Page 146 of Trust Me Always

He sits down on the foot of the bed as I crawl in it, burying myself in the blankets and claiming the left side.

The distinct sound of his briefs coming down fills the room, and I wait, wondering if maybe he’ll forgo a new pair, but his dresser opens and closes a moment later.

Man, there was something seriously addicting about the way he came undone to nothing more than some heavy grinding. I mean, I know how to use my hips, but this is Brady.

I give myself a mental pat on the back.

He climbs in beside me, and my pulse pounds wildly, waiting to see what his next move will be.

Will he stay on his side? Put a pillow between us?

My fears are gone when he slides all the way over until my back is flush with his front.

His arm settles over me on top of the blanket, lying against the curve of my leg. “Night, baby.”

Baby.

NotCammie Babyorbaby girl.

NoHellcatorCammie Girl.

Just…baby.

Something inside me melts a little, and I smile against my pillow.

“Night, Big Guy.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Brady

Last night wasthe worst way to end a night.

Not because of what happened but because of the plans I made for this morning. I had to keep giving my dick a stern talking to. On the football field with a guy I only just met wasnotthe time to get a hard-on, but all I could think about was the way she felt.

The sounds she made.

Her ass cheeks and the way they promised to swallow my cock between them, those pretty, perfect nipples when she tossed my shirt over her head. At first, I almost pouted—I’ve become a bit obsessed with seeing her in my clothes to the point where I’m tempted to fill her dorm closet with more when we get back. But then.

She smirked down at me from the spot that is now officially hers—my lap—and turned into a little devil. God, the way I want to learn every part of her. She’s fucking exquisite when she comes. I can’t even imagine what she’d look like if it were my cock she creamed all over.

I hated leaving her in the bed this morning. I can’t fucking wait to look her in the eye, knowing exactly what I’ll be thinking the moment are gazes meet.

What would she do if I bent down and kissed her for my mom and dad to see? A silent claim is what I want to make. Like a kid on show-and-tell day, I want to brag and be likelook at what I got, a one-of-a-kind woman to call my own.

I need to talk to her, tell her where my head is at. It’s the right thing to do.

I need to know where the pretending begins and ends before she becomes even more than my first and last thought each day. Because she is.

I don’t know when it happened, but it did. In fact, it might have always been there, far back in my mind, waiting for the time to come forward.

Cameron’s the snow and I’m the sleigh—I only make sense with her.

I’m the leather, and she’s the lace; we fit to form the perfect union.

I’m going to talk to her and tell her I love her.

Alister’swords hit me cold in the chest, and my hand freezes on the door handle to my childhood home.

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