Page 79 of Most Valuable Player
Despite the glaring fractures in my soul, he makes me feel desirable. Like there’s something about me worth claiming.
I wasn’t sure I could be intimate with someone after Liam. I fumbled for excuses to avoid it, because I knew the weather would be warm or because I could still feel phantom pain from our previous rounds. Kissing became something I winced away from, and his touch made me fidget with discomfort.
This isn’t like that. I canfeelCameron’s intentions. As his hand presses up the length of my waist and rib cage, dragging my shirt with it, my agitated heart nearly overloads. He knows what he’s doing, taking his time, fully conscientious of every shift of his body. He’s not acting out of his own desire—he’s also testing the waters to see what I like.
I tighten my knees around the flare of his hips. This is how it’s meant to feel, isn’t it? Though his left arm does the work to suspend him above me, his fingertips rest near my hair, which he threads and twirls between his knuckles with gentle reverence, like every strand is precious to him.
How did I not realize something was missing? When did Liam stop caring about the way I felt? How could I go back to him now that I know there are others who can care about me, who are willing to wait and be patient for me to open up?
I’m feeling selfish, and maybe that’s okay. I crunch my fists around Cameron’s T-shirt, tugging up. He makes a noise of surprise, but pauses a kiss so I can slide it over his head, leaving his midsection bare. “Too much fabric,” I say, smiling guiltily.
He returns this with a boyish one of his own. “If you want to see me naked, just say so.”
“I basically have,” I point out. “At Ravi’s party. You were drenched in your underwear. Didn’t leave much room for imagination.”
Cameron’s grin only widens. “So you were looking.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say with a smirk, flicking his nose. “You took me by surprise when I walked in. Your junk was right there, staring me in the face.”
“Maybe my junk just wanted to say hello.”
“Oh, it did. Trust me.”
Cameron bursts into surprised laughter, and it makes me feel warm and cozy. He laughs the way flames crackle in a firepit. “I’m going to kiss you until you can’t stand it,” he whispers, and he plunges back down before I can stammer through a witty retort, working my lips like he wants to devour me. His skin is soft and smells like warm vanilla bodywash. His muscles flex tantalizingly beneath my touch, bones shifting, blood pumping, heart throbbing.
My hands entice him. I can feel how he reacts to me—the tremble of his skin when I graze his hip with my fingertips, my touch featherlight. The tightening of his stomach muscles when I arch up against his chest. The sigh when I scratch a line down his spine with my index finger.
Did Liam ever react like this, like the mere sensation of my touch was intoxicating? I don’t think he cared much about my hands, despite how forcefully he restrained them.
Cameron is fully aware of my touch, and it’s invigorating. Even though I’m lying beneath his weight, I feel like I have control. This heightens when I give an experimental push, and he obeys the command, rolling onto his back so I’m the one hovering over him. He’s wearing that same playful smile from earlier that only deepens the flush in my cheeks.
“What?” I demand. “I’ve never gotten to straddle someone.”
“Nothing. You’re cute, is all.”
“I’d rather be sexy right now,” I admit.
“You are.”
I blink at him in surprise. When he notices, he makes an exasperated hand gesture.
“Like, you’re sitting on my waist wearing my clothes, and the shirt is falling off your shoulders, and your hair is rumpled up and you smell like my bodywash. It’s making things very difficult for me.”
That warm rush floods my stomach. Liam used words like “cute” and “adorable” and “pretty” but rarely things like “sexy.” It always made me more conscious of our age gap—I wanted to mature faster. “What’s difficult about this?” I ask, bending over so the loose fabric of my shirt grazes Cameron’s bare chest, and our faces hover inches apart.
His fingertips trace an enticing trail up from the outsides of my thighs, to the curves of my hips, to the sides of my waist. “The fact that we’re only friends with kissing benefits until Friday,” he mumbles, eyes lingering on my lips.
I nudge my nose against his, smirking. “I told you to ask me out.”
He sighs, maybe regretting his decision. Then he reaches up suddenly, hands fumbling around the back of my neck. A heavy weight disappears from my shoulders as he unclasps the aquamarine necklace dangling between us and sets it aside. I didn’t realize I was still wearing it. “Do you even like jewelry?” he mutters.
“Mm…I don’t mind it.”
He catches my jawline and pulls me into a fervent kiss. Maybe he just remembered he said he’d kiss me until I couldn’t stand it. And I can stand it quite a bit, so he has a lot of work to do. I won’t make it easy, either. Cameron is fun to torment. So I tug and nip, testing hislimits to try to make him throw in the towel. And maybe I move my hips suggestively a few times to draw out groans of frustration.
How far can I push him? Even being wrapped in his charm, I feel nagging suspicion. Part of me wants to see if I should do something to genuinely irritate him, just to see his reaction. What if I accidentally elbow him or knock my teeth against his? On the field, he punched someone for making him angry. I’d be lying if I said that moment hasn’t been lingering in my mind.
Yet Cameron has made me feel precious in a way Liam maybe never did.
