He peeled off down her street. “Tatum, if there is a choice between being mauled by a bear, or shooting it, I’m going to fucking shoot it.”
“What if it’s a mommy or something?”
“So you want me to let it maul me?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe it’ll just give you a warning scratch.”
He laughed. “A warning scratch? A warning would be severing my heard or some other vital limb.”
Tate crossed her arms in a huff. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He reached over and tugged until she dropped her arms, then he laced his hand with hers. “I won’t shoot any bears. We’re going to eat my mom’s chicken salad and make a fire and cook dessert moon pies and then sleep in the tent in the bed of my truck.”
She squeezed his hand. “I bet we could sacrifice some chicken salad to the bear and make our getaway.”
“Shut up about this damn hypothetical bear.”
She giggled, and the sound trickled over his skin like a blast of hot air.
The last time Cam had visited Ehrhart Park, it’d been shortly before he left for basic training. He and Tate had done this very thing—camped out in the bed of a truck. Although at that time, it’d been a rusted-out Ford that didn’t like to start about seventy-five percent of the time.
He pulled into the parking lot and waited while Tate hopped out and shoved aside the gate, which had a big sign notifying them no vehicles were to travel down it. Everyone in town ignored it, taking off down the road farther into the park. It was the popular teenage make-out spot, and Cam felt a little old, but he was trying to do this right. And he knew how much Tate liked to sleep outside.
She climbed back inside the truck, her skin showing a pink blush of excitement. “Buckle up,” he said, as he took off down the road, the truck’s shocks getting a workout on the uneven road.
He remembered the route they’d always taken, even though it’d been years, and finally came to a stop at a clearing next to a small stream.
Cam looked over at Tate, her face taking on a pretty glow in the light of the setting sun. “Here we are.”
She turned to him with a smile. “Haven’t been here since . . .” Her voice trailed off, her expression sobering.
“Yeah, me either.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Let’s get set up and then we can eat, all right?”
She nodded, and they both hopped out of the truck. Setting up the tent together was like riding a bike. They each knew their role and the two-man tent was up in less than ten minutes.
They gathered sticks for the fire, starting with a pile of small kindling. Cam struck a piece of flint and lit a spark into a clump of lint he’d pulled out of the dryer that morning.
By the time the sun was half gone over the horizon, they had a decent fire and sat cuddled together, eating sandwiches and crunching chips.
Up in the mountains where they were, along the edge of the Appalachian Trail, the temperature dropped quickly once the sun set, so Cam spread a blanket over them, placing Tate between his legs so she reclined on his chest while he braced himself on the trunk of a tree. He picked up a grape and popped it into his mouth, then did the same for Tate.
He wrapped his arms around her and dropped his chin on the top of her head as they stared at the fire.
Tell her now, a voice whispered in his head. But damn, he was so comfortable. And he didn’t want to fight. He wanted to have this night with Tate. He wanted to prove to her that what they had was worth fighting for. It was worth sacrificing things.
She had to see that, didn’t she?
“Did you date a lot in college?”
The question surprised him. It wasn’t accusatory or meek. She tilted her head back a little with a small smile, which eased him somewhat.
“Uh, no, not really. I didn’t date.”
“No?”
He shrugged. “College was . . . fun. I had a nice time. But I wasn’t looking for anything serious and most girls I . . . spent time with . . . weren’t looking for anything serious either.”
She chuckled and squeezed his hands. “So you didn’t leave broken hearts in your wake back at Bowler?”
He kissed her temple. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
She fell silent and it was several minutes before she spoke again. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know what for, so he didn’t speak and waited her out.
She took a deep breath. “I was looking forward to being with you at Bowler second semester, you know? Then Dad got sick and I messed up.”
“And you didn’t try to go to community college?”
“I didn’t have the same goals anymore. What I thought I wanted in high school . . . well, it wasn’t what I wanted anymore.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and drew her closer to his body. The fire was hot on his face and her body was warm and soft against him. Her hair smelled like flowers, and he wanted to stay in this moment forever. “What do you want now?”
She broke from his grip and turned in his arms. She sat between his legs on her knees, her hands on his thighs. The fire burned bright behind her, backlighting her body so she was a sexy silhouette of big hair and curvy woman. He clenched his fists so he didn’t grab her.
Those hands on his thighs crept higher, higher, until they reached where his legs met his body. And that was when he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. “What’re you doing?”
She shifted closer. On all fours in front of him, knees on the ground and hands on his thighs. Her face was so close, he felt the lightest brush of her lips on his. “I’m answering your question.”
His mind scrambled. “What question was that?”
Another brush of her lips, a swipe of her tongue along his jaw and back to his ear. He shut his eyes when she sucked his earlobe into her mouth and tongued his earring. She released it and her voice was steam and heat and promise. “You asked me what I want. And I want you.”
He moaned. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant, but I don’t know. All I know is what I want. Right now. And that’s you, Camilo Ruiz.”
CAM SMELLED AMAZING. Like campfire and chocolate moon pies and man. Every muscle in her body, every cell was drawn to him.
She brushed her lips over his jaw and back to this mouth, teasing the corners of his lips before she swiped out her tongue for a taste.
Because she wanted Cam tonight. She wanted to remember this when he was off being the successful man she always knew he’d be. She’d said good-bye once already when she saw him off to basic training. And that would be the last time she uttered those words to him. This time, she’d say good-bye with her body. Because come morning, she’d tell him she was letting him go. Off the hook. Too bad, his hook was in her too, so when he pulled it out, it’d leave her bloody and gouged and broken. She wasn’t going to think about that yet.
Because right now, Cam’s tongue was slipping in between her lips, and his hands were gripping her face. And then all she could think about were the sensations that were racing through her body.
He pulled away with a growl. “Tent.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Go in the tent. I’m putting the fire out, then I’m coming to show you how badly I want you, too.”
Okay then, that worked for her. She rose on wobbly legs and walked backward to the tent as Cam poured water on the fire. Thick plumes of gray smoke billowed above them. Then his dark eyes turned to her, a wicked grin on her lips. She squealed a laugh, turned and ran, the cracking of branches letting her know Cam was on her heels.
She dove into the tent and Cam was a second after her, careful not to crush her as his body covered hers.
He gripped her head hard, his thumb on the underside of her jaw, directing her right where he wanted her. And she gripped his wrist and gave in, succumbing to him.
He covered her face and neck in openmouthed kisses, and somehow she pulled his shirt off. She ran her fingers up his sides and h
e shivered when she hit where he was ticklish. He huffed into her neck, his stubble rasping her skin.
Her top came off. Then her bra. And his mouth moved lower. Sucking her nipples, nuzzling her ribs, dipping a tongue in her belly button.
When she was naked before him, he sat back on his heels, the top button of his jeans undone so she could see where that happy trail led.
He gazed down at her body, one hand caressing her calf.
“So beautiful, Tatum,” he murmured.
She felt it, when he looked at her like that. She could have lain there forever with his hot eyes on her body. She spread her legs wider in invitation. “So are you, Camilo.”
He kicked off his boots and pants, then bent and pressed a kiss on each hip. He dipped his head between her legs, his nose brushing her clit as he began to lick.
And lick he did. And suck. And hum, like she was an instrument and he the only one with the musical pick. She raised her arms over her head and arched her back and made all the sounds she wanted. Whimpers and shouts. Because no one could hear them in the middle of nowhere under the star-filled sky.
When she came, it wasn’t a thunderclap, but a slow-moving storm. She moaned and rode it out and let it linger until she was dried out and boneless.
Then Cam was above her again, his breath hot in her ear, his hand cradling her head, telling her he loved her, telling her they were right. And she was too tired to cry. So she kissed his biceps beside her head, waiting while he rolled on a condom, then entered her slowly on a hissed-out breath.
She raised her lips and wrapped her legs around his waist. But Cam had other ideas. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She rose above him, bracing herself on his chest.
He gripped her hips, hard. “Ride me, Tatum.”
She liked being on top. It hit all the right spots. But she didn’t want this to end. And she wondered if she kept him from coming, kept him inside her, would she never have to say good-bye?
But his fingers gripped hard, and he clenched his jaw. “You gotta move.”
She didn’t want to. Because once she started, there would be an end. To this night. To them.
But she wanted to feel him one last time more than she wanted to delay the end. So she squeezed her thighs and moved. First she rose up, until all but the tip of him remained inside. She swirled her hips a little while Cam went ballistic beneath her, swearing and arching his neck.
And then she lowered herself. And rode Cam hard.
He cursed more and so did she. Because there was something desperate about this time. About the way he looked at her with eyes on fire and the way her face burned from it.
When he came, his eyes, those dark, hot eyes, stayed on her the whole time and she wondered if a strong wind came, would she blow away like ash?
She slowly lowered herself on top of him, as he churned his hips so his sated length slid in and out of her. He pressed kisses to her face and told her he loved her.
She was too tired and drained to say it back.
He made her turn to look at him and his brows dipped. “You okay?”
Nope. She went for honesty. “Not really.”
Concern crossed over his face, his eyes perusing her body. But he must have known it wasn’t physical. “Let me go take a leak. I’ll come back and we’ll talk, all right?”
She didn’t want to do that, but for now, she just nodded.
Another kiss, to each of her eyelids, then he pulled on his pants and shoved his feet into his unlaced boots. With one look back at her, tangled among the sleeping bag, he walked out.
She fell back onto the pillow, wondering how they didn’t put a hole in the air mattress below them. Sex with Cam had always been good. But never that good.
She wished she could leave now. Before he got back. Leave him a note that she couldn’t do the good-bye this time. But that was the coward’s way out. And she had to be a big girl now.
Cam’s phone pinged somewhere beneath the rumpled sleeping bags. Tate rummaged around until she found it and noticed it was lit with a missed call from his mom and a voice mail.
She craned her neck out of the tent but didn’t see Cam. She didn’t know why he had to go so far to take a piss. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him without his pants on.
She bit her lip and then swiped to listen to the voice mail. If it was an emergency, she’d go hunt Cam down. But as she put the phone up to her ear, it wasn’t Mrs. Ruiz’s voice in her ear. It was a male voice. With a slight New York accent.
“Hello, Mr. Ruiz. We’re sorry to hear you won’t be joining us at Marino Security this fall. We were really impressed with you when you interned . . .”
And that’s when her arm gave out. The phone fell with a muffled thud onto the bedding below, the voice still droning on in low, indecipherable tones.
Tate’s chest tightened, constricting her breathing, and her toes went numb because of her kneeling position.
He’d done it. That asshole had turned down the job. To stay in Paradise. To stay in motherfucking Paradise. She pulled on her clothes and then crawled out of the tent. She knelt in the truck, staring at the phone like it was her worst enemy.
She heard the crunching of boots but she was in a tunnel. A tunnel that held her pinned in place as the oxygen was slowly sucked out. She didn’t want this. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to be saying good-bye.
The toes of his boots stopped in front of her and then his warm brown eyes were looking into hers as he knelt in front of her. A hand caressed the side of her head. “Tate? What’s wrong?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Tate? You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
Her eyes popped open. “I didn’t mean to but I listened to your voice mail.”
“Okay . . .”
“You did it,” she whispered.
He frowned. “Did what?”
“You turned down the job.”
For a beat, he didn’t move, and then he sucked in a sharp breath and stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
She stumbled to her feet, her legs screaming as blood rushed into them. “Shit? Shit? That’s all you’re going to say for making this decision without me?”
He reached out for her waist. “It wasn’t like that—”
She took a step away from him and his hand hung there between them before he dropped it to his side. “Tate.”
She shook her head. “This was supposed to be good-bye. That’s what this date was. And I was okay with that and I loved every single minute of it. And you were keeping this secret—”
He pointed at her. “I wasn’t keeping this a secret. I planned to tell you tonight. But first I wanted to show you why this”—he waggled his finger between them—“matters. Why this time, we can make it last.” He waved the hand at her. “But nope. You’re still being Tatum fucking stubborn Ellison, thinking you know what’s best.”
The words flew at her, some digging into her heart, others glancing off her thickened skin. “But that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You made the decision not to take that job without me, and it affects us both!”
“There’s a difference. I’m making this decision because it benefits you and me.”
She shook her head. “How does this benefit you? You’re giving up your dream job. Your future!”
He took a step forward, his face like thunder. “I’m not a martyr, Tatum. I’m being selfish, too. Because I want you. And I’m not giving up my future, because my future is with you.”
She stumbled back and had to grip the tent to keep herself upright. The force of his words and the meaning behind them was like an electric shock to her heart. Her mouth opened and closed, no sound escaping, because how was she supposed to respond to that?
But it didn’t matter that for once, she didn’t have a comeback.
Because Cam wasn’t done. “Fuck it, though. Just fuck it. Because I’m finally fighting for this relationship, and you want to
be pissed and dream up supposed resentment ten years from now. What about now, Tatum?” He slammed his fist into his chest, his voice rising. “I’m supposed to deny what I want and who I love because you’re worried about feelings years from now?”
He closed his eyes and hung his head between his shoulders, shaking it back and forth, hands on his hips. When he spoke again, he didn’t look as angry. He looked disappointed and wrung out. “If I’m the only one fighting for us, then it’s never going to work. Let’s head back.”
It was like his words entered her brain on delay. And it wasn’t until he began throwing his stuff in his pack that she realized what her outburst had done. She scrambled toward him. “Cam, I’m sorry. Let’s stay here and . . .”
But he wasn’t listening, collapsing the tent in seconds and pointing her in the direction of the passenger side door of the cab. “Get in.”
What had she done? “No, Camilo, I’m sorry—”
He held up a hand, silencing her, and his jaw flexed once. “Please don’t use that name. Now get in the car, because I’m taking you home.”
After she buckled herself into the truck, and Cam began driving, she let the tears flow. She sat in the passenger side of his truck and cried to herself as softly as she could. She wanted to ask if she’d completely ruined them. She wanted to ask if they were beyond repair. How many times could a couple fuck up before they split for good?
And why the hell did she think she could ever live without him now that she’d had him again?
When they pulled into her driveway, her tears had dried. She unbuckled her seat belt and sat in the car, refusing to leave.
“You gotta get out, Tate.”
She turned to him, knowing she looked a hot mess. “Is this it?”
He hesitated, and every second was a hammer blow to her heart. “I think we both need to think about what we really want.”
The tears threatened again. She opened up the passenger side door and slid out. Right before she shut it behind her, she whispered, “I want you.”
She didn’t know if he heard her. But she felt his eyes on her back as she walked into her house.
Make It Last Page 16
