Chapter 4 #2
I count the flecks of honey in her hazel eyes and count from ten again.
Four.
Her black lashes give her eyes a cat shape.
Three.
Her pert nose, cute on her heart-shaped face.
Two.
Her full lips that I’m dying to taste.
One.
Her hair, long, silk waves. I reach out and rub strands between my fingers.
She whispers, “Welcome back.”
My eyes bounce back to hers. I blink away the anger. “Sorry,” I croak, then clear my throat.
She studies me. Too closely.
“Where did you just go?” she asks, still holding my face. I attempt to pull away, but she holds on more tightly. “Uh uh. Stay right here.”
I inhale deeply, letting it go slowly through my mouth. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” At her skeptical look, I close my eyes. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
Her thumb runs softly over my face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
I humorlessly laugh. “Trust me, I do.” I gently take her hands and have her let go so I can walk over to the terrace doors.
I open the glass doors, letting the crisp October cold shake me back to myself.
I step out onto the deck, and with my hands in my pockets, I focus on the mountains.
Her presence is like a weight I physically feel near without touch.
Soothing. You want to lean in until you make contact.
She stands in solidarity beside me, breathing with me. Quiet. Waiting.
“When they died, my parents…that year was hard,” I begin to tell her something only her brother truly knows. My brother’s probably suspected, but were dealing with their own darkness and grief at the time.
“Their death didn’t add up. Something felt…off about it. We had pieces to a large jigsaw puzzle, but none of the pieces we had were ones that connected. The frustration of knowing something happened but having no proof or definitive answers? That fucked with all of us. In different ways.”
“How did it fuck with you?” she asks boldly, knowing where I’m trying to get at.
I see the mountain view, and yet I don’t. I’m remembering nights living off whiskey in a shack by Johnson Creek. I went weeks with my brothers not knowing where I was.
“Styx and I went to a bar outside of Eden one weekend. I’d been in a dark place for months. He hoped, without the pressure of people who’d know me, I’d be able to allow myself to just be whatever I needed to be and feel. I didn’t have to be West, the fun-loving, good guy.” I shake my head.
Her hand lands at the base of my back. The heat of her skin seeps into my sweater. It keeps me here instead of in that memory.
“Some dick was harassing a young girl. Hell, she couldn’t have even been twenty-one yet. He was older than me, feeling her up behind the pool table, blocking her escape. I don’t know,” I say softly, shame coating my skin like a toxic film.
“I snapped. I demanded that he back off her. Of course, he didn’t listen. His boys tried to step in, but my eyes were focused on him. He was my target. He was my excuse to release all the rage pent up in me for almost a year.”
Camille leans her side into mine. My eyes close, and I let out the heaviness in my chest.
“I grabbed the back of his collar, pulled him off her, and slammed his body on the ground. Around us, a bar fight started, but I was punching him. Over and over. Fuck, Camille. I would’ve killed him if Styx hadn’t pulled me off him.”
“The idea of that girl, scared, cornered. I hated that evil men get away with evil shit every day.” I sit in that for a moment. She doesn’t rush me or ask a follow-up. Just patiently waits.
“Styx got us out of there. The cops were on their way. Later that week, I begged Styx to find out if the guy was okay. He ended up in the ER but was home two days later.” I swallow the thick knot in my throat. “I did that. I took my anger out on another human. That’s in me now.”
“That’s not who you are, West.”
“It is now.”
Camille takes my hand out of my pocket, holds it, and pulls me to the outdoor couch. She pulls me down to sit next to her. I numbly follow. Once seated, Camille swings her leg over and straddles my hips.
Shocked, I lean back, keeping my hands up and off her. “Camille.”
“Shh,” she orders, settling in and cupping my neck with her hands. “Now, that you’re grounded back to the present, I want you to listen very closely to what I’m about to tell you. Okay?”
Her eyes are bright, clear, and wildly determined. My arms lower, and my hands rest at her hips. The weight of her on my lap feels so damn good. Unconsciously, my hands roam up her back, bringing her closer. She leans in and speaks inches away from my lips.
“That young man back then was lost in grief. No,” she stops me from interjecting.
“Let me finish.” I nod. “You had so many emotions overwhelming your mind and body. I can’t even imagine what you and your brothers went through losing Julia and Artie like that.
My parents loved your parents. When I found out, my heart broke.
I hated that I couldn’t get out of school to come to the funeral. ”
The memory of standing at their burial, the sky lightly sprinkling, crying along with us. I remember her parents, Marjorie and Stan being there.
“West Hunter. I’ve known you practically my whole life.
And while I haven’t been around in recent years, I still see the boy, the young man whose heart is so damn big, I watched him take care of everyone around him by making their hearts lighter with laughter.
You always watched the room. The moment you saw someone down, you went to tease or joke with someone nearby just to get a reaction from them. ”
My ribs squeeze with every breath, seeing what I looked like through her eyes.
“Age comes with deep revelations about who we are and who we could be. We’re all susceptible to the most vile of evils…
but with life experience, we learn we can choose.
We pick the path we want to go in order to map out who we become.
You see that broken, grieving young man and think that one moment made you forever. It didn’t, West.”
My hands squeeze her sides. I rest my forehead against hers, focusing on the Ridge Dive emblem embroidered on the sweatshirt she’s wearing.
Her voice is still firm but quieter. “None of us are perfect. There’s no such thing.
Like all of us, you grew into a complicated human.
None of us are black or white. We all feel deeply.
We all have complicated thoughts and moments we wish didn’t happen.
It’s what we choose to do with those moments moving forward that determines the kind of person we are.
And you, West Hunter, are kind, loving, fiercely loyal, and protective.
You are joy and warmth. You make everyone around you feel safe. ”
I pull away and look into her hazel eyes. Overwhelmed with care for this beautiful, wise, and amazing woman in my lap, my body moves before I think better of it.
I lean in and kiss her.
It’s tentative, slow, and soft.
It doesn’t feel like a first kiss. We both lean into it with an unexpected naturalness, it’s like breathing.
Her fingertips brush up my neck into my hair that curls at the end by my nape.
My hands glide up her back until one digs into that mess of silky black hair. I turn my head and deepen the kiss.
Camille’s body melts heavily into mine. She lets out the faintest whimper, and I’m done for. Desire takes over. The hand not in her hair runs back down and grabs her ass, squeezing her into my hardness.
A husky, confident moan escapes her throat as she grinds down on my dick.
I groan, tipping my hips up deeply into her. Fuck, I’m gonna come if we continue this, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
My tongue dances with hers, discovering every corner. She sucks on the tip of mine, and I use my hand on her ass to pull her harder against my shaft that pulses with red-hot heat.
“West,” she cries out, chasing her pleasure.
“What are we doing, Little Pixie?” I moan into our kiss.
“Hopefully, more of this,” she pants, pulling at my hair. “Please,” she whispers, her heated pussy battling the burn my body is building.
“Do you need to come, Little Pixie?” I bite that bottom lip that’s haunted me.
“Yes,” she breathes out, rubbing her clit frantically over my cock.
I bring my hand to the waistband of her leggings, tucking just the tips of my fingers in, and wait.
Her eyes open. Dazed and full of fire. She nods.
I run my hand down the softest skin I’ve ever felt in my life.
My middle finger slides into her crease.
Gasping, Camille presses her body harder into mine.
I take an assful in my hand and massage before sliding my hand in deeper until I feel her wet opening.
“Fuck, baby,” I rasp. I tease her opening.
Camille devours my mouth again. What started as an intimate kiss turns deep and full of passion. Her hands reach down and unbutton my jeans. Before I can protest, she reaches in, bypasses my briefs, and takes my hardened cock that’s saluting her in hand and pumps.
“Fuck,” I cry out, overstimulated. My hips shoot up into hers, making both of us cry out louder.
“Cami, I’ll come if you keep doing that,” I pant.
“Good,” she says, licking behind my ear at a sensitive point. “Take me with you. I need you, West. Please. I want you.”
“Shit,” I cough when she squeezes her palm around my tip.
“I want to rub my clit on your bare cock, West. Please, give it to me,” she bites my neck.
Holy shit. Who is this woman?
She’s already pulling my jeans down. I instinctively lift my bottom half, helping her tuck my jeans and briefs under my balls. She pulls back and looks down, taking my cock in both hands.
“Damn, you’re thick and long.” Precome shoots out. “If I weren’t about to come, I’d take you in my mouth.”
“For fuck’s sake, Pixie.” I smack her ass, needing to take control again, or I’ll leave her without finishing.
I stand, taking her with me, only to turn us and lie on top of her on the mouth. I pull her leggings down.
“You’re not wearing underwear under these?” My body is trembling, on the brink of release.
She takes my hips and pulls me back over her body. The moment my naked cock sinks between her bare, wet lips, we both moan. Loud.
“Oh, God. Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, rubbing her drenched clit up and down my shaft.
We’re both messy and haven’t even come yet. I grab her thigh, high by her hip, and wrap it tightly around my waist. I kiss her with everything I have. Tongue, teeth, lips, we’re ravaged by this need.
I thrust between her lips, bumping her clit with my tip, then sliding my shaft against it. At one point, I almost nudge into her pussy. Growling, I pull the tip out and focus on keeping it between her lips instead.
“Fuck me, West. Fuck me,” she cries wildly into my mouth.
“Not yet, baby. Not yet,” I pant. “Come for me, Pixie. Drench my cock with it.”
“Dirty me up, West. I want your come all over me.”
I bite her neck, feeling my spine tighten up. “Dirty fucking mouth.” Our bodies chase almost desperately the high of release. Camille wraps both legs around my waist, and her body stiffens before she cries out my name, and it’s the most fucking beautiful sound I’ve heard.
My balls pulse, and a delicious heat rushes up my cock before my body locks and I explode.
“Camile,” I choke, my hips losing rhythm as I shoot come all over her slit and stomach that’s exposed from my sweatshirt riding up.
I curse, my body collapsing half over hers. She holds me tightly against her. Both of us struggle to catch our breath. The world at my back is cool and crisp, but between our bodies, it’s an inferno keeping us warm.
I press delicate kisses of adoration over her neck, chin, cheek, then an intimate kiss on her lips that says, thank you. We keep our lips pressed together as she cups my cheek.
When I pull back, what I see turns my world upside down. Love-drunk, hooded eyes look back at me. Her expression is serene. Something clicks into place in my chest. The world makes sense. Life feels different in an instant.
I wasn’t sure this would happen for me. I’ve seen it take down my brothers one by one. In this moment, I get it. This woman in my arms is mine. And I am hers. I brush her hair off her eyes. Camille leans her face into my touch.
“Hi,” she whispers.
Fuck. I’m falling for my best friend’s little sister.