Page 19 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
CHAPTER FIVE
CAMILLE
We both head back inside and take turns showering. He asked me to go first and left me another sweatshirt and sweatpants that I know won’t fit, but I’ll get creative. I roll up the bottoms and use the strings at the waistband to tie around me so they don’t fall off. I hide the first hoodie. I’m not ready to part with it. It forever holds a very special memory now.
Holy shit.
I have never come that hard. In. My. Life.
Brian once tried to get me off during a makeout session, but he got weird about it and chased my orgasm away. Asking him to go home after wasn’t fun. He thought for sure I’d sleep with him and made that known.
My West.He’s been carrying that heavy darkness all by himself all these years. As he told his story, I felt the shame he coated over himself like a dingy, too big and heavy coat.
I couldn’t allow him to keep seeing himself that way. I know him. Even with our time apart, I know that man’s heart. I know his soul.
The last thing I expected was that first kiss. But once his soft lips touched mine, something right fell into place. It wasn’t awkward. It was gentle, intimate, beautiful. Then we caused my body to soar.
I wanted to have all of him. I wanted him inside me so bad.
I cover my face and groan. “You begged him to fuck you.”
“I almost did.”
I jump and spin around, tripping over air and catching myself on the living room couch.
“Um,” I stutter.Shit.I shouldn’t have said that out loud.
His hair is wet and combed back. His Henley stretches over his chest and shoulders in sinful ways. And those low-slung jeans. Not too baggy. Fitted just right that I can almost make out the imprint of his impressive dick.
“Little Pixie,” his deep voice warns. He tips my face up with his finger under my chin. “Stop looking at my dick like you’d eat it for dessert.”
“I would,” I whisper to myself, only, judging by the flare in his nostrils, I most definitely said that out loud.
“We need to talk.”
I sigh. “Uh oh.”Please don’t say you regret what happened.
We sit on the couch. My heart eases somewhat when he sits with our thighs touching. West takes my hand. His thumb caresses my skin, tracing small veins.
“You regret it?” I ask. I have to know.
His head snaps up. “No.” I exhale. “God, no.” He turns his body into me and cups my cheek while still holding my hand. “Nyx. What you gave me the honor of experiencing with you out there will forever stay with me.”
He whispers, “My goddess. How was I supposed to resist you?”
“Don’t,” I say.
“I don’t think I want to,” he confesses quietly. “But Styx.”
Ah. Cold wash of reality.
“He can’t dictate who I want to be with.”
West searches my eyes. “And you want that? To be with me? We haven’t seen each other in over six years, Cami. What if what you’re feeling is residue from the past?”
“Do you trust that I know my own mind? My heart?” This is important. I need to trust that he, too, isn’t seeing the young girl, teenager, then young woman he once labeled his best friend’s sister.
The hand at my neck pulses. “I do. Trust you know your own mind.”
