Page 95 of Trust Me Always

“Right? Can’t wait for Cameron to see.”

Chase is dressed as Maverick fromTop Gun, the aviators adamn good look on him, and he’s got the perfect hair for it. He raises a brow at my comment, and I shrug.

“Inside joke.”

“Oh, you’ve got those now, huh?” His green eyes are teasing as he meets mine over the rim of his cup.

I flip him off, bending slightly to look in the kitchen when it gets a little louder, and spot the source of the commotion. Alister has made his way down, grinning and dapping people up—full acceptance in the house for what might be the first time. Someone hands him a beer, another stops him for a shot, and I can’t help but watch.

“What’s he supposed to be, Hugh Hefner?” Chase wonders.

My eyes fall to the velvety robe he’s got on, and I throw my head back and laugh.

Oh, Cammie Girl. Fucking hilarious.At least I know they won’t match. Ain’t no way is she showing up with bunny ears on.

“Let me guess.” Chase studies me. “Another inside joke?”

“You heard from the girls yet?” I ignore his question, looking around to avoid his grin.

“Nah, I talked to Mason though, and he said he’s walking them over, but they had to wait for his parents to get back with food first. Guess they didn’t feel like eating at the game.”

I nod, settling into one of the chairs.

I’m on my second beer when Mason walks out and everyone around laughs.

He grins good-naturedly, sticking his hand out and shooting silly string all over with a laugh.

“Fucking Spidey!”

He gives a full spin, wearing a tight-as-shit onesie.

“Holy shit, bro, you actually wore it!”

“Dude, Deaton picked it out. What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”

I chuckle. Poor guy’s got no chance when it comes to that little man. “Hope you’re wearing a cup, my boy, or else everyonehere is gonna know what you’re packing in there. What’s your woman gonna say about that?”

He frowns. “Don’t remind me about people seeing too much,” he mumbles. “Just…wait for it.”

Before I can question him, whistles and catcalls sound, and he huffs, but there’s a small smile on his lips.

Then the girls are sauntering through the door—first Payton, then Paige, and lastly mine.

I mean Cameron.

My brows jump, my jaw might drop, and what is this fire in my stomach?

Chase glares, suddenly really thirsty as he gulps down his drink, and I can’t even stalk forward like I planned, give her a little show of my own.

No, my eyes have locked on to the perfect pigtails Cameron’s sporting. They’re pinned up high, one solid, smooth curl spun in each, thin baby blue ribbons tied in bows holding them in place.

Her outfit is best described as shrink-wrap, a tiny strip of the same shade of blue bound around her chest. It’s only high enough to cover the swell of her breast, no longer than where the edge of a swimsuit would reach at the bottom, pressed tight against her ribs. Her toned stomach is glimmering, her sun-kissed skin having been rubbed in some sort of sparkly shit, the little flecks blinding as she moves and the fire bounces off her.

Her belly ring is a little ghost dangling, the tip of it teasing along her bottoms—and what the actual fuck, man?

I glare at her lower half. How is she even walking in that?

At first, I think she got the parts mixed up and the thin little strip covering her is meant to be the top…but the top is even smaller.

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