Page 50 of Curious
Cam feels like the kind of person who could do that. He’s a protector, and he’s someone who wants to be loved. I can tell that.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“Why?”
“While we didn’t do a honeymoon, because it’s not like that with us, this still feels like a honeymoon period. He’s just too wonderful. I’m waiting for something to go wrong.”
He huffs. “Why do we always do that? I did that when I was worried things wouldn’t work out with Danny. I kept waiting for things to go bad. Just once, I want us to be looking for things to be amazing. For it all to work out in our best interest. For it to just get better and better and better. I know it’s natural to want to protect yourself from getting hurt—but good things do happen, and you can’t protect yourself so much that you cut yourself off from that possibility.”
I smile at him. “You’re right. Maybe I can withhold judgment. I want to stop reliving my old patterns.”
“Old patterns die hard. I know how it is.”
I give him a hug. Alden is one of the sweetest guys I know. He’s no longer the virgin boy I met, but he’s kept his sweetness with his makeover.
He’s still himself, only in a nicer package, and it’s terrific to see. It’s also great to see him get his happy ever after. I just wish I could.
Except … Cam and I have a bargain, and I should keep my end of it. My insurance is a stopgap for him, and I said I’d help him find something long-term. So when Demi stops by, I ask her the name of our insurance broker so I can get Cam some quotes.
“I thought you liked our coverage,” she says, tapping on her iPad.
“Yeah, but I want to give a friend some options.”
She agrees and gives me the contact info.
Why do I feel like I’m betraying Cam when I’m doing exactly what we agreed I’d do?
* * *
That evening, I putter around the kitchen, pulling out plates and setting the table. Cam throws together a casserole, then excuses himself to go take a shower before we eat. Because he works outdoors, he’ll often take a shower when he gets home, not first thing in the morning like I do.
Ugh. When the two of us are together—even though his house is still a work in progress—it feels so domestic and wonderful. I’ve always wanted the easy camaraderie with a partner where we make a house a home.
Which is not what I had with my mom growing up. Oh, sure, she was around, but dinners were huffy affairs. She’d ask me a few questions about school in a perfunctory manner, but that was it. As for my dad, it’s not like I did more than meet him on a few occasions.
With Cam, though, it feels like he genuinely cares about me. When he cooks, he thinks about my preferences and makes sure to not add too much garlic, because he knows I don’t like it. And when he asks me about my day, he looks me in the eyes and asks follow-up questions, and it feels like he’s really listening to the answers.
In short, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m starting to really care for Cam, and that’s a no-no in my fucked-up life. Our relationship is based on convenience. Underlying that is the unspoken agreement that we shouldn’t do anything to make it more difficult to cut and run when the time comes to divorce.
But I’m going to make the most of being with him while I can. I know it’s a fine line to draw, but if I can have him physically, well, at least I have part of him, at least for now. I can worry about the future when it gets here.
When I hear the shower turn off, I glance at the timer for the casserole and get ideas. I skulk into the bathroom and grin darkly at Camden as he stands on the bath mat, drying himself with a white towel.
“What are you doing?” he asks, a note of amused suspicion in his voice. He wraps the towel around his waist, hiding his assets.
“I dunno,” I say teasingly. I come up behind him and rub my cock against his terry-cloth-clad ass. “I kind of like the view.” Reaching around, I run my hands up his abs, and he bites out a moan. I can see his cock start to thicken under the towel.
I tweak his nipples, tugging on those hot-as-fuck piercings, then go up on my tiptoes to bite at his shoulder. Cam shudders and tilts his head back. “Shelby,” he groans. “You always make me so hard.”
“That’s the idea.” I push at his hips until he turns to face me, and then I drop to my knees. “Let me,” I whisper.
“Okay,” he says, running a hand through my hair and letting the towel fall to the floor.
I open my mouth and swallow him down. His cock isn’t fully erect, but it gets that way fast, and I love having it fill in my mouth.
He touches me affectionately and cradles my jaw. I love the contrast between his stiff shaft and the springy area of the head. I love how when I suck on it, I can almost bring him to his knees.
I brace myself against him, holding his thighs, and with a nod, I encourage him to fuck my face. I want to be used. I want him to get off on me.
