Page 61 of Fault Lines
He glared, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. “Green is not your color.”
“I don’t care! I’m going to wear it anyway!” With a jerk, I yanked open the top drawer, reaching for a pair of underwear and tugging them on. My hands trembled as I faced him. “You’re married to me, Cam. You’re supposed to be mine, but I’m left watching while you practically drool over every woman who bats her lashes at you. You’re weak. So weak.”
He crossed the room in two strides and swept me off my feet, carrying me to the bed. He came down on top of me, pinning me there.
“I am not weak,” he growled. His eyes were wild, pleading and angry all at once. “You know I need this. We’ve been over it a hundred times, Livi.”
“Then you don’t need me!” I screamed back, the words raw and ugly as they left my mouth. “If what you need is an endless parade of new women, then why am I here at all? You should just let me go.”
“Never.” His voice was steel now, his teeth nipping at my neck, holding me in place. “You’re mine, Livi. Always. It doesn’t matter how many women come and go in my bed; you’ll still wait for me. That’s what love is. That’s what loyalty is. I did a lousy job today. I should’ve been more discreet, and I’m sorry I hurt you. But don’t you dare give up on me. We’re going to make it through.”
His lips traced my jaw and, as always, the physical longing crashed over me, fierce and sudden. But I forced it down. I wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Not this time.
“It’s been months, Cam. You’re not any closer to stopping than you were at the start. I need to feel loved, wanted. You can’t give me that if you keep seeing them.” My voice shook but I got it out.
He let out a sigh against my skin, his breath hot along my collarbone. “It’ll end, Livi, I promise. Sooner or later, it’ll end. Let me show you how much I love you. How much I need you. Just let me remind you of that.”
He began kissing his way down my neck again, and I let go for a second, sinking into the sensation, wanting him. Needing him. Wanting to believe that maybe this time would be different.
But a thought surfaced. “Wait,” I said, remembering.
He barely paused, voice hoarse, “No.”
“No, wait, really.” I pushed on his shoulders, trying to get his attention. “I brought something. Rachel and I picked it out for my birthday.”
That got through. He lifted up, eyes searching mine. “Oh? Something I’ll like?” He smirked.
I shrugged, a little nervous now that the idea was real. “I hope so.”
He rolled off me with an exaggerated huff. “Well then, hurry up.”
I slid out of bed, going straight to the dresser. I grabbed the little bundle of red lingerie and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. The panties came off, and the new thing went on. I caught my reflection in the mirror and tried to arrange it, tried to make it look the way I wanted it to.
It was bright, beautiful red against pale skin, and for a moment I almost felt pretty. But then reality seeped back in. My boobs weren’t as full as April’s; I’d seen hers and was pretty sure they weren’t real, but they were perfect anyway. Just like her abs, which were hard and smooth. Not like mine, soft through the middle now after months of hormone treatments and failed fertility appointments. My thighs looked thicker, too.
I didn’t look bad, exactly. But compared to April—or Brinley, or even Lacey—I wasn’t enough. Not when I stacked myself against all the faceless women who had paraded through Cam’s bed. I stared at myself, doubts crawling under my skin, and suddenly I didn’t want to step out there at all. I’d only make a fool of myself.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
“Baby?” Cam asked. “Are you okay?”
My throat felt tight. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I gripped the edge of the counter and tried to slow my breathing, but the panic kept building. Maybe I could fake a headache. Say my stomach hurt from the sun, or pretend I was too tired. Anything to avoid walking out there in this ridiculous, too-bright thing.
I braced both hands on the marble and bent over, fighting for air. But then Cam opened the door, crossing the floor andgathering me in before I could protest. His arms locked around me, pulling me back from the edge.
“What happened?” he murmured, voice suddenly so gentle. “Why are you upset?”
I pressed my face into his chest and blinked hard, trying to get myself under control.
He sank to the floor and settled me in his lap, rocking us both. Back and forth, patiently, until my breathing slowed and the trembling faded.
“Breathe, Livi,” he coaxed. “Deep breaths. You’re okay.”
It took a minute—I was gulping air at first, shuddering inside and out—but finally I began to come back to myself. Eventually, when my heart wasn’t pounding so hard, he nudged us both back to our feet.
He steadied me and tipped my chin so I had to meet his eyes. “Can you tell me what that was about?”
