Page 50 of Dirty Little Mistake

"Thank you." Her voice was a low whisper.

"I know I fucked up, Cam, but I'm here for you. Always." Her lips lifted in a soft smile. "Can you stand up so I can take off your shorts?" She shrugged. "Okay. I'm going to pull you up, and I want you to hold on to me. I'll get your shorts off and help you into the shower." Her shower was a luxurious oasis—a massive walk-in enclosure with glass walls, polished chrome fixtures, and a built-in marble seat. Which was perfect for this situation.

She nodded, and I pulled her up, helping her steady herself before quickly removing her shorts and panties. Pressing my lips into a tight line, I looked everywhere but at her. I lifted, wrapping my arms around her, and pulled her naked body firmly against me as she stepped out of her shorts.

I stepped toward the shower, but her feet stumbled.

Fuck.

I refrained from groaning as I gripped Cam's ass and hiked her up, wrapping her legs around my waist and bolting for theshower. Setting her on the seat, I flipped on the water, stepping back abruptly, and turned away as a familiar warmth spread through my lower body.

Focus, I commanded myself, clenching my fists at my sides.

"I'm out here if you need me," I said, like she couldn't see me through the glass shower wall.

Reaching back, I peeled my soaking wet shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor before kneeling to remove my vomit-covered boots and then slipping out of my pants and boxer briefs.

Reaching into the closet, I grabbed a white fluffy towel and wrapped it around my waist.

Once I got her in bed, I would throw my clothes in the washing machine so I would have clean clothes to wear when she threw me out in the morning.

As I turned back to Cam, the air between us thickened. Her eyes, usually sharp and alert, were hazy and unfocused. But beneath the glassy glaze of intoxication, I could see something else fiery—a primal cocktail of need and desire that made my breath catch in my throat and my heart race. Her gaze roamed over me, leaving a trail of heat in its path.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was moving toward her like she was using some type of force to suck me in, but I stopped myself. If I let this go any further, she wouldn't just hate me in the morning. She'd hate herself.

So, instead, I turned away and grabbed another towel out of the cabinet.

Flipping off the water, I handed her a towel, and once she wrapped it around herself, I quickly helped her out and to the bed.

Cam crawled into bed, her movements slow and uncoordinated. The mattress dipped under her weight as she settled, her damp hair leaving dark splotches on the pillow. Ireached for the covers, the cool cotton pinched between my fingers as I pulled them up. "Go to sleep. I'll be downstairs if you need me." I twisted to leave.

"Trystan," she called out, and I stopped turning back to her. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Smiling softly, I nodded. Cam had no idea what I'd do for her. "Good night, Cam."

"Wait," she said. "Would you stay here with me tonight? I don't want to be alone."

That was her weakness. She'd been alone so often as a child that she hated it now. "Yeah." After everything that had happened, there was nothing I wanted more than to crawl into bed with her and hold her heated skin against mine. To feel she was alive.

My gaze drifted downward, acutely aware that I was naked. The white towel hung low on my hips, and water droplets still clung to my chest and arms, catching the dim light and making my skin gleam. "But I don't have any clothes on."

"We've slept together naked before," she reminded me as if I could have forgotten.

"Not with you angry and drunk."

"Please," she whispered. "Please just stay with me."

Her soft plea tugged at my heart. "Okay." I nodded. "Let me shower off, and then I will lay with you." But I really hoped she'd be asleep by the time I got out because I knew how hard it would be to sleep next to her and not have her.

Chapter 25

Camryn

My eyes eased open, then immediately squeezed shut against the assault of morning light. Each pulse of my headache brought with it a fresh memory from last night. The bedsheets beside me were still warm, carrying his scent. My hand drifted across the rumpled fabric, dreading what I'd find.

Empty space.

I shot upright, instantly regretting the sudden movement as my head spun. The room tilted and settled, revealing what I already knew: Trystan was gone. My stomach twisted with a nauseating mix of relief and disappointment. Maybe this was better. Cleaner. So why did my chest feel like it was caving in?

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