Chapter 13
KYLE
When Cami came downstairs for dinner, something was different. She was beautiful as ever, with glowing skin, and clear blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed. I worked hard to make her laugh because I loved to see it.
But tonight, she smiled without me coaxing it out of her.
Her hair fell in golden waves to her shoulders.
She wore a short white sundress dotted with pink flowers instead of shorts and a T-shirt.
I was a huge fan of Cami in a T-shirt, but that sundress was almost enough to make me lose control.
It didn’t help that it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra under the haltered top.
When I flirted with her and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, one of her tells that I was having a physical effect on her, her nipples pebbled into sharp peaks and the clingy fabric left little to my lascivious imagination.
She pulled plates out of the cupboard and silverware out of the drawer.
She chatted as she set the table and I practiced deep breathing as I worked on the salad, glad for the distance between us.
Then she bent to lean across the table and her skirt rose up in the back, exposing the sexiest pink lace panties I’d ever seen.
Then again, plain white cotton would be sexy as fuck covering that ass.
I was getting used to living in a constant state of semi-to-full arousal with her in my house, but that didn’t mean it was anywhere close to easy. I concentrated on the vegetables in front of me to try to calm my raging hard-on.
She joined me at the island. I moved around the kitchen, checking the chicken casserole in the oven, taking down water glasses, doing everything I could to avoid touching her.
Otherwise, I’d be tempted to run my hand down her exposed back or cup my hand over her firm ass in that pink lace or—God help me—untie that halter top and palm her luscious tits.
But she followed me, talking as we had the last two nights, only this time, occasionally touching my forearm or brushing against my arm or nudging her knee into my leg.
She laid her hand on the small of my back. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
I used every bit of my willpower to resist moving that hand around to my front and letting her help me with the biggest problem I had at that moment. Instead, I said, “Can you choose a bottle of wine from the basement?”
While she did that, I used the time to practice the deep breathing and focusing techniques I’d been taught to minimize pain.
And yes, my need for her was its own kind of pain.
It had been relatively easy to keep it in check throughout our days and evenings together because I loved hanging out with her, talking, laughing, learning about her life, sharing about mine.
But I’d been losing my mind every night, lying on the sofa, thinking of her in my bed, wishing I was in it with her.
Tonight, I might not make it through dinner without breaking my vow that she would have to make the first move if anything more was going to happen between us.
Unless she was making a move. Standing close to me, touching me, laying her hand on my back. No. That wasn’t proof of anything. We were closer now. She felt more comfortable with me. I wasn’t going to violate that trust.
She returned a minute later with a bottle of wine.
I took the casserole out of the oven and placed it on the table while she opened the wine and poured a glass for each of us.
We fell back into easy conversation over dinner.
I was glad I hadn’t read too much into her friendliness because it might have ruined something between us.
As we finished our meal, Bella yawned and trotted to the back door for her final outing of the night.
“I’ll start the dishes while you take care of her,” Cami offered.
A few minutes later, Bella and I returned.
The dog trotted over to Cami for goodnight pets, stopped by her water bowl for the final drink of the evening, then followed me up the stairs to her crate.
I went through our routine for the night with lots of petting while telling her what a good girl she was, and setting her favorite toy, a stuffed octopus, beside her.
I closed the crate door and she turned in one circle, then settled in with her cone propping up her head.
“Cami says you only have to wear that a few more days,” I told her, but she had already closed her eyes.
“And I’ve ordered another bed just for you that will go in my room.
Once your incisions have healed, you can sleep in there.
Who knows? Maybe Cami will still be here if it’s not safe enough for her to go home by then.
” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Or if we can convince her to stay with us for a while.”
That brought me right back to my pre-dinner dilemma. Fuuuuck. I would have to make an early escape to my office again tonight so I didn’t do any of the stupid things I’d been fantasizing about since the second she’d walked into the kitchen in that dress.
I turned off the light in Bella’s room and stopped off at the bathroom to wash my hands and splash my face with cold, bracing water.
When I couldn’t come up with any other stall tactics, I went back downstairs.
Cami had turned off the overhead lights and left on only the pendant lights over the island.
The table, counters, and sink were clean and cleared of dishes.
On the table, there were two rocks glasses with a portion of bourbon in each.
I sat back down across from her and placed Bella’s monitor on the table.
Cami lifted her glass in a toast.
“What are we drinking to?” I asked.
Her tongue darted out and licked her soft pink lips. My cock jumped to attention and my vision crossed for a second.
“To possibilities.” She clinked my glass. We both drank, then set down our glasses. “And to wild ideas.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You have a wild idea to share?” My heart kicked up about twenty notches while I waited.
“Maybe. Maybe it’s crazy, or maybe it’s the sanest thought I ever had.” She glanced at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.
My insides melted. I wanted to hear her idea.
I wanted to hear everything she had to say, to know everything about her.
Maybe it was just physical need, being too close to this beautiful woman, wanting her so much, but not being able to touch her.
But with every minute we spent together, with every word she spoke, I believed that less and less. Shit, I was falling for her.
“What would you say,” she continued, “if I told you I want to come over there and climb into your lap?”
“I wouldn’t say anything.” I slid my chair back from the table, exposing my lap, and patted my thigh.
The moment of truth. If she wanted me, this was the move she needed to make.
She stood and inched toward me, moving in slow motion.
Or maybe that’s the way my brain was recording it so I could remember it later and forever, in every excruciating, exquisite detail.
She stopped in front of me, her chest in my eyeline.
Any second now, I would untie her halter top and let it fall to her waist, and then I would taste her.
The subtle scent of vanilla and strawberries pulled me to her like a magnet. Strawberries. Her shaving cream. I imagined her thinking about me as she shaved, running her hands over her smooth skin, all the while wanting the touch to be mine.
Mine. She was mine. Or she would be, if she moved just a few inches closer.
She placed a hand on each of my shoulders and slid onto my lap, straddling me.
I’d been ready for her sweet, round ass to settle onto my thighs, but parting her legs and pressing herself into my hard-on made me nearly lose conscious thought.
I closed my eyes to center myself. I could feel her heat through the layers of her lacy panties and my clothes.
I opened my eyes and laid one hand on her smooth, warm back while I slid the other one under her skirt and cupped one round, firm, lace-covered cheek.
Her eyes were hooded and her pupils were blown and her soft breaths tickled my cheek.
I groaned with sheer pleasure, which made her suck in her breath and arch against me.
She wriggled against my erection. Jesus. I mustered years of discipline to slow my roll. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself by blowing my load in my pants just from having her on my lap.
“You seem very glad to see me,” she whispered.
“I am so glad to see you. I can’t wait to see all of you.”
She leaned closer until her lips were a few inches from mine. I could taste the sweetness of the whiskey on her breath.
“Good to hear,” she whispered, “because I have plans for you tonight.”