What did that mean? Suddenly suffused with self-consciousness, she started to close her legs.
“No,” he said sharply. Then he gentled his voice. “Please keep them open.”
Taking a shuddery breath, she complied.
He closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head. When he looked back up, he smiled, but he still didn’t move.
God, she was dying for him to touch her. She opened her legs wider and drew her fingers over her clit, hoping to draw his attention there, to inspire him.
“You are so impossibly gorgeous,” he said, setting his knees on the bed on either side of her as she laid back on it, but still not touching her.
She reached for the condom again. She was going to scream if he didn’t take her right now.
“Not yet,” he said, laying one finger on her stomach, above her belly button, and slowly drawing it up her body, coming to rest in her cleavage.
She sucked in a breath, arching her back to try to get more pressure from him. He didn’t comply. In fact, he let his hand float up so that it was no longer touching her, making her cry out her frustration.
“Goddamn you,” she whispered.
“I’m pretty sure that’s already taken care of,” he said, and she would have argued the point, but he let the finger float back down and settle on a nipple, teasing it with the lightest of touches. She twisted her torso, chasing after him as he removed his hand once more. Her breasts ached. Her vagina ached. Every part of her needed him.
“Oh!” she said aloud, then laughed at herself as his eyebrows lifted inquisitively. She’d been lying here like she was half dead, but didn’t she have hands? Ha! She could make him do what she wanted. Triumph-spiked lust surged through her, and she went straight for his dick with both hands.
He hissed as she made contact, but before she could really get a grip, he grabbed her hands and pushed them away. Kept pushing them until her arms were above her head on the bed. Keeping one hand pressed down firmly on her wrists to keep her immobilized, he said, “Patience, baby, patience. Don’t I always give you what you need?”
The words alone were almost enough to send her over the edge.
He didn’t wait for a response. Keeping one hand on her wrists, he let the other trail slowly down her body, stroking the side of her face, her neck, sliding over her breast and stopping to tease her nipple. But as soon as she’d resigned herself to enduring that particular brand of sweet torture for a while, he was on the move again, his hand trailing down over her soft belly and into the hot moisture of her opening.
“Oh God,” she moaned, because he knew. He always knew. He knew that by denying her, by not giving her what she thought she wanted, he was actually giving her what she needed.
She bucked wildly, chasing his hand, even though she knew it was futile. As expected, he removed it.
He’d been kneeling over her this whole time while he worked her over, but now he lowered his body enough that he could whisper in her ear. “Was that what you needed?”
She nodded violently. But no, that wasn’t right. She needed his cock. So she switched to shaking her head equally adamantly.
He stopped her with a kiss. Oh, his lips! She’d forgotten about them. Her world had shrunk to the size of the fingertips he had been using to conduct his masterful assault. But now his lips were on hers, hard and demanding—but only for a moment.
She cried out again. Damn him! A vague rustling sound was replaced by his lips at her ear. And by, thank God, his cock at her entrance. “Is this what you need, then?” he rasped.
“Yes!” she said. “Yes!”
He slid into her, and she was finally full. The relief as her body stretched to accommodate him made her gasp.
“Oh, fuck,” he ground out, and he stopped moving entirely, frozen in space for a very long moment while he contorted his face like he was bearing an impossibly heavy weight.
Then he lost control.
And she loved it. Her triumph was back because she’d finally managed to tip him from his measured, controlled approach into…this.
He was slamming into her, over and over, harder and harder. His hands pressed her hips into the bed, rendering her immobile while he pistoned into her.
Her hands were still lying on the bed above her head, so she grabbed hold of the rails of the headboard, keening as she held on for the storm that was barreling down on her. She gave a vague thought of trying to hold it back, to prolong the pleasure, but it was too much. It demanded her submission.
With a scream, she came. Harder and dirtier and longer than she had imagined possible.
“Jane!” Cameron cried, and with a final few pumps, he slumped onto her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and let the truth wash over her.
She loved him.
She wasn’t “falling for him,” which was how she’d phrased it in her mind when she’d been warning herself off him, when she’d fled his bed the other morning. No, that sentiment was weak, limp. It angered her with its inadequacy.
She loved him. Wildly, fiercely, with everything in her.
She loved everything about him. His entire past. Everything that had brought him to her.
And as if that revelation wasn’t enough, suddenly, from nowhere, something Wendy had said to her recently popped into her head. She squirmed out from under Cameron and sat back against the headboard, relishing his cranky grunt as he tried to prevent her from leaving his arms.
“I need to ask you a question,” she said.
He must have heard the seriousness in her tone, because he sat up, too, and arranged himself across from her, cross-legged.
“Wendy said this thing to me a week or so ago. She said that I’m only adventurous through my books, or in my cosplay personas. Like, I think she was commenting on the fact that I’m pretty risk-averse. Do you think that’s true?”
“I think that might have been true historically.” Cameron’s brow furrowed and he spoke slowly, like he was struggling to articulate his thoughts. “You took some really big risks and got burned pretty badly, and I think maybe you overcorrected for a while there.”
“What risks? I’ve had a totally sheltered life. I haven’t seen…” She gestured at him. “Nearly the stuff you’ve seen.”
“I’m talking about emotional risks.”
Yes. Yes. That was right. That’s what Wendy had meant. “You mean like I took an emotional risk when I confronted my dad?”
“Yeah. And when you asked Felix to move in. Both times, you got majorly slapped down.”
“Huh.” He was right. It was so obvious now. Why had she never seen this before? “And then I became the ultimate good girl. Which, to be fair, I mostly did because I had to. My brother busted his ass keeping us afloat, and he didn’t need any trouble from me. But then it kind of…became real?” She didn’t know how to describe it. “Like a self-fulfilling prophecy. And now I’m the responsible one. Levelheaded, reliable Jane.”
Cameron nodded. “I get that. But look at you lately. Dangling off the CN Tower, making out on roller coasters.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Having wild sex with your babysitting charge. So I think everything you’re saying might have been true at one point, but not anymore. You broke yourself free.”
She tilted her head. There was one common denominator in those examples he’d given. “I think you broke me free.”
“No. You broke yourself free.” His tone was fierce, insistent. “I’m glad I could be along for the ride, but you did it. You, Jane, are pretty badass.”
She laughed because she was delighted. But also because it was true. She was pretty badass.
She reached a hand out and ran it lightly over Cameron’s angel tattoo.
He shivered, and she made a plan to take her biggest risk yet.
Chapter Twenty-One
FRIDAY—ONE DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING
Cam woke up on Friday morning with one thought in his head: today was the day he’d have to see his mother.
God, he had missed her
.
That thought was quickly followed by a second one: Jane had really fucked him over.
Because it was her fault that he was lying here getting all emotional about missing his mommy. And this after he’d trotted out the whole pathetic story of Alicia, which he had never told a single soul. What the fuck?
He didn’t do this. He didn’t wallow in the past or throw himself pity parties. He owned his mistakes, and their consequences, and got on with things. Normally.
But the last couple of days had been such a roller coaster—the particular metaphor that arrived in his head did not go unnoticed—of emotion. It was all Jane’s doing. She had…put the whammy on him, to use Gia’s wording.
It was like she was…made for him.
Cam fancied himself decent in bed. He’d learned pretty early on that if the woman he was entertaining enjoyed herself, it made things better for him, too. So he had become good at reading tiny signs, at delayed gratification. But it was ultimately selfish.
But the way he could play Jane like a violin? Holy shit. It was almost scary. The attraction between them was out of this world. He’d never experienced anything like it, so searing, so out of control. He couldn’t control himself—that was precisely the problem. Take yesterday afternoon. He had embarked on a mission to tease her into orgasm, to drive her crazy by meting out his touch. He’d wanted to blow her mind, to make her feel so good that she let go of everything and became his goddess.
But he’d lost it. He’d utterly and totally lost it. He’d been completely wild, would have done anything, made any sacrifice, at that moment, to not have to let go of her.
He sighed and rolled over, sore from yesterday’s exertions. He wasn’t blaming her. None of it was her fault. In fact, he owed her a huge debt. Sure, he was sitting here having a little Kumbaya-emo moment, but it was better than the alternative, which was shivering at the bottom of a PTSD freak-out. She’d saved him from that.
Because she knew. She somehow knew what to do. Drive into town! Make some hats! Even after they’d gotten out of bed yesterday and the rest of the wedding party had come back from their hike, she’d subtly manipulated things so they stayed inside. She had volunteered him to drive to town to pick up pizzas.
She took care of him.
Christie had never done that.
Christie had been fond of him in her way. While he was around, she enjoyed him. But he could see now that she hadn’t looked after him. Certainly hadn’t ever kept his needs front of mind.
Had anyone ever done that for him? Alicia, he supposed, in the immature way of young love, at least in the beginning. But not ultimately. Not in any real way.
Which brought him back to…his mother.
She had put his needs first. Had truly cared for him. At least as long as he’d let her. He’d always been a challenging kid, but those years after Alicia, he’d done nothing but push her away. Shove her away, violently and with all his strength, making sure with his actions that she’d have to give up on him.
And things had never been the same. They had a cordial but distant, and ultimately not very meaningful, relationship. Which had suited him fine because he didn’t do the emo shit.
There was a knock on his door.
He sat up, panicking. It had to be Jane.
He wasn’t sure he could deal with Jane, not the same morning he had to see Mom.
Because it wasn’t just the spectacular sex that had him marveling over how well matched he and Jane were.
It was everything else. The way she acted like a fucking grilled cheese sandwich he’d made for her was a lobster dinner. The way her cheeks flushed with excitement when she was playing Xena. The way she ruthlessly faced her fears.
He was in love with Jane.
It was a huge fucking problem.
As glorious as it had been to watch her have a psychological breakthrough yesterday afternoon in bed, it was also his worst nightmare—because it meant it was time for him to step away.
Jane had shut herself down as the logical response to the hands she’d been dealt—namely men who hadn’t deserved her love. Now that she was coming out of her shell, she would give her heart to someone else.
That someone could not be him, as much as he might wish otherwise. She had deserved better than Felix, but she also deserved better than him—better than a rough, ex-army, ex-criminal with no prospects.
The knocking continued. He had been trying to become an honorable man. So here was his chance to do the right thing.
He took a deep breath and swung open the door.
It was Jay.
“Hey,” his brother said with a guarded smile. “Mom texted. She’s close. She’ll be here in fifteen.”
Cam was stupidly relieved to be able to postpone his reckoning with Jane. He’d gotten himself so twisted into knots, convinced it was Jane at his door. But why did he assume that there even had to be a big reckoning? Here he was imagining that he’d need to explicitly tell her they couldn’t have a relationship, but when had she ever asked for one? He was no catch—he’d just been thinking as much—and Jane was smart.
“Ha!” He laughed at himself.
Jay’s brow knit in confusion. “Thought you might want to…shower or something.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Thanks, man. I’ll be down soon.”
* * *
“Oh my God, I’m so nervous!” Elise said.
“Why?” Wendy asked. “You’ve met Jay’s mom before.”
“I know, but only a couple times, and don’t forget, this is my wedding.”
“I’m pretty sure no one has forgotten that,” Gia said, winking at Jane.
The girls were sitting on a bench outside the main building.
And they were not doing anything.
They were not doing anything!
It was such a weird feeling. Jane’s hands felt like they needed to, like, weave something, or randomly do some calligraphy. She settled for tapping them manically on her legs.
“Why are you so nervous?” Elise asked, her attention drawn by the tapping.
“I’m not nervous.” Jane stilled her hands. She was getting good at lying. Which should probably concern her, but she consoled herself that she had a greater purpose in mind.
“Good morning.”
They all turned at the sound of Jay’s voice. Cameron was with him, which shouldn’t have been a surprise since it was his mother they were waiting for. But still. He was looking right at her, but quickly looked away, as did she. The tips of her ears burned. God, it was like they were in junior high.
In her search for something to look at that wasn’t Cameron, Jane’s eyes landed on Gia. Well. That wasn’t helping. Gia’s eyebrows were sky-high, and she was looking questioningly at Jane.
A gray sedan pulled into the parking lot, providing a welcome distraction.
Jay walked to greet it. Cameron hung back.
A short, slim woman in a jean skirt and black T-shirt disembarked the car. Jay immediately enveloped her in a hug. Mrs. Smith managed to look like both her sons. She had Cameron’s strong jaw and Jay’s thick, dirty-blond hair, though hers was streaked with white.
Elise started to step forward, too, but Mrs. Smith’s eyes slipped right past her, past everyone, like she was looking for someone in particular.
Which of course she was.
When her gaze landed on Cameron, she stopped still, like a statue, both hands pressed against her heart.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, walking toward her. His voice sounded a little off, though probably not enough that anyone besides Jane noticed. It wasn’t an overt waver, just a slight change in pitch.
“My boy,” she said, choking on the words as she started to cry. “My sweet boy.”
He bent over to hug her, and after a couple beats, stood up, picking her up off the ground entirely and holding her tight to him. His mom’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Jane could see the tension in her arm muscles, she held him so tight.
Elise sniffed, drawing Jane�
��s attention to the lump in her own throat. She turned and grabbed her friend’s hand.
Just when the moment became almost painful, started to feel like they were intruding on something too private, Cameron set his mother down. She moved to Elise next, and Jane was vaguely aware of the two women kissing and hugging. But mostly she watched Cameron. He had walked to the edge of the parking lot, and there he remained, looking out at the road as if he were standing at the edge of a lake or contemplating a vista. She wished she could see his face, but his back had been turned to them through the entire reunion.
“This is my friend Jane,” said Elise, drawing Jane’s attention from Cameron.
Mrs. Smith smiled and offered her hand, which Jane took. It was strange, to be holding Cameron’s mother’s hand, the hand that had no doubt held his so many times. I’m in love with your son! She wanted to burst out with the truth that was rattling around in her chest, to confess as if Cameron’s mother had benedictory abilities, as if she knew the secret to winning her son’s heart.
But Jane was pretty sure no one knew that secret.
Yet.
But she was going to give it a go—she was going to open her eyes and jump.
* * *
The day had passed quickly and without incident. His mom had been pretty much glued to his side, which was…nice. Cam wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe more of the generic sentiment she’d expressed in the cards she’d sent him. Maybe more of the “tough love” she had dished out before he’d joined the army.
Instead he had…his mom. From the moment he’d picked up her bag and shown her to her room, she’d stuck to him. Monopolized him even.
“This place reminds me of that series of books I used to read to you,” she’d said as they sat down to lunch with Jay and Elise. “Do you remember? Mystery Inn?”
“Yes!” He hadn’t until that very moment, but once she’d said it, it had all come back. “The inn where every guest came with some kind of mystery!” He laughed from pure delight, and when was the last time that had happened—without Jane being involved anyway?
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