Page 55 of Cross Check Daddies
That stops me cold. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“I thought of you every time I said his name,” she says. “Every time someone asked me what Jackson meant to me, and all I could think about was you and how badly I fucked everything up.”
The room goes still.
“And now I’m here,” she continues, wiping her face. “Stuck between you two like some prize.”
“You’re not a trophy,” I say, guilt crawling up my spine.
“Then talk tohim,” she says, voice rising. “Because whatever this is between us? It won’t work unless you two deal with your shit. I don’t want you two to hate each other. I don’t want that. Don’t make me the villain.”
I step forward, softer now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it. I just... this isn’t easy for me.”
“You think it’s easy for me?” she snaps. “I don’tdate. I don’t do feelings. I have casual sex with men I never text twice, because I already had complicated. I was married to complicated. And it cost me more than I can ever explain.”
Her voice breaks again. She wipes her face with both hands. “And now you’re here, screaming at me like I broke you on purpose.”
I breathe out, slow. Then I tug my shirt down and pull my waistband lower, just enough to reveal the ink above my hip. A discreet, slanted B.
She stares. “Is that...?”
“I got it six months after you left. After the first time I saw your name mentioned in some stupid indie dev blog. You were gone, but you weren’t. Not really.”
She reaches out, fingers brushing over the ink, soft and hesitant.
“I never stopped thinking of you either,” I say, my voice barely hanging together. “I loved you. Istilldo.”
She presses her forehead to my chest. I hold her, our breaths jagged, silence thick between us.
This time, she doesn’t pull away.
She pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at me. Her eyes are still wet, but she’s stopped crying. What’s left is something quieter.
“I still like Tanner,” she says, barely louder than the breath between us.
I don’t flinch. I already knew that. I nod once. “I still like you.”
Her mouth parts. There’s a war happening behind her eyes. I don’t ask which part of her is winning. I just lean down and kiss her tenderly. Her lips respond instantly, like the argument doesn’t matter right now.
My hand slides up to the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist tighter, pulling her flush against me. I walk her backward, step by step, until she hits the wall beside the kitchen. Her robe slips open, the edge catching on my forearm as I press against her.
She gasps softly as my lips move to her throat. “Cam?—”
“No talking,” I murmur. “Not yet.”
I drop to my knees before she can say another word.
Her breath stutters as I nudge the robe open wider and lift her leg over my shoulder. I press my mouth to her cunt, tasting her heat, licking deep and slow, then again faster when she cries out and grabs the edge of the counter for balance. She’s wet already. Desperate. Just as fucked up as I am.
I suck her clit, tongue teasing her rhythm, coaxing her toward the edge while she grips my hair like she might come undone from the roots. She’s panting, moaning, whispering my name over and over.
Her thighs start to shake, and I slide two fingers into her, curling until she clamps around me, mouth open in a silent scream. She pulses on my hand, leaking down my wrist, eyes squeezed shut.
I stand before she finishes catching her breath, grab the knot at my sweatpants, and drag them down with a groan.
“Cam,” she says again, uncertain now. Her hand touches my chest.
“I know,” I whisper. “This is fucked up.”
