For the Plot (All for Love #1)

Chapter 17

17

Cameron

Joey shudders beneath my fingers when I clasp her arm, her eyes full of a somber curiosity. The two of us are connected, frozen, and while the noise level of the bar rivals that of New York City on any Saturday night, I hear only the beat of my heart.

“I need to leave.” She tugs her arm back, but the move is half-hearted.

“I’ll go with you,” I say as I rise from my chair.

She doesn’t object when I follow her out of the bar. The cool island breeze is refreshing against my skin, but in Joey’s tiny dress, it’s got to be downright chilly. God, that fucking dress. The champagne color complements her golden skin perfectly, but it’s the plunging neckline that has a choke hold on me. No, wait. I change my mind. It’s the way the dress hugs her ass. And her hair? It’s already in a ponytail, and it’s so long I bet I could wrap it around my fist a few times.

Fuck, I need to pull myself together.

On the sidewalk outside the resort bar, she peers over her shoulder and gives me a once-over, her eyes twinkling, and lets out a throaty laugh .

“What?”

“You may need to adjust your pants, darling,” she drawls, turning and pointedly staring at my crotch.

Stopping short before I bump into her, I peer down, but nothing is externally obvious. “ Ha ha . You caught me.” I shrug.

“Caught you what?”

She’s playing dumb, but I’ll indulge her. “Checking you out.” I give her body another long, luxurious perusal and pause at her plush lips for a couple of breaths before locking in on her eyes.

Satisfaction purses her lips, and she shakes her head. “What—” she begins. “How—How are we even back here? Together.”

My heart flips at the way she says “together.”

“I don’t know, but don’t you think it’s a sign?”

“A sign?” She scoffs and takes a step toward me. “Do you really believe in signs?”

“I don’t know.” I scratch at my jaw and scan the quiet space around us, easing my way closer to her. “But I think this is too wild to be a coincidence. Don’t you?”

Of their own accord, our fingers lazily lock together between us, but only for a heartbeat before she withdraws and steps to the side, making room for a family coming down on the path.

With a groan, she tips her head back and surveys the night sky. “I don’t know what I think. Or what the hell the universe is trying to do. What I do know, though, is that one year ago, you made it perfectly clear that hooking up with me was a huge mistake.”

“I—”

She holds up a hand, and I snap my mouth shut. If only that hand were holding mine again.

“You were an asshole to me, remember? Am I just supposed to forget and climb onto your lap again?” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and scrutinizes me, her brow furrowed.

With a long sigh, I let my shoulders drop. “You’re right,” I begin. “I was an asshole. I never should have said what we did was a mistake.” I run my fingers through my hair. “It didn’t take me long to realize that I said those things to protect myself. Finding out Hayden cheated on me fucked with me. But holding on to the memory of you—of us, our night—for the past year and knowing I’d never see you again fucked with me even more.”

She steps closer, her heels clicking on the concrete. Her eyes are glowing beneath the moonlight, her mouth parted with anticipation. And for the first time tonight, I catch a handful of hope.

For a moment, I’m confident she’s going to kiss me. Fuck. Lord knows I want her to, but not here.

“Can I show you something?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets to prevent myself from reaching out for her. “Please.”

She watches me, her dark eyes a mix between curious and wary.

“Okay,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.

With a hand on her lower back, I lead her down the path. A few slap-happy teenagers nearly bump into us, causing me to step in so close I get a whiff of Joey’s perfume. I swipe my keycard to unlock my office and hold out an arm, silently signaling her to walk inside ahead of me.

The shared office space isn’t much to look at. Four desks set up in two pairs, all with laptops and matching ergonomic chairs. I make my way to my mostly clutter-free station near the back of the room. Joey follows, and when I stop, she props a hip on the edge of the desk next to me.

Besides a few pens and a stack of sticky notes, the only other item on display is an 8x10 photo in a frame. With a deep breath in, I pick it up and pass it to her.

She gasps. “When?—”

“I didn’t know it was you when I took it,” I say, watching her expression go from confusion to shock to a little awe as she absorbs the image in the frame. It’s a photo of her, reckless in midair, pure, unadulterated joy plastered on her face, right before she plunged into the sea.

“But why—” She lifts her head and meets my gaze, blinking.

When she turns her full attention on me like this, it’s like a hit to the solar plexus. It knocks the air from my lungs. “Why did I frame it?”

She nods, dipping her chin to examine the photo again. The reminiscent smile that forms on her lips grows the longer she studies it. Thank fuck the image elicits happiness rather than bringing up bad memories of a shitty time in her life.

I take the frame from her and set it back where it’s been sitting for the month since I arrived, then prop myself up against the desk, mirroring her. “It’s the image that urged me to pursue photography full time. It’s the image I submitted to apply for this job.”

“It is?” Joey fiddles with the gold rings on her fingers.

One small shift in her direction and we’d be touching. Just being this close to her ignites a low flame of desire inside me. “Do you remember when you told me not to live my life for others? To do what makes me happy?” I ask.

She nods again, rolling her bottom lip with her teeth. Without thinking, I press my thumb against the plump flesh, releasing it. She lets out a barely audible sigh, and when she doesn’t pull back, I drag the pad of my thumb down her chin, then her throat, along her clavicle to the top of her shoulder. I take a moment to relish the smoothness of her skin, then drop my hand, but only so I can grasp hers and intertwine our fingers.

“You saved me from my boring life. As soon as I got back to New York, I quit my job.”

“You did?” Her voice breaks with a surprised sort of charm.

“I did.” I let out a husky laugh. “I’ve busted my ass for the last year, but I’ve never looked back. A couple of months ago, Ezra encouraged me to reach out to this resort and see if they were hiring for the summer. It was this picture,” I point to the frame, “that I submitted along with my resume. You got me this job. So no, I don’t know how it’s possible that we’re both here but?—”

She presses her lips to mine, cutting me off, and loops her arms around my neck.

With one arm around her waist, I drag her to stand between my legs.

Pulling back just a little, she tips her chin and scans my face, searching my eyes, but a second later, she’s diving back in. Our kiss is urgent and exploratory, like we’re making up for lost time. In a way, I suppose we are.

I bend to kiss the hollow at the base of her throat, eliciting the kind of moan I’ve dreamed about for months. It sends blood rushing straight to my dick. She trails her fingers up and down my arms while I caress the smooth bare skin at the small of her back and work my way up to capture her lips again.

With a hum, she buries her face in the crook of my neck, her eyelashes fluttering against my skin. She’s got her arms draped around me like a necklace, so I use the opportunity to pull her even closer.

“Tell me you’ve thought about me,” I whisper, my heart drumming rapidly.

She rakes her fingers through the hair at my nape, sending a warm shiver through me. “I have,” she says into my skin.

“You’ve what?” I lean back for a better view. I need to hear her say it.

“I’ve thought about you,” she admits, loosening her hold on me just a little.

My shoulders relax, and I let out a long exhale. I cup her face with both hands so I can soak in all her lovely features. The face that’s overpowered my dreams for the past year .

Her laughter breaks the silence, and she rests her palms on my chest. “I can’t believe you framed my picture.”

“I can’t believe I found you again.”