“Who would have thought it?” he murmured, tracing the line of her nose, her lips with his eyes. “The Lachlan McDermott, head over heels in love?”
Cameron’s eyelids stretched, her forehead creasing a little as she shifted slightly on the bed. “Hmmm?”
Lachlan chuckled. “Nothing,” he said, voice low. “Go back to sleep.”
She made another noise, a humming, hitching sound that may or may not have been an “okay” and then she was still again.
He watched her, enjoying every silent, calm moment, and when his own eyelids grew heavy, he didn’t fight them. After all, sleeping beside Cameron was the only place he wanted to sleep. And when he woke, she would be there, and he would be hard, and they would begin to explore their bodies, their pleasure, their passion, all over again.
The perfect day. Waiting for them both.
The distant ringing of a phone woke him. He opened his eyes and squinted at the light pouring through the far window.
God, how long had he dozed off?
Casting Cameron a quick look and finding her still asleep, now curled on her side with her legs entangled with his, he moved, careful not to wake her.
There were other ways to wake her than by bumping her with his arm as he checked his watch. Much more pleasurable ways. And he was indeed, as he’d predicted, hard. Very hard. Hard enough his balls ached and throbbed with demanding want.
1:37 p.m.
Lachlan raised his eyebrows. Five hours? They’d been asleep for five hours? When was the last time he’d slept for five hours in his own bed, let alone in someone else’s? Hell, when was the last time he’d slept for five hours, period?
Ignoring his ringing cell, he returned his attention to the sleeping woman beside him. There wasn’t a hope in hell he was getting out of her bed to talk to someone when the only person he wanted to talk to was asleep beside him. Whoever it was could just bugger off. Three rings later his phone fell silent, and Lachlan smiled, glad it hadn’t woken Cameron.
Gently, so as not to disturb her, he placed his palm on the subtle curve of her hip. Her skin was warm and velvet soft and his cock, so damn hard it ached, twitched. Damn, this was the way to wake every day. In bed with the woman he loved, already on fire with his desire for her, not alone and already thinking of work. He liked it. A lot. It was, for want of a better word, addictive.
Who would have thought it, ‘eh?
A smile pulled at his lips and he slid his hand over Cameron’s ribcage, her arm and down to her breast. Her nipple puckered under his palm, a soft moan sounding in her throat. He watched her sleeping face, loving the way she responded to him even in repose. Oh yeah, this was definitely addictive. And wonderful. And glorious. And perfect. And…and…right.
There’s that word again, Lachlan. Right.
His smile grew wider, just as his cock grew harder. It was right. All right. All the way it was meant to be. After years of being a pretentious, narrow-minded wanker, he finally realized what life was truly about—being with the one person who made his soul sing. Not someone who looked good on his arm at black-tie dinners. Not someone who would vacuously nod at everything he said while uttering cooing sounds of adoration. Not someone who viewed him as a leg up the social-status ladder. Being with them, loving them and being loved in return.
Being loved in return? Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit?
He chuckled softly. Maybe, but he could live with that. Because he didn’t doubt at all Cameron felt something far more than just lust for him. Her eyes had told him every time she’d grinned at him on the soccer field last night, every time she’d looked at him since opening the door to him this morning. Her eyes told him just as clearly as her body did. And, like everything else in this brave new world he’d found himself in from the moment they’d faced off over a parking space, that too was right.
Still watching her face, he smoothed his hand back down her arm to her wrist and gently curled his fingers around it. Another soft moan sounded low in her throat and she moved slightly on the bed, enough for Lachlan to gently press her onto her back.
Christ, she was gorgeous. And he wanted her. So damn much.
Keeping his movements slow, he slid one leg over hers and inched closer to her sleeping form. The warmth of her body caressed his and his blood thrummed through his veins, making his cock spasm. Its length nudged her thigh and another soft sound vibrated in her throat, accompanied by a slow, deep intake of breath.
Lachlan swallowed, the thought of waking her with raw pleasure making his head spin. With infinite care, he moved her arm and placed it on the bed. Pressing her wrist to the mattress beside her head, he lowered his mouth to her breast, taking her taut nipple with his lips and suckling gently.
Cameron moaned again, louder this time, her thighs parting beneath the weight of his leg.
He shifted, holding her wrist to the mattress as he slid his body atop hers. His cock throbbed, its head stroking at the satiny folds of her pussy. Parting them.
Lachlan’s breath caught in his throat, every nerve-ending in his body, every fibre of his existence charged with pure, elemental need. The need to pleasure his woman.
He closed the fingers of his other hand around her wrist, drew it up the bed until both framed her head and, his gaze focused on her sleeping face, rolled his hips forward.
And Cameron’s eyes snapped open, glazed with terror unlike any Lachlan had seen.
“Get off me!” she cried, bucking beneath him. Her legs lashed out, her hands balled into fists. Her face distorted into a petrified grimace. “Get off me! Get off me!”
Cold confusion slammed into Lachlan. He reeled backward, Cameron’s heels striking his chest, his arm as he stumbled off the bed. “Cameron? What’s—”
She scrambled upright on her bed, snatching at the closet pillow and hugging it to her body, her wide-eyed stare locked on his face. “Don’t. Don’t touch me…” Terror pulled at her features, cold and absolute.
He stared at her, his heart slamming in his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t—”
She shook her head, pushing herself farther away from him as he took a step back toward the bed, her eyes glazed. She hugged the pillow tighter to her belly, breath wild and shallow. “Oh God, I’m sorry.” She scrunched up her face, shutting her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. I can’t…I can’t…”
Lachlan’s gut clenched and he shook his head, unable to fathom what was going on. “Cameron, what’s going on? Tell me what’s—”
She pressed her face into the shield of her pillow, and he couldn’t miss the violent trembles claiming her body. “I can’t…” She shook her head again, her voice muffled. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Please go. I need…I need to be alone. Please.”
Lachlan drew in a sharp breath, his blood roaring in his ears. God, what had happened to her to make her so scared? Was he responsible for this? “Babe, please? Tell me what’s going on. Let me help—”
She lifted her face from the pillow and Lachlan’s stomach sank at the abject fear in her eyes. “Go. Now.”
He shook his head. “I can’t leave you like this. I won’t.” He took another step closer to the bed, needing to hold her. To understand what was going on. To calm her and take away her terror.
“Don’t.” She shook her head, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “I just want to be alone. Please go. I need to be…”
The sentence faded away, and before she pressed her face into the pillow again, Lachlan saw a tear slip down her cheek. “Cameron?”
Silence stretched between them, thick and crushing. Lachlan finally let out a ragged breath, his heart an aching sledgehammer in his chest. He did not want to leave her. He’d rather have his teeth pulled out one by one than walk away from her now, but he loved her. And loving her meant he had to respect her wishes. The old Lachlan McDermott, the one he’d been before laughing with her on the soccer field, maybe even before that, would have stayed. Would have demanded she tell him. But that Lachlan, the one
used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, no longer existed.
He studied the side of her face barely visible behind the midnight-black strands of her hair and the snowy-white bulk of the pillow. “I don’t know what’s going on, Cameron. I wish I did. I wish you’d tell me, but I can see you won’t. Not now.”
When she didn’t lift her head, he let out another sigh. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say next. Every fibre in his body screamed at him not to say it. But he had to. For Cameron, and for himself.
“I’m going.” His chest constricted at the words. “But before I do, I need you to know this. I love you. I know it’s stupid after just one night, just one morning, but I’ve fallen in love with you and I will fix whatever is scaring you. If you let me, I will make everything better, I promise. With my heart, I swear this to you.”
She didn’t answer. Nor raise her face from the pillow. If his words had affected her, he didn’t know.
Walking from her home was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he did it. Because he loved her. But by the time he dressed and made it to his car, something else filled him with cold fear. The possibility someone somewhere had done something unspeakable to Cameron at some stage in her life. And if he thought leaving her in such a distraught state was hard, knowing that was harder.
Chapter Nine
Cameron didn’t lift her head from her pillow until she heard her front door close and her front gate locking system buzz, letting her know it had been activated. Letting her know Lachlan was gone and she was alone.
She stared at her bedroom’s far wall, watching the afternoon light dance over its surface without really seeing it. All she could see was her ex-bodyguard straddling her, his eyes feverish with depraved lust, his teeth bared as he panted in her face. Except it wasn’t Andre. It was Lachlan. Lachlan, the man she was in love with, the man she’d cast aside all fears and hesitation for. All fears but this one, it seemed.
A single tear sliced down her cheek, hot and damning, and she closed her eyes again. The image of Lachlan pinning her to the bed vanished in the blackness, but not the sound of Andre’s grunting pants as she fought against him. Nor the feel of Andre’s vile erection grinding to her belly.
Nor the smell of Lachlan on her flesh, a scent now fucked up by the horrific memory of her ex-bodyguard’s attack.
God help her, she truly was broken. After all these years convincing herself she was strong again, all these years of telling herself she was recovered, of rebuilding old cars in the most obscure metaphor for her shattered soul, the first moment she wakes to find someone in her bed with her and she’s back there to that horrific moment. Screaming. Terrified. Rational thought was destroyed by a nightmare she could never escape.
“Just as broken as I was before,” she muttered, the hot path of another tear on her cheek a fitting emphasis. “First I freak out over a guy at a party groping me, and then again when Lachlan…”
I will fix it. Lachlan’s proclamation whispered through her mind, his voice beseeching her to trust him. I will make everything better.
I love you.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
Cameron’s belly clenched. Her throat squeezed tight. How was it possible to be so tormented to hear something so wonderful?
He loved her. The man she was well and truly head over heels for was in love with her and she’d cowered away from him and begged him to leave. Pleaded with him to go away when all she wanted to do was curl up in his arms and let him hold her forever.
But she couldn’t. Not when the very first time she woke to find him in her bed she was propelled back to the night Andre tried to rape her.
She couldn’t be with anyone. Not when she was this messed up.
Unbidden, the memory of Andre lashed at her again. He’d always been an odd one, rarely smiling, exerting a little too much aggressive force to keep people away from her when she was out in public, watching her every move when she was on a shoot. Her parents had thought they were doing the right thing employing him. It was a small comfort to Cameron that they both died in a car accident before Andre’s attack. The guilt of placing her in his care would have undone them.
“Broken,” she whispered again, bitter hate and self-contempt churning in her stomach.
She pulled in a slow breath, a choked cry bursting from her as Lachlan’s distinctive scent flowed through her nose, down into her being.
For a surreal moment, she heard his laughter, the carefree relaxed laughter from the soccer field, and her heart constricted, the torment too much. He’d called her a fantasy more than once during the night. His fantasy. She’d never told him he was hers and now it was too late. Now she’d cowered from the possibility she’d longed for because of the reality of her life. Which, when it came down to it, was really pathetic.
Perhaps if she told him about Andre? Told him everything about it?
She shook her head. No. She couldn’t. Because when all was said and done, what had just happened, how she’d reacted to Lachlan being in her bed, being on her when she hadn’t expected it, was the only proof needed to know she was incapable of a life with him. With anyone. A solitary life was the safest. At least then, she’d never—
Her security system activated, the high-pitched chirping telling Cameron someone had jumped her fence.
Her stomach dropped. Her blood ran cold.
Scrambling off her bed, she ran to the alarm’s main control deck and hit the button that turned on all the CCTV screens.
She stared at the small row of screens, searching for the intruder who’d triggered the motion sensor.
There. In the bushes on the east side of her house. Crouched under a large weeping willow, a camera gripped in one hand.
Cameron’s mouth went dry. She knew who it was.
Holston.
Damn it, the paparazzo had found her.
I can’t take this. Not now.
Turning from the sight of Holston scurrying through her garden, Cameron retrieved her phone where Lachlan had deposited it last night and slid her thumb across its small screen. She dialed 000, requesting the police when the emergency-services call attendant answered. “Hello, this is Cameron Winters,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “Please tell Officer Daniel Cashion of Inner City Sydney Command there’s an intruder trying to break into my house.”
She disconnected before the questions could begin. Officer Cashion was the police officer who’d answered her emergency call after Andre’s failed assault, the only person who truly knew why Cameron had such state-of-the-art security. Even if he couldn’t get to her, Officer Cashion would make sure another officer did ASAP.
Walking back to her bedroom, she dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and boots, refusing to let her mind linger on the reason she was naked—Lachlan, Lachlan making love to you, Lachlan loving you, Lachlan—and strode back into the living room, past the semi-rebuilt Triumph, to the front door. Five minutes later, unable to cope with feeling trapped in her home, she climbed into her beloved Mini, activated the automatic roller door of her garage and reversed out. If Holston was in her driveway, well, he’d better be able to jump out of the way fast.
He wasn’t, but as she pulled onto the street, pausing long enough to close her garage door with a press of a button on her dash, she saw him run at her car, camera raised.
And then she planted her foot to the accelerator, leaving him behind. Heading away from her home, her sanctuary. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to go. She had to get away from it all. From the life she’d thought she’d escaped, from the life she’d been living. From everything that made her think of Kole, of Cam.
From the memory of Andre’s attack.
From the memory of Lachlan’s love.
Before she did something stupid. Like chase after Lachlan and beg him to hold her forever.
She paid little attention to where she was going. She stopped when required, sped up and slowed down when the flow of traffic dictated, but apart from that
, she was on autopilot.
Controlling her car with detached indifference, she turned random corners without consideration of direction or destination. She had no destination. Just…away.
For good? Are you really going to turn your back on the best thing that ever happened to you?
Cameron swallowed, the cliché making her chest ache. Her knuckles grew white as she gripped the steering wheel. Her heart fought to turn her around, to make her drive to Lachlan’s home and tell him she was sorry, to tell him everything. But her mind told her it was pointless. If she woke petrified with Lachlan once, she would do so again. And maybe again. And again. How long could a man put up with that until it was too much?
It wasn’t fair. To either of them.
So why does this solution feel so wrong?
Her phone burst into life on the passenger seat beside her, George Michael’s insistence she was too funky for him saving her from an answer.
She shot the screen a quick look, biting back a curse as she read the word Blocked.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Lachlan.
And you wanted it to be Lachlan, didn’t you?
“Yeah yeah!” George Michael sang from her phone.
Snatching up the annoying communication device, she tossed it onto the back seat. She wasn’t going to answer it. She wasn’t going to answer it and she didn’t want to know who was calling her if it rang again.
Childish. You’re being childish. A childish coward. You know that, right?
Gritting her teeth, she turned on the Mini’s CD player, put her brain in neutral and drove, just drove, the wild beat of AC/DC’s greatest hits a deafening soundtrack that drowned out all other thoughts. Like what she was going to do about Lachlan. Like where she was driving to.
Ten ear-shattering tracks later, she drew to a halt and studied the view beyond her windscreen. She killed the ignition and the music, plunging her car into silence as she stared at where her subconscious had brought her.
“Well,” she murmured, her heart thumping fast in her throat. “How ’bout that?”
Twister: Party Games, Book 3 Page 12
