Page 56 of Trust Me Always

“’Cause I’m Brady Lancaster, Cammie Baby,” I tease, and when she only lifts a brow, a laugh leaves me. “The owner has season tickets to our games. He saw me here and asked for an autograph for his kid.”

She shakes her head with a grin. “Of course he did.”

“Brady, come back!”

“Yeah, Brady, help me with the hood?”

“Wait, I asked for his help first!”

When we both glance that way, Yellow Top asks, “You’ll lift me on your shoulders, right? I have really flexible legs.”

Cameron coughs to hide a laugh and I look back at her with pleading, puppy-dog eyes.

She stares a moment, trying to figure her plan out, and I wait, praying it’s a good one.

I take her hand and tug her in closer. “So what’s the move, fake girlfriend?”

Cameron winks, then steps back, tearing her shirt over her head, revealing a skintight, light pink sports bra with a little zipper in the middle that’s halfway down, and teeny tiny…

Hold up.

“Yo.” I crowd her, take her shirt, and wrap it around her back, hiding her booty from view. “Are those underwear?!”

“No,” she chuckles, gently shoving at my chest.

But my feet are planted firmly, and I don’t budge, cocking my head and stretching my neck to get a better look. “You sure?” I stare at the spot they stretch around her toned thighs, literallyrightat the edge of her booty.

And girl’s got a booty. Ever since she and Ari did that Booty Bootcamp thing, whatever the fuck that is, it’s been poppin’. She’s most definitely kept up the routine. It’s high and round, and I’ve got the sudden urge to give it a little tap. Maybe a squeeze or two, you know, just to see how soft it is.

I glare harder at the offending underwear. “Pretty sure when your leg stretches to take a step, them things are gonna slide up and out will plop a cheek.”

Her laugh is loud, and she gives me a saucy grin.

My brow raises and she pushes up on her toes, tongue flicking across my lips, and there’s a little twitch in my toes.

A frown threatens to form, but then a shadow falls over us, and we both look left.

The girl flicks her eyes at Cameron, then turns them back to me, batting her long lashes. “Come on, number ninety-eight,” the brunette singsongs. “We need our big, strong mountain man’s help.”

Cameron’s hands, still on my chest from attempting to push me back, span out, and she runs them slowly and steadily down my abs, making my muscles twitch at the feeling. She looks to me, but her words are for the interrupter. “He’s notyouranything.” She holds my gaze steady. “He’s mine.”

My feet shuffle closer on their own, but she’s already pulling back, smiling wide at the sorority girl.

I think Cameron’s going to say something, maybe introduce herself, but she doesn’t. She simply walks past, tugging her hair from the messy bun it was clipped up in.

I watch as it falls in long, tousled waves, the tips nearly touching the swell of her perfect, peachy ass, and I’ve got the sudden urge to tug on it.

To wrap it around my fist and pull just enough to?—

My muscles lock, my frown instant.

No.

No, no.

I don’t want to do that to Cammie Girl.

I don’t.

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