit right now. Or maybe it’s because I’m tired. Or maybe it’s because your avatar looks like a nut job stomping her feet.”
On the TV, Tate’s avatar continued to wave her arms and holler. Tate turned back to him, a smile starting to creep onto her face. “I was pretty upset so I dialed up her emotions.”
“I can tell.” Cam pulled out the ponytail holder holding up her mass of hair and finger-combed it into some order, then pulled it back up into a neater ponytail. Tate sat passively in his lap, her eyes half closed. He used to comb her hair for her sometimes in high school. Of course, he never would have admitted it to his friends, but there was something about touching the strands and massaging her scalp that calmed him as much as her.
He gestured toward the TV. “Can we douse the fire so you don’t burn our house down, and go back to sleep?”
She glanced at the TV. “I think the dogs are upset.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Come on, Tate.”
She grabbed a fire extinguisher and put out the fire, then turned off the game and crawled back into bed, where Cam waited with open arms.
She nestled into his chest. “My head’s killing me now.”
“Crying?”
She nodded.
He remembered. She hated crying. Sometimes the headache even turned into a migraine. “You want to take a couple of pills?”
“Nah, that’s okay.” She yawned. “Just need to sleep, I guess. And worry about everything else tomorrow.”
He smoothed his hand down her back. “Yeah, guess so.”
He waited until Tate’s breaths evened out, her face slackened as she slept. But Cam was wide awake now, seeing that fire like a ghost image in front of his eyes. Because no matter what Tate thought, he still had a decision to make. At the moment, it was black and white, but Cam wanted to scratch and claw below the surface, to see if there was a gray area he was missing.
He was still digging when he felt himself drift into sleep along with Tate.
Chapter 17
CAM SHOVED AN extra shirt into his book bag and then put his hands on his hips, surveying his room, making sure he didn’t forget anything.
His mom sat on the bed, smoothing the comforter with her hands. “Camilo, I know once you make a decision, that’s it. That’s final. But—”
“Mom, we talked about this. Over and over again. But it’s done. I made the call already.”
She pursed her lips. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about not telling Tate.”
He clenched his jaw and stared at his book bag. Yeah, that was the one rare decision he wasn’t so sure about. Looking back, he should have talked to Tate first.
He had two options. Tell her and discuss his decision with her while she went off the rails and yelled at him.
Or say fuck it, make the call himself and then spend this night showing her how good they were together before telling her what he’d done.
He went with the latter. And he still wasn’t sure it was the right decision. But what was done was done. Because his hands were bloody from digging, and he hadn’t found any gray.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. But it’s done.”
His mother’s gaze roamed to his stuffed book bag. “What did you tell her about tonight?”
Cam remembered his battery-operated radio. He pulled it down from the top shelf of his closet and stuffed it in a side pocket of his bag. “I told her I want to take her camping, like we used to do. Just the two of us away from all the stress.”
His mom wasn’t happy with him. He knew that. But this was his life now. So all she did was sigh. “What did she say to that?”
Cam winced. Because Tate had smiled and acted excited but the whole thing had felt forced and false. Didn’t she know he could see through all that? But he didn’t call her on it. She had a lot on her mind. Her dad was home from the hospital now, and she’d spent a lot of time making sure he was comfortable. Jamie took off tonight to stay home with him so Cam could take Tate out. So maybe she was nervous about leaving her dad. Cam was going to go with that, because it made me feel better than to think Tate didn’t want to be with him.
It’d been a week and he hadn’t seen her or talked to her much. There was a huge river between them, and Cam wasn’t strong enough to swim through the current.
“Camilo?” his mom asked.
“What?” Had she asked him a question?
She smiled tightly. “Nothing.”
“You doing okay?”
Her smile was genuine this time. “You know I am.”
“You don’t mind that I won’t be home until morning?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.” Her eyes narrowed a little. “But be safe.”
“We get cell service out there—”
She raised her eyebrows. “I wasn’t talking about that kind of safe.”
He rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Ma, I’m twenty-three. I know to use condoms.”
She laughed. “Hey, I’m your mother. And it’s my job to tell you that.”
He waved her off. “Right, right.” She probably didn’t want him to get Tate pregnant. That would just be a cherry on top of this
sundae.
She stood up slowly. “You need any more help with dinner?”
“Nah, I packed everything we need. Thanks for making the chicken salad.”
She patted his shoulder. “I know how much Tate likes it.”
“Yeah, she does.” He fidgeted with the strap of his bag and then hauled it over his shoulder. “Wish me luck.”
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Good luck, sweetie.”
On the way out the door, he grabbed the cooler with their dinner. His mom’s special chicken salad with kaiser rolls, cut fruit, sweet potato chips, and turtle brownies.
All Tate’s favorites.
When he pulled into her driveway, a curtain moved to the left of the door, so he knew he’d been spotted. He waited a minute and was about to get out of his truck when Tate stepped out of the front door and closed it behind her.
She stood on the porch, bag clutched in her hands, staring at him while biting her lip. He wanted to rush to her and grab her in his arms, but this had to be her decision, to come to him. To want to be with him.
She swayed on her feet and then with a jolt, like she’d made her decision suddenly, she jogged down the stairs and to his truck. She threw her bag in the bed along with the rest of the camping gear and then hopped up into the passenger side.
After she was buckled in, she looked at him. Her eyes were clear for the first time in a week. And he began to feel hopeful.
She smiled at him. “Okay, I’m ready.”
He returned her smile. “Bug spray?”
“Check.”
“Toilet paper?”
“Check.”
“Bear Mace?”
“Ch—” Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him.
He laughed. “You know bears are rare where we camp.”
She pointed a finger at him. “See, silly me, but I’m hung up on this word rare.”
He began to back out of her driveway. “I got my gun in the glove box.”
She looked horrified. “You can’t shoot a bear!”
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