Page 17 of Cam
The corner of her mouth twitched up.
“Cam Wilder is a dumbass.”
I grunted.
“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry for tossing those hurtful words at you. I want you to know I will never, ever,everspeak to you like that again.”
She nodded. “That’s a lot for me to repeat.”
I huffed. “Then repeat this: Cam is going to take care of me from now on.”
Her mouth opened and her gaze flew up to meet mine. I waited, pretty much held my breath for her tomake the decision about belonging to me. Had she really been right there with me that night at the bar? Had she felt the same way? Had she run off because she was protectingmefrom herself?
Her, a pint-sized handful of lush curves and sweetness, trying to do what she thought was best for me, a big, gruff–dumb–cowboy?
This was the moment. Right now. My little red was debating whether to have me in her life or not. Just like she had been selfless trying to protect me, I’d be selfless and let her walk if it meant protecting herself fromme.
No. That was never gonna happen. She was mine and I’d be patient and woo her. Date her. Take my time and make her see that I was it for her.
“Cam is going to take care of me from now on,” she whispered as she lifted her head to look me in the eye.
Or she could say that and move the rest of our life together along. FUCK YES.
“That’s my red,” I whispered, then cupped her cheek and kissed her.
When she gasped, my tongue found hers. Her hands settled on my biceps, her fingers curling around the cotton of my shirt.
We kissed and kissed in my truck like hornyteenagers with no other place to go. But I was thirty-two and had a house of my own. A big bed. Privacy.
“Time to go home.” I stroked her silky, slightly damp hair. “Gonna make you mine for the first time in my bed. Our bed.”
“Yes, Cam. Hurry.”
9
TAYLOR
Through the front windshield,I took in the exterior of Cam’s small house. Log and stone. A glossy black front door with lit sconces that flanked it. One floor.
That was all I saw before he opened my door for me and led me inside. Besides a single light in the entry, the rest of the house was dark.
“I’ll show you the place. Later.” Then he kissed me and carried me at the same time. He flicked on a lightswitch, then set me down. We were in his bedroom. Tan walls. Cream carpet. There was a huge bed, no head or footboard. It was made, barely, as if he’d tossed the comforter up this morning.
The room smelled like him, soap or shampoo or deodorant or all three.
He hooked his fingers at the bottom of my hoodie and tugged it up.
“Too many clothes. I popped your cherry but haven’t seen you bare.”
In the summer, I wore sleep shorts and a tank top. Now that there was a heating bill, I bundled up in thick sweats. That was why, when Cam got my hoodie off, he found me bare.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” His gaze was on my chest and I tried really, really hard not to fidget or cover myself.
No man had seen me like this before, but Cam’s gaze was heated and dark.
“Bare on the bottom, too?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, only, pushed at the elastic at my waist and had the sweats around my ankles in seconds.
I stepped on the ankles and pulled one foot free, then the other.
