Page 24 of Best Laid Plans
He scratched at his stubble and took a deep breath as he opened the door. The apartment was quiet. The light in Elle’s bedroom was on, but the door was closed. There was a part of him that wanted to knock, but the part of him that had some semblance of control slapped it into submission.
Tomorrow, he’d talk to her. Apologize for his part in what had happened between them. Hopefully, they could go back to their delicate dance of antagonizing each other and then retreating to their respective sides of the apartment.
As his head hit the pillow, he wondered, though, the next time they circled back around to one another, whether he’d be able to stop himself.
Cam was a heavy sleeper. He could drift off anytime, anywhere, if he closed his eyes for more than a minute. It was a gift, really.
Only tonight, he was suffering, unable to shake a feeling he couldn’t escape. He’d caught a few hours, but had unexpectedlywoken up well after midnight, when the world outside was quiet.
His cock ached with how hard he was. He couldn’t escape Elle Pierce in real life, and his dreams seemed to have the same idea. He was surprised he hadn’t woken up covered in come. He’d been dreaming about Elle, bent over the prep table, her legs spread wide, wetness dripping down her thighs.
He’d woken up just as he’d entered her, and it was like he could still feel her walls around him, guiding him in deeper. His hand found its way under his boxer briefs, and he started to rub his fingers against his already swollen tip.
“Fuck,” he breathed out quietly, shooting a glance at the door as he wrapped his whole hand around his shaft.
Once, before he’d fallen asleep, he’d heard Elle’s door and then the bathroom door open, but it had been quiet since then. She’d probably snuck out as soon as he was back home, ensuring their paths wouldn’t cross.
Maybe he could fight her, but he couldn’t fight the idea of her. He didn’t have that kind of power. Not when she was assaulting his dreams. It all felt out of his control when he started stroking up and down his shaft, his balls already tight and ready to explode.
He stretched out his long legs and put one of his arms behind his head, trying to draw this one time only moment of pleasure out. It wasn’t long before she was in his mind’s eye again, the dream and what had happened earlier today blurring together. He thought about Elle’s thighs, how they’d been shaking from her need as she’d held herself up. He’d felt them when he was running his hands along her shorts, her skin on fire under the pads of his fingers. He’d been inches away. Inches from her pussy and how wet he’d known it was with the sounds she’d been making and the way she’d kept pressing her ass into his cock, like she couldn’t get enough.
She’d wanted it just as badly. He stroked harder with thatthought, working to let the guilt go. This would help him keep his hands to himself, in every sense of the word, and Elle would be none the wiser.
She would never need to know that as he grew impossibly harder, his hand picking up momentum as he found a rhythm, he started to think about her on her knees. Thinking about those perfectly plump lips wrapped around his cock, the tongue she loved to berate him with licking his tip before she started to suck him off.
It happened when he thought about ensnaring his hands in her dark hair and guiding her mouth to take him deeper, the idea driving him over the edge. He gritted his teeth to stay quiet, coming hard with a shudder that wracked his body. His muscles clenched, and he kept working his cock, pulling every last drop out like it would also remove the traces of Elle that seemed to have shattered through his body and taken root in every molecule and nerve ending.
He reached for the water bottle he kept next to the bed, only to push it off the end table. It skittered somewhere in the darkness, empty anyway from the sound it made.
He blinked, accepting defeat. It was just going to be one of those days, and he was only two hours into it. He cleaned himself off and threw the towel in a clothes basket, hoping he’d gotten her out of his system. Or at least, that he’d purged himself of doing anything stupid for at least another day. And that wasn’t nothing.
He stood up, slowly, the air conditioning that Elle insisted on keeping on high pimpling his skin. There was no reason to throw on a shirt or pants, considering he’d be in the kitchen just long enough to grab a bottle of water. Water that he’d bought a case of three days ago, though bottles had conspicuously been going missing.
He wondered if she was sulking, smiling reflexively at the thought. It was easy to picture her in the guest room, a blanketwrapped around her like he knew she liked to do. A cute little pout on those lips that could bring him to his knees if she was on hers first. She already had, even if it had only been in his imagination.
The reality was that she’d probably be pissed at him when really, he should get a fucking medal for his efforts.
With long strides, he was at the kitchen in a few seconds, and he took a gulp of air in anticipation of a cold bottle of water. But when he opened the door, the fridge was empty. Sure, some of Wyatt’s eggs were there, but the multiple bottles of water that he’d seen earlier this morning were gone.
“Looking for something?” a throaty voice said from behind him.
God, he’d been so out of it post-orgasm that his dehydration had made him single-minded to a fault. Because if he’d been more aware, he’d have noticed the thighs that he’d been fantasizing about moments ago, only feet away from him.
Elle was seated on the island, her legs dangling over the edge. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she looked like she’d just woken up. And she was wearing his fucking shirt again.
He really couldn’t catch a break.
“Did you take the last water?” he asked hoarsely, ignoring the twitch in his cock at the sight of her.
Elle looked him up and down, and he wondered if she could read his mind. Could know that he’d just been fantasizing about fucking her, which was the reason for his impromptu kitchen trip at two a.m.
“Does it look like I took the last water?” she asked, draining most of the bottle in a single gulp. “You really shouldn’t drink disposable bottles. Bad for the environment.”
He eyed the bottle that she continued to toy with, the same way she was toying with him. “Does that not apply to you?”
“Sometimes a girl just needs some of the good stuff.” Sheheld eye contact with Cam for a long beat before looking at the label. “From the glaciers. Couldn’t pass that up.”
He leaned on the structural beam at the end of the island, crossing his arms across his chest. “Is there something you want to say to me?” They’d get this out in the open, and then they could move past it.
