All Over You (All Falls Down #3)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  A couple of female students pass me in hoodies and jeans, cups of coffee in one hand and their cellphones in the other. The blonde glances up at me and then back down at her phone before doing a double-take. She opens her mouth and then closes it before opening it again, but she doesn't say anything to me. Instead, she grabs her friend's arm and pulls her away.

  "Did you see her?" she hisses when she thinks I'm out of earshot.

  "See who?" her oblivious friend asks loudly.

  "Her! I think she's the girl who…"

  Her voice fades as I quicken my steps, but the damage is already done. Hearing her whisper about me is like a punch to my gut, twisting my stomach into painful knots. Tears threaten, but I fight them back, refusing to cry when the two are undoubtedly casting glances over their shoulders at me.

  Hunching my shoulders, I hurry toward Boelter Hall, more determined than ever to find some way to clear my name. I'm halfway there when someone grabs my arm, spinning me around.

  "Hey! What―?" The question dies on my lips when I see Cam standing over me, a scowl on his face. He's breathtaking, with his gray eyes on fire and his jaw clenched so tight it pulses with anger. His entire body is taut, rigid as he glares at me, his chest heaving.

  "Hi," I squeak, not sure what else to say to him.

  "Hi?" He blinks his eyes slowly, long lashes momentarily obscuring the stormy gray before they pop open and fixate on me again.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Clearly, that's the wrong question to ask him. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then gently yanks me forward by my arm. I topple into his chest with a little cry of alarm, quickly silenced as his mouth crashes down on mine, stealing my breath. I don't mean to kiss him back, really, I don't, but I can't stop myself. A guttural groan rips from deep within his chest, and then my hands are in his hair, holding him to me as he devours my mouth.

  Little, punishing bites to my bottom lip set off a series of detonations in my lower belly. The painful knots vanish, replaced by liquid flame. Cam pulls me closer, one hand on my nape, angling my head as he plunges his tongue into my mouth, claiming me in the middle of the UCLA campus. Another deep groan vibrates in his chest as my tongue twines with his. He tastes like mint and cherries, a combination quickly unraveling me. My body aches, screaming to feel his big hands on my naked flesh.

  I want him. For his sake, I shouldn't, but I do. So much it's killing me.

  "Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for as he pulls back to nibble on my bottom lip again. I push myself closer, until the hard ridge of his erection presses into my stomach.

  "Fuck," he mumbles, his hand now fisted in my ponytail while the other roves over my ass.

  A sharp whistles sounds from the left.

  "I got next!" someone shouts. "We'll take turns tapping that fine ass."

  "Hell yeah," someone else says, laughing loudly. "I'd fuck the bitch right here."

  In a blink, Cam's mouth is gone from mine. He jerks me behind him, hiding me from sight as he spins on the group of guys cheering and making disgusting comments a few paces away. All I can see past his broad shoulders are snatches of hair and body parts.

  "What the fuck did you just say?" he snarls.

  The group falls quiet as if sensing the menace rolling from him. His muscles are bunched, his feet planted and his hands clenched. Violence hangs thick in the air around him, unmistakable in its intensity. One wrong word, and he's going to seriously hurt someone.

  "Cam," I murmur, placing my hand on his back. "It's okay."

  He shrugs me off and points at the clustered group. "You don't ever talk about a woman like that," he says, voice deathly quiet. "Especially not my woman, you feel me?"

  My heart flutters when he calls me his woman. I like the sound of that. A lot.

  "He's a cop," one of the guys whispers, obviously noticing the badge hanging from a chain around Cam's neck.

  "Sorry, dude," another one mutters. "We were just kidding."

  Cam ignores the platitude, homing in on the guy who spoke first. "You treat women with respect. And you mind your own fucking business when you see one kissing her boyfriend, not make fucked up comments about joining in. Get the fuck out of here before I take your sorry ass in for sexual harassment."

  We stand in silence as the group hurries away, subdued. When they're lost to sight, the sound of their footsteps completely faded, Cam still doesn't turn around to face me. I contemplate touching him again, and quickly decide against it. He's furious, and I know damn well all of that anger isn't because some idiot offered to fuck me on the sidewalk. He's mad―livid―at me.

  "I'm sorry," I whisper.

  My apology seems to break the spell holding him in thrall. He spins to face me, his cheeks flushed with anger. His eyes snap as he looks at me, fury roiling in the depths again. I expect him to yell at me for running off, but he doesn't. His gaze flits across my face, softening incrementally, and then he grabs my arm in a gentle vise.

  "Let's go," he barks, already striding away.

  And I want to go with him. Regardless of what the desire says about me, I think I'd follow him to hell itself, especially when he looks at me with his eyes a contradiction of hard and soft, and snaps orders like he fully expects me to obey. Like he's used to being obeyed without question or complaint. His confidence is sexy as all hell.

  "No," I say anyway, planting my feet and resisting so he either has to drag me with him or stop walking. As pissed off as he is though, he's not the kind of guy who would drag me away kicking and screaming.

  He stops and turns to me. Something familiar flares in his eyes. Desire. A predatory gleam lurks there, dilating his pupils. I think it turns him on when I disobey him.

  "Don't fuck with me right now, kitten," he warns, his voice a low rumble. "I'm about two seconds from pulling my dick out right here on the sidewalk, regardless of who's watching."

  God help me, but this man is going to be my undoing.

  I lick my suddenly dry lips, instantly drawing his gaze to my mouth.

  "That fucking mouth," he groans and then tugs on my arm again as if to get me moving.

  "Unless I'm under arrest, I'm not going with you," I tell him, squaring my jaw.

  His gaze drifts upward. "I should arrest you," he mutters. "At least then your ass would stay where I tell you to."

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  "Don't look at me like that. You ran off to Los Angeles alone, kitten. I'm so pissed, I want to bend you over and spank your ass right here."

  I'm pretty sure he means it, if the expression on his face―half frustrated scowl, half wicked smirk―is any indication. The thought sends another little thrill through me, but I stave it off, refusing to budge until I do what I came here to do.

  "I know you told me not to leave San Francisco, and I'm sorry for ignoring you, but I didn't have a choice," I say, my voice soft and sincere. "I need to find out the truth before I go to prison for a crime I didn't commit."

  Cam stares at me in silence for a long moment. "You think that's why I'm pissed?"

  "Isn't it?"

  He says nothing, but he doesn't have to. I know that's not the only reason he's angry with me. I dumped him over the phone without explanation, and then ran off on my own. Before I can find the nerve to broach that particular topic, though, he sighs heavily and mutters under his breath. All I manage to catch is the word kitten, and what is quite possibly another threat to spank my ass.

  "What's your plan?" he asks then.

  I blink at him. "What?"

  "Your plan. I assume that's why you're here." He arches a brow at me, the corner of his lips tilting upward. The cocky bastard is laughing at me again.

  "Yes," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest when he lets me go. "Of course I have a plan."

  He eyes me silently and then twirls his finger in a hurry it up motion.

  "Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?" I ask, rolling my eyes at him.

  His smile grows.

>   "I'm leaving now." I brush past him, headed toward the Court of Sciences and Boelter Hall. When he falls into step beside me, I sigh in relief. As crazy as he makes me, he has a badge and I don't. I have a feeling people are going to be a lot more willing to answer his questions than they would be mine.

  When we arrive at Boelter Hall a few minutes later, classes are just letting out. A steady stream of students enter and exit through the two sets of double doors. The branches of two massive trees hang over the entrance, casting it in shade. Two boys sit beside an attractive young brunette on the low wall announcing the name of the building, arguing back and forth about something. She's completely oblivious to them, her gaze riveted to the textbook in her hands.

  "Excuse me," Cam says, stepping in front of the group. He holds up his badge before letting it fall against his chest again. "My name is Detective Lewis with the San Francisco Police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your classmate, Rory Clark."

  The girl lifts her gaze from her book and blinks, her mouth open in a little 'O' of surprise as she takes in Cam in all his tattooed, casual sexiness.

  "Sure," one guy says, taking his glasses off and then putting them right back on. He turns to look at me, his gaze roving over my face before he dismisses me as unimportant and turns back to Cam. "I'm Adam, and this is Penny, and Jonathan. How can we help?"

  A couple of students passing by slow as if to listen in to our conversation, but hurry their steps when they notice me standing there. I'm not sure if they recognize me like the two girls from earlier did, or if they think I'm a police officer, too. I don't think I want to know.

  "Did you know Mr. Clark?" Cam asks, slipping into cop mode. His expression is stoic, his gaze focused on the group before him. He tilts his body toward them like they're having an actual conversation instead of being interrogated, trying to put them at ease, I think.

  I watch him quietly. He takes his job so seriously, and it's obvious he's good at what he does. Another pang goes through me at the thought of him losing his career because of me. Even if he won't admit it, there's a very real possibility that could happen. Especially now that they've located Rory's body in San Francisco. I've watched enough Law & Order to know that makes any sort of relationship between us not only impossible, but also dangerous for him. He has to know it, too.

  And yet, he's here anyway, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind.

  Why?

  I doubt he came here to find me simply because he wants to sleep with me.

  "We had a class together last semester," Jonathan says. "Nice guy, incredibly smart, but I didn't really know him."

  "Neither did I," Adam says when Cam looks at him.

  "I did."

  Cam turns to Penny, who blushes and shifts her gaze to me and then back to him. Curiosity shines in her blue eyes, as if she's wondering why I didn't introduce myself, but she doesn't seem to recognize me, either.

  "We were friends," she says, her voice full of sadness.

  Both Adam and Jonathan scoot closer to her, as if to shield her. Jonathan slips his hand into hers, holding it tightly.

  "When was the last time you saw him?" Cam asks her.

  "A couple of days before he left campus. Um, Friday, I think."

  "Did he seem distraught or upset to you?"

  I tense, waiting for Penny to point at me and tell him yes, that I made him that way. The fear is completely irrational given that she didn't seem to recognize me a few moments ago, but I can't help but hold my breath, waiting for her to call me a murderer and send the entire student body after me.

  "A little," she says, biting her bottom lip. "I mean, he's been upset a lot lately. When I first met him, he was really laid back and cool, very gregarious. The last few months though, he's been sad and depressed, withdrawn. There was a rumor going around that he wasn't able to pay his tuition, but I don't know if that was true or not. He didn't really talk about it."

  "Did he mention anything about why he was upset?"

  "He said he was having girl problems."

  "Girl problems?"

  "Him and his girlfriend broke up again, I guess."

  "Again?"

  "They fought a lot," Penny says, shrugging.

  "Apparently, he was dating some high maintenance model who used to go to school here," Adam supplies, one leg bouncing up and down against the wall. "Ivy or something. No one really believed him though. I mean, stranger things have happened, but models don't usually fall for nerds."

  "Not unless they're rich," Jonathan agrees.

  "So you never met his girlfriend?" Cam asks, looking at Penny.

  "No. I don't think anyone did."

  "Oh?"

  "She didn't live here," Penny explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Honestly, I'm not even sure if Rory ever saw her in person. It was one of those online relationships, you know? He spent a lot of time holed up in his room, or on his phone, talking to her. Who knows if she was really who she said she was? People lie online all the time."

  Despite the fact that her comment adds credence to my claims that Fake Ivy isn't me, my shoulders sag. If no one ever met her, proving that she isn't me is going to be a lot harder than I need it to be. I think Cam knows it, too. He's quiet for a moment, jotting in his little notebook, before he glances up again.

  "Do you know who might know more about his relationship?" he asks.

  "Tommy Wahler or Jessica Mabry might," Penny says. "They were really close with him. Tommy was his roommate, so he'd know more than anyone, I would think. I haven't seen either of them around today, though."

  "Any idea where we might find them?"

  "Tommy is probably with his parents," Adam says. "He's pretty torn up about the whole thing. He was the last one who saw Rory."

  "Any idea what they talked about?"

  Adam shrugs.

  "He said Rory was kind of out of it," Penny mumbles. "Tommy thought he'd get over it, so he didn't push when Rory refused to tell him what was going on. And then Rory left and never came back."

  "What about Miss Mabry? Any idea where I might find her?"

  "She's probably with Tommy." Penny's gaze drifts from Cam to me again. If she wonders who I am, or why I'm here, she doesn't say anything though. "She and Tommy are dating."

  "I'd imagine they've already told LAPD everything they know," Jonathan murmurs. "Their detectives have been here asking questions as well."

  Cam pulls a couple of business cards out of his pocket and holds them out to Jonathan and Penny. "If you think of anything else that might help, please call me."

  "Of course," Penny says, looking at the card before sliding it into her textbook.

  Jonathan slips his into his breast pocket and nods.

  "Thank you for your time," Cam murmurs politely before leading me away.

  I follow after him, dejected.

  "You okay?" he asks me once we're out of hearing range, leaning close.

  I nod.

  "You satisfied now?"

  I nod again, more slowly this time.

  "Good. Then let's go."

  I don't argue with him this time. There's nothing for me to find here today.

  chapter ten

  come undone

  "Where are you parked?" Cam asks me when we reach the small parking lot outside the UCLA Police Department a few minutes later. His SUV is crammed between two cruisers, a placard in his front windshield identifying him as law enforcement.

  "Near the Alumni Center," I mumble, my gaze drifting around the lot before returning to him.

  He cocks a brow. "Gonna need more than that, kitten. I didn't go to school here."

  "Other side of campus."

  "We'll come back for your car later," he decides, strolling toward the passenger door of the SUV. He hits a button on his key and then holds the door open for me. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here."

  "I can't leave my car," I say, dragging my feet. If I get in his Rover with him, there's no way I'm going back t
o my motel room alone like I know I should. How bad is it that, even knowing the risks for him, I don't want to go back to my room alone?

  I'm so screwed.

  "We'll come back for it," he promises with a little, knowing smirk.

  I try to think up another objection, but none come to me. When a UCLA officer pulls into the lot, I don't hesitate to hurriedly dive into Cam's Land Rover, my heart thumping hard.

  Great. Now I'm scared of the police.

  "You're okay," Cam murmurs as I fumble with the seatbelt, my hands shaking. He places one of his over mine, stilling it. "No one is coming to arrest you today, sweetheart."

  I nod mutely and relinquish the belt, letting him latch it around me. I want to ask when they're coming to arrest me, but the words won't form. Knowing isn't going to make me feel any better or change my mind about being with Cam. He's relentless, and I'm tired of fighting my attraction to him. Right or wrong, I want him.

  Once he's sure the seatbelt is secure around me, he slams my door and jogs around to the driver's side. "You ready?" he asks, slipping on his own belt and then backing out of the space. His gaze rakes across my body, his eyes darkening, and I know he isn't talking about this ride. He's talking about everything else. About me and him.

  A little shiver of anticipation works its way through me.

  "Yes," I say, my decision already made. It was made the moment he pulled me into his arms the first time, I think.

  He drives in silence for several long moments, the hum of the tires on the roadway the only sound in the vehicle. And then he sighs. "What am I going to do with you, kitten?"

  "I'm staying a few miles away," I mumble even though I know that's not what he means.

  He grunts but doesn't otherwise respond.

  I watch out the window as we pass by the reporters camped just outside the campus entrance. None rush the vehicle with cameras and microphones drawn like they do in the movies. Instead, they observe from a respectable distance, no one even making a move in our direction. I still tense, holding my breath until we're safely through the throng and speeding away from campus.