Page 165 of Trust Me Always

That she’s all I can fucking think about and how I hate that I no longer get to say she’s mine,show she is.

I want to make her mine in every way, but this is fucking monumental for me, and I’m downright terrified.

When I give myself to someone, fully and completely, it has to be endgame, like a franchise player who signs on the dotted line and stays there until his very last play.

I’d be asking a lot of her, expecting even more. There are things I need in my future that I can’tnothave, but I need to fucking have her too.

The music is turned up a little louder, and I glance up just as the others file down into the sand. Noah grabs Ari and starts spinning her around, and Mason follows his lead, both his little man and little mama in his arms.

My eyes lift, finding Cameron watching them all with a small smile, and my gaze narrows at the strain between her brows.

What’s the matter, baby?

Suddenly, my view of her is blocked by a large frame—large but smaller than mine.

I glare as Trey holds a hand out and gives a little bow that has her lips curving.

She puts her hand in his and he tugs her toward the dance floor that doesn’t exist but our friends pretend is there.

Her hand falls on his shoulder, and he gently grips her hip, and no.

Uh-uh. I’m already on my feet, moving across the sand.

Someone claps my back as I walk by, and someone—maybe a few someones—chuckle, but I ignore them all, attention locked in on a certain blond.

I’m about four feet from her when those pretty eyes of hers pop up, colliding with mine. I wait for a gasp, for shock or certainty, but I get none of that.

She simply stares, an almost curious if not impatient expression etched across her perfect face, like she wants to hit fast-forward, but someone else is hogging the remote.

I step up so I’m facing them, and Trey glances over with a grin.

“Hey, man.”

“She’s not available,” I tell him, my eyes moving to hers. She raises a bratty little brow, and I slip into the small space between the two. “You’re just not.”

Her chin rises, going tough, little Cammie on me, but I see the softness she tries to hide. It bleeds from her every pore…but maybe it’s only for me to see.

“Is that right?” she sasses, her voice strong, but there’s a thickness to it that isn’t usually there.

Hope?

“Yeah, baby,” I whisper, everyone else fading into the background as I step up to her, one hand cupping her neck, the other pressing on the small of her back to draw her closer. “That’s right.”

I don’t give her any time to decide, but she doesn’t seem to need any.

We meet halfway, mouths colliding with a desperate need to claim.

It’s not messy or clumsy. We’re in sync, the perfect pairing—the ocean and the sun, me and football.

Me and my girl.

Because that’s what she is.

Mine.

And I want to show her what that means.

Bending, I swoop her up, and she giggles, a sweet fucking sound that goes right to my dick. I carry her into the house and up the stairs, kicking the bedroom door closed and trusting that the others will know not to go into Ari’s room—the one right next door that’s connected by a bathroom.

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