For the Plot (All for Love #1)

Chapter 35

35

Josefine

I must have forgotten to set my alarm this morning, because I wake to a sunlit room and the smell of bacon and coffee, then discover it’s already ten. Shit. My plan was to get up at eight and be out of here shortly after. And I still need to run by the store for a replacement water bottle for the woman I bumped into last week before tonight’s writing workshop.

After brushing my teeth, I secure my hair with a gold claw clip and take the world’s fastest shower. I don’t even bother to wait until the water is warm. I guess a little bit of Greece came home with me after all. I pull on a short yellow sundress I bought in the resort’s boutique, then pull in a fortifying breath, straighten my shoulders, and venture to the kitchen.

Cameron is standing over the hot stove, wearing his glasses, and he’s got a cup of coffee pressed to his lips.

“Morning,” I announce, reaching into the cabinet for a mug of my own.

“Morning,” he echoes, pulling on the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Fuck, I really wish he’d take those off. No, not like that. I mean wear something less sexy. It’s a well-known fact that women can’t focus when in the proximity of men wearing gray sweatpants. If Scientific American hasn’t published an article on it already, they’re sure to release it any day now. The sight of his shirtless chest and abs aren’t helping either.

I utter a thanks when he pours me a mug of freshly brewed coffee from the French press and shuffle behind him to get to the fridge, careful not to brush up against him in the narrow galley kitchen. I want to take a mental inventory of what I need to replace.

“What the—” I pause when the cool air hits me. Inside, the shelves are exquisitely stocked. The display before me would put The Home Edit to shame.

I stand up straight and spin. “Did you?—”

“I went shopping this morning.” He shrugs, laying the last strip of bacon on a plate just as the oven timer goes off.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was going to wake up early to replace everything this morning, but I guess I forgot to set my alarm.”

By “forgot,” I mean that I was too distracted by our matching orgasms.

With a grin, he dons an oven mitt and pulls a Michelin-worthy quiche from the oven. “ Thank you, Cam, is acceptable.”

“ Thank you, Cameron, ” I mock, bringing my mug to my lips. There’s nothing like the first sip of coffee in the morning.

Once the quiche is resting on the stovetop, he props himself up against the counter and folds his arms over his chest, putting his perfect pecs on display. “Since when am I Cameron?”

I shrug, hiding behind my mug. “Ezra may have mentioned that only family and close friends call you Cam.”

Pushing off the counter, he picks up his own coffee, then he takes a step in my direction. “I’ve been inside you, Joey. How much closer can two people get?” He taps his porcelain cup against mine with a wink. “Call me Cam. ”

My body breaks out in a shiver as I’m once again assaulted by images of our little mutual masturbation session last night. Not that there was anything little about it. He hovers close and opens the cabinet above me. Desperate for a hit of air that doesn’t smell like him, I scurry to the sink and fill the water glass I left there last night, then chug its contents.

“Listen.” I swipe at the water that dribbled down my chest in my haste, and shit if he doesn’t home in on the movement. “What happened last night…it—it can’t happen again.”

“I think I’ve heard that before.” He rolls his eyes as he pulls silverware from the drawer.

“I’m serious,” I say, making my way to a stool at the bar.

He plates the quiche. It’s filled with tomatoes, onions, spinach, and sweet potatoes, and it looks incredible. Then he sets the plate of bacon on the bar and drops into the stool beside me.

“Joey.”

“No, wait.”

He snaps his mouth shut and regards me with a patient expression.

“I don’t know what came over me last night.”

Actually, I do know what came over me . And he does too, if the smirk on his face is any indication. I drop my chin and sigh. “I was frustrated and?—”

“Horny.”

I roll my eyes. I really hate that word. “ Aroused .” (Though is that any better?) “And you were there.” I drag my hand down my face and let my shoulders slump. “But if I’m going to be serious about writing my book, I need to avoid distraction. For so long, I was in a relationship that I didn’t realize was toxic. I can’t go down that path again. I need to do this myself, and I can’t let anyone get in the way.”

He drops his fork to his plate with a clatter. “You done?” he asks, his tone even .

I nod, peering over at him.

Cracking his knuckles under the table, he exhales deeply. “With all due respect, I’m tired of the bullshit.”

I wince.

“Just tell me what’s really going on. I know you feel this thing between us.”

I open my mouth, ready to argue my point, but he raises a finger between us.

“Wait.” He picks up his napkin and wipes his mouth, then spins so he’s facing me. “I don’t know what to call this thing between us, but whatever it is, it feels good, and I want more of it. Don’t give me bullshit excuses about independence. You can do whatever the fuck you set your mind to. That’s been obvious to me since the moment I met you. I don’t want to be your knight in shining armor. You don’t need one. And I’m nothing like the dipshit you wasted all that time with. I will not hold you back. I will support you in whatever capacity you need. Didn’t you read my letter? I want to be your hype guy. Please, let me be that for you. Don’t you want to see where this goes? I’m not asking you for forever; I’m just asking for right now.”