Page 165 of Story of My Life
“I’m still mad at you,” I insisted, putting my hands on his chest.
“No, you’re not.” He reached up and brushed my hair back from my face in an almost tender gesture.
“Fine. I’m still annoyed with you. And now your family is going to think there’s something going on between us.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Don’t you want to know what Nina is up to?” I asked hopefully.
“I have more important priorities,” he insisted.
That hand slid over my jaw and around the back of my neck. His face was getting closer and closer to mine.
“You arenotabout to kiss me in your parents’ house right now!” I hissed.
“Don’t tell me what I’m not about to do,” he warned a split second before he sealed his warm, hard mouth over mine.
Nonconsensual dazzling. That’s what this was, I decided as my entire body leaned into his gravitational field.
His hand wrapped around my ponytail and tugged, angling my head back. He deepened the kiss in a way that had my already-exhausted legs losing their fight against gravity. My head spun. My breath caught. His tongue expertly twined its wayaround mine until I was clinging to him so hard my knuckles hurt.
Cam grabbed my leg and hooked it over his hip, grinding his spectacular erection against me.
I whimpered into his mouth, and he devoured it ravenously.
“Fuck, Trouble,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper.
I wanted him naked, inside me, looking at me exactly the way he was looking at me now. Heavy lids, hard mouth, desire etched on his handsome face.
A sudden thumping on the office door had me careening back into reality. I tried to jump out of Cam’s grasp, but he wasn’t having it.
“What?” he snarled.
“Huh?” I blinked twice before I realized he wasn’t talking to me.
“Mom says get your ass out here and help peel the potatoes,” Gage’s voice called through the door, sounding just a little smug.
I wriggled up onto the desk to get some space from Cam’s magnetic hard-on. He looked down at my chest, and I saw his eyes go lusty. I realized my nipples were doing their best to force their way out of their confines.
He looked at me hungrily. I slapped a hand to his chest and held him off. If he kissed me again, we were screwed. “Thank you for explaining sheepshearing, Cam,” I said loudly and unconvincingly.
He tugged my hair again and brushed an amused kiss over my swollen lips.
“Anytime,” he replied.
A door banged open somewhere in the back of the house, and a chorus of greetings rang out.
36
FART BLASTER 2000
CAMPBELL
Dinner prep in my parents’kitchen was like four Gordon Ramsays yelling at the same time while pots boiled over, ingredients were hurled across the room, and dogs made tripping humans a professional sport.
We affectionately referred to the experience as the Hunger Games.
It was a full house with Dad switching closing shifts with our part-timer Conner. Laura’s kids were here too, abandoning whatever social events they had on their calendars. Mom’s meatloaf had that effect on people.
