Page 76 of Full Tilt
Cosmo lets out an offended gasp so sharp I instinctively check the phone’s volume. “Excuseme? Are you sayingmy matchmaking had nothing to do with this? Nothing? I feel betrayed, Brent. I gifted you a destiny, and you just… sidestepped it?”
“I didn’t sidestep it,” I say, trying not to laugh. “You just came in halfway through.”
“You’re telling me,” he huffs, “that you, on your own, bagged Camden Crawford without my expert meddling? I call blasphemy.”
Cam snorts under his breath. I glare at the ceiling.
“And just so we’re clear,” Cosmo continues, “I still get to be best man. Dibs. You heard it. It’s binding.”
“We’re not getting married.”
“Not with that attitude,” he says primly. Then in the background, there’s a muffled voice. “Ugh. Gotta go, my group just got called. We’re doing goat yoga.”
“Of course you are.”
“Say hi to Camden for me! Don’t let him ghost you or get emotional constipation. And tell him I want photos.”
The line goes dead before I can respond. I lower the phone slowly.
Cam raises an eyebrow. “Goat yoga?”
I nod. “It’s best if you don’t ask.”
He chuckles softly, shaking his head again. “Your family’s terrifying.”
“Terrifyingly lovable,” I correct, already regretting everything that just happened. And still kind of smiling anyway.
He leans in and kisses me. It’s short and sweet, but still enough to get my dick interested. Before I can cling on to him and reposition myself on his thighs, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve got an early start.”
I bob my head, already knowing that over the next couple of days, he needs to be rested and focused for his next game. “No worries.” I peck his lips and lift my ass off the couch. His handon my thigh stops me. “Okay?” I tilt my head and roam my gaze over his face.
A tentative, almost hesitant smile tilts his lips. “You don’t have to go.”
My heart flips over a little. It’s not like I haven’t stayed over before, but him needing an early night and plenty of sleep means he wants me here for me, not just for company, right?
I nod, the corner of my mouth tugging up. “Then I’ll stay.”
The smile he gives in return isn’t flashy or wide—it’s small, quiet, honest. One of my favourites.
He squeezes my thigh before rising and stretching with a grunt, his T-shirt lifting just enough to tease a slice of skin at his waist. “You coming?”
I stand, following him down the hallway, flicking off the lights behind us. By the time I reach the bedroom, he’s already toeing off his joggers and tossing his shirt in the general direction of the hamper. The lamps are on, casting a soft golden hue over everything, and he moves like someone who’s bone-deep tired.
“Want anything before bed?” I ask, pausing near the en suite. “Tea? Neck rub? Interpretive dance?”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “No dance. But I wouldn’t say no to the neck rub.”
“Filed away for future use,” I promise.
We brush our teeth together, bumping elbows over the sink like we’ve done it a hundred times before, and somehow that domesticity just about kills me. I’m half convinced I’ll combust if he reaches for me now—but he doesn’t. He finishes up, gives me a lazy smile in the mirror, then heads back to the bed.
I flick off the bathroom light and join him. The mattress dips under my weight as I slide in behind him, and he’s already pulling the duvet up when I do something that makes both of us still. I snuggle in. Not kind of. Not subtly. Like, full-on spooning.
Cam stiffens for a moment like I’ve short-circuited him, then huffs out an incredulous breath. “You’re the little one.”
“I’m the limpet now,” I mutter, already arranging myself around the solid curve of his back. “Ssh. Accept it.”
He laughs again, breathier this time, but doesn’t push me away, doesn’t make a joke. He just… settles. I loop my arm around his middle and nudge my nose against the back of his neck, the neck rub he wanted forgotten. His hair smells like that cedar shampoo I swiped last week and never gave back. He sighs into the pillow—deep and slow—and it tugs at something behind my ribs.
