14. Cameron
Chapter 14
Cameron
" W hy didn't you tell me Lauren was your aunt?" I ask as I pass a shot to Stormy.
She shrugs. "I didn't know it mattered."
In the scheme of things, it doesn't. Stormy doesn't know her aunt is my newest obsession simply because she stands to steal Everett from me. I still can't believe that after all the trouble he caused me the other day when Parker drove me home, he turned around and specifically asked him to drive me home today. I was beyond livid. Not just because of the double standard but because of the reason. The last person I saw him with was Lauren. We shared a moment, there's no fucking way he didn't feel it. I know in the depth of my soul he sees and feels me, but he continues to push me away, and when he didn't come home tonight, I know it's because of her. He's probably with her now, trying to forget me because, in his eyes, we don't fit. We'll never fit.
"Thanks for staying late and keying in the last of the inventory while I rushed that uniform order."
"Not a problem. It's not like I had anything better to do. There is literally nothing to do in this Podunk town."
"That's probably why teen pregnancy is on the rise around here," I say as I toy with the rim of my cardboard coaster.
"You didn't just say that."
"I did. Today, when I was grabbing an energy drink from the concession stand, I heard that two seniors are pregnant this year. Do you want to know why? Because fucking is literally all there is to do."
Stormy rolls her eyes. "Two pregnancies is hardly a rise. You need to get out more. When was the last time you left this small town anyway?"
"How about we take this shot?" I say, raising my glass and dodging the question. "I didn't buy them for us to look at." She gives me a knowing look and lets it go. We all have things we keep close to our hearts. It doesn't mean we don't value the friendships we have just because we keep some things for ourselves.
"Hey, did you guys come here to sit on these stools all night or…" Parker chides before another one of the guys from the team walks around behind him, slapping his shoulder. His hand is still on my back, and I don't miss how Stormy's eyes latch on to it, making me wonder if something didn't go down between them after they dropped me off the other day. Parker isn't a kiss-and-tell kind of guy, and while I didn't get the vibe that Stormy was into him, I don't know her well enough to say that she's not. Either way, she's noticing his hand placement now, and that tells me something happened or she wants something to happen. Leaning in, Parker says, "Hey, I'll be right back," before squeezing my shoulder and walking off.
"Here's to forgetting the shit we came here to drink about!" I say as I hold my shot up high before downing the silver bullet.
"That's actually pretty good. I'm normally not a shot taker, but I could probably do another ten of those."
"I mean, your head would probably hate you later, but we're not here to worry about the consequences. Do you dance?" I ask as I hop off my stool.
"Do I look like I dance?"
Solid point. The girl wears overalls and chucks to work every day. I mean, it's cute; she rocks the bohemian skater look well. Tonight is the first night she's ditched the overalls, and I have to say I was surprised to see her showing her legs. She's still wearing chucks, but she paired them with black torn-up jean shorts and a baggy white tank with a black lacey bralette that plays peekaboo with the distressed armholes.
"Would another round of shots change your mind?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"I'll take that as a no," I quip sardonically as I reclaim my stool. "Sure, shoot."
"Are you and Parker screwing?"
"No," I answer immediately. "But we have kissed, and he has squeezed my ass on more than one occasion."
She nods. "So he wants to fuck you. Got it."
"Parker and I are just friends, that's it. If you're interested, trust me, I am not in the picture."
"So he's a bad kisser then?"
I laugh out loud before raising my hand to get the bartender's attention for another drink.
"No, he's not a bad kisser. I'm not interested in Parker that way and vice versa. The only reason we ever kissed was because he was doing me a favor. It wasn't romantic." I watch as she stirs her Long Island iced tea with a straw and try to get a read on her, but I get nothing. I can't tell if my words settled any reservations or if she was asking because she thought we were dating. I don't pry because I have my own question to ask if we're just going to be sitting here. "So, what's the story with your aunt?"
My question doesn't faze her in the least. She doesn't even look up from her glass to acknowledge that I've spoken.
I'm just about to clear my throat and ask again, thinking she didn't hear me over the bar's noise, when she says, "Why don't you just ask me what you really want to ask me?"
The bartender finally comes over. "I'll take another spicy margarita, please." He gives me a nod, and I turn back to Stormy. The entire reason I'm out tonight is because the last time I saw Everett was this afternoon when he was dismissing me to speak with Lauren, and then he missed our six o'clock dinner. The last thing I wanted to do was be home when he got there. Am I going against his orders? Hell, yes, but I'm also not the girl who will quietly obey and sit in the corner. At least without something in return. Not to mention, I don't care to be alone. I haven't been alone since the break-in, and frankly, security or not, I didn't want to be all by myself. He should know that, and right now, I don't care if my night out sets me back. I don't want to lose me just to be with him. All I want is for him to see me the way I do him, and right now, the cocktails and the noise are subpar liars. They aren't doing nearly enough to drown out the thoughts of him. Which means I need more drinks and dirt. There's a reason I texted Stormy tonight: Lauren. I'm not one to mince my words, and I can tell she's not a small-talk kind of girl, so I get on with it. "Does she have a thing for Everett?"
"The coach… I don't think so, but I know they have a history, and the only reason I know that is because she came home in a sour mood after having lunch with him and called him a cocky bastard with an ego complex."
That doesn't settle nerves the way it should. Everett's ego is as much of a turnoff as it is a pull. You hate that he gets under your skin, and before you know it, that brooding arrogance stands on its own. You're attracted to the power, and the thing about power is everybody wants it. She might hate him now, but who doesn't want a man to fuck the hate right out of them every now and again?
The bartender delivers my drink right as Parker returns with his friend Nash. Nash is one of his childhood friends who moved away in elementary school, but his family recently moved back to the area a few months ago. He doesn't play sports, and he recently dropped out of college, and for those reasons, he's been labeled the town bad boy. It doesn't hurt that he looks the part with jet-black hair, ripped jeans, and the typical leather jacket, and don't even get me started on the man jewelry. I don't know what it is about a guy that wears rings, but I find it sexy as fuck.
His dark and stormy eyes find mine, and he gives me a nod before asking, "Want to get some air?"
I have a million reasons to say yes, but only one reason to say no. "Air sounds good."
" T hanks for giving me a ride home," I say as I hand Nash his helmet back. Illinois doesn't require riders to wear helmets, but I've ridden before, and without one, you'll spend hours trying to comb through your hair.
He revs the engine. "I'll give you a ride anytime, Salt." I don't miss the mischievous glint in his eye or the way his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip as he takes his helmet. When he's sure I caught his double meaning, he puts it on.
"Bye, Nash," I draw out with a smile. He revs the engine one more time before giving me a nod and taking off.
Nash is not as "bad boy" as his appearance suggests. When we got outside, we squatted on the curb, and he divulged the real reason he asked me outside. He was playing wingman for Parker. I knew Parker would be interested in Stormy, and because she didn't come outside looking for me, it's safe to say she's interested too.
I key in the code to get into the house, and it's dark. Too dark. I thought for sure Everett would get home before me. I quickly reset the alarm, hating how I suddenly find the dark unsettling. Getting home late is one thing, but not coming home altogether is another. I didn't drink nearly enough tonight to drown out my nerves, and I'm disappointed he's not here. I know he feels something for me, and after our moment this afternoon, I believed him when he said he'd be home to cook with me. I don't want to give up. Giving up has never felt like an option. How do you just walk away from something that you want with your whole heart? However, hurting sucks.
I blow out a long sigh as I drag my ass up the staircase to my room. I need water and maybe a hot bath to unwind. My nerves are shot. I know what I need. I need a release. Opening the door to my room, I immediately jump back, my heart racing from the sight of a figure sitting on my bed. But it's not all fear. I can smell him. The woodsy scent of the earth and the salt of the sea. My hand hits the switch.
"What are you doing in my room?"
He doesn't immediately give me his eyes. Instead, he focuses on the item in his hands—my phone. I intentionally left it home after I texted Parker to come pick me up. I know Everett can track me if I have it on me, and I wanted to send a message if he did come home. He wants me to fall in line and follow his rules, but all he's given me are empty words, so I left him with an empty house.
His eyes slowly drag up my bare legs before meeting mine. "You left."
"You didn't come home." I toss my clutch onto my drafting table. "And I was with Parker. I was perfectly safe so?—"
"That was not Parker who dropped you off."
I move away from the door and toward my dresser. "No shit. You can be very observant when you want to be."
"Cameron, if you can't tell, I'm not in the mood for your antics."
"Well, maybe I'm not in the mood for whatever whiplash you're about to give me," I snap back. "It's been a long day, Everett. I had to put in a rush order for the uniforms and come home to an empty house with a home invasion still very fresh in my mind. You want to sit in the dark and wait for me to come home so that you can list off all the rules I broke? Fine, be my guest." I throw my hands wide before dropping them to my hips and adding, "I'd rather be a rule breaker than a two-faced liar."
My chest is now heaving while he sits on my bed, unmoving, but I know I struck a nerve. His body language is a deceiver, just like the man. He's trained in the art of hiding his emotions. He's stuffed down his feelings his entire life, being the son of a DA turned senator, but the dark smolder in his coal-black eyes gives him away right before he stands.
"What did you call me?"
"I didn't stutter. I know you heard every last word, but I'll spell it out for you since I already know what part you're stuck on. You're a two-faced liar. You decree that I can not drive and that you will be my chauffeur, yet you assign the task to Parker after chastising me for catching one with him the other day. And as for the lying part… You told me you'd be here at six o'clock. You weren't here. I won't just sit around here alone and do nothing because you say so. I have needs, too."
I was so busy ensuring I articulated every word so I'd win, my mind dismissed how close he now stands.
"Needs?" he asks as I take a step back, not out of fear or want but because if I stand a chance of winning this argument, I need air. Air that doesn't smell like him and make me weak in the knees. Everett responds to facts. Give him anything less, and you've lost his attention. I don't plan on losing his attention on the first night he's ever visited my room. "Are you fucking the biker boy?" he sneers, stepping into my backstep.
"Are you really asking me that?"
Everett has never asked me a question that intrusive, let alone with that level of vehemence.
"Yes, Cameron, I am." He takes another step into my space, forcing me to take another back, except I've run out of room. My dresser is now at my back, and he smirks. "Last I checked, you still live under my roof, which makes you my responsibility, and that guy looks like a problem waiting to happen. I don't want to see him here again."
"You can't tell me who I can and can't see, Everett."
"I can, unless being sent away sounds more appealing. If you don't like the rules?—"
"So we're back at this… I didn't break any rules by getting a ride home. He didn't come into the house. You said I couldn't have guys in the house, and I didn't. I have needs, too, Everett. You can't?—"
"You keep mentioning needs, but you have yet to say what they are. What kind of needs do you have, Cameron?" he asks, caging me in and sending every nerve on high alert. He's so close. He's the kind of close I've dreamt about, and the malice in his voice doesn't match the desire I see in his eyes, but I know he's toying with me. This is revenge for me leaving my phone at home. He knows the effect he has on me, and he's playing me like a violin, killing me softly with his song. But if this is where I die, you better believe it will be epic.
Placing my hands on my dresser, I lift myself up for a seat to be at eye level before crossing my arms. "We both know exactly what kind of needs I'm talking about. You seem to want to take care of everything else…" I pause before looking him square in the eyes and adding, "How about those?"
He leans in, his eyes so dark I can't be sure if I'm back in bed waking from a dream in the dead of night or staring into the abyss I've sworn I'd sell my soul to countless times for just one taste. "Is that what you want?"
My mouth is suddenly parched as I dart my tongue out to moisten my lips and find my words as my heart races. Don't back down. Don't back down . "I want to come. If you can't make it happen, I'll find someone who can."
His stern glare stays glued to mine in challenge, and I can't tell if he's ready to fold or raise a bet. There's a slight tick in his jaw before he says, "Show me." I'm momentarily stunned into silence as I replay his words. Did he just say show me, or are the shot and three drinks I had at the bar earlier playing tricks on my mind? "You said you need to get this out of your system. You have my attention. So show me, or this ends now. I'm done with the games, Cameron."
"Show you what?" I stutter out on bated breath as my insides clench with anticipation.
His hand runs through the stubble on his chin as he takes a small step back. "You said you had needs. Show me how you like to be filled so we can be done with this."
"Right here? Right now?" I question coyly, and he smirks, mistaking my confirmation for trepidation, prematurely calling himself the victor. But just as he starts to turn, I draw up my legs, thankful I wore a mini skirt, and let them fall open. "I typically prefer a bed, but a dresser will do."
Those black velvet eyes latch onto mine, and they don't move as the rise and fall of his chest becomes more pronounced. He didn't think I'd do it. He didn't believe that this was what I really wanted. That I'd actually choose him. I can see the torment in his eyes. He doesn't want to want me, but it doesn't change that he does. I give him a minute to adjust to the reality of this moment. There are no more innuendos to hide behind. There's here and now, me and him, in a dark, empty house. When he doesn't move, I slowly trail my hand down my stomach so as not to pull him out of the moment. I don't want him to overthink this and turn away from me. I want him to succumb to the desire I know lurks behind his midnight glare.
When I reach the top of my panties, I slip my hand beneath the satin fabric, and he says, "Take them off." I was already wet, wholly enraptured by his presence, but those words stop me in my tracks. He's no longer just watching. He's instructing. He's telling me what he wants, and right now, that's me. I don't move fast enough, and the next thing I know, his finger barely skims my hip bone before I feel the pinch of my panties being ripped from my body as a whimper escapes my lips. I'm so turned on right now I could come from his stare alone. "Are you ready to get me out of your system so we can be done?"
"Done?"
His jaw clenches as his hands find his hips, and he drops his gaze. "Yes, Cameron. Done. Shove those fingers in your pretty little pussy. This is the only way you'll ever get filled with me in the room. You and I aren't happening."
"But you're here now…" I slide my finger down my slit and bite my lips when I feel my pussy clench on air, begging to be filled. "Show me yours."
"I'm not the one with something to get out of my system. You have five seconds to show me how you wanted biker boy to fill you, or I'm leaving."
Liar. There's no way in hell his honor and duty would allow him to stand here unless this was exactly where he wanted to be. So I don't push. Instead, I do exactly what he asked and push two fingers inside. The euphoric shiver that runs down my spine would have my legs falling out from under me if I weren't already sitting. My eyes threaten to flutter shut and remain that way. The feel of his eyes watching my every move as he stands mere inches away from my soaked pussy, one that he has to know is wet because of him, is utterly empowering and intoxicating. I'm not the girl he took in five years ago. I'm a woman who knows exactly what she wants. HIM.
Fuck. I can't help but close my eyes on the next pump as I shove in deeper. The sound of my arousal and the way my hardened nipples rub against the satin material of my camisole winning out over my desire to hold his tempestuous gaze, but I need more. If this is my first and last time, I need more.
"We both know it's not his fingers…" I add another digit, gliding two fingers down my center. "Or even his cock that I wanted filling me. It's yours."
His nostrils flare, and I know he wants to do exactly that. I don't care who I am to him. He's an unmarried man, and I'm sitting inches away from him with my legs spread, more than willing to let him have his way with me.
"I'm not going to touch you, Cameron, but I'll walk you through it." His eyes finally drop to my center, and I clench hard around my fingers, knowing he's finally seeing me. "If it was my cock filling you, stretching you and making your legs shake, you'd need to add a third finger, sunshine."
I bite my bottom lip so damn hard I'm sure I broke the skin. Everett just called me sunshine. A nickname is meaningful. It's a manifestation, a reflection of his emotions, what he's feeling deep down, and deep down, I now know part of him sees part of me through the same lens I see him. He's never called me anything but Cameron until now. I withdraw my fingers to add a third, and as hard as I try, I know there's no masking the slight tremble in my hand when I do. I like to think I have thick skin; not much can truly get to me except him. The shadows follow me, but I've learned to live with them. It's him who I see in my dreams. It's him that I can't stay away from; somewhere along the line, I let this man run away with all of me. He might break my heart, but I learned years ago that's what they were made for. The sound of my arousal greedily sucking my fingers in, wishing it were more, has a low moan escaping my throat.
"Fuck…" he growls out low and barely audible. "Spread these legs wider the way I would if I was slamming into you, reaching depths none of the want-to-be-men you've slept with have ever been able to touch."
They're already spread, but I push back on my heels and adjust my angle, giving him exactly what he wants, and watch as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. "More, Everett. Don't stop talking," I pant.
"My name breathlessly panted from those lips is the sweetest fucking sin. I don't want to hear its end, but I'm not a patient man, and bitter endings are all I deserve. Let's make this one hurt the worst. I want you to shove those fingers deep, sunshine. Imagine it is my length hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over, wringing out every last drop you didn't know you could give…" He trails off his voice, gruff and pained from what he still sees as the forbidden fruit, and my head lolls against the wall. I don't want to come. I'm not ready for this to be over any more than he is. Where does this leave us when it is over? Done? I'd rather stay here than find out. But when he says, "Circle your fingers over that little bundle of nerves that I want to suck into my mouth as you scream my name," I spiral hard.
"Ev…" I cry out as my legs shake from the most powerful orgasm I've ever had. My head lazily rolls side to side against the wall as I try to come back down. Blinking open my eyes, his molten gaze is closer than it was before I came. He's closer. His body is rigid, his arms tightly molded to his sides, and his fists are clenched so hard that his knuckles are white. "Everett, please," I softly plead.
"Don't," he grits out, his chest heaving as he tears his eyes away from mine and starts toward the door.
I watch him reject me again, steadfast in his convictions that we can't happen, but I refuse to let him go. I refuse to let him think we can't be more. "Everett…" He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, but he doesn't turn back. "It's not out of my system."
"It's only an affliction if you continue to want it… Let it go, Cameron."
The door to my room closes before I can utter another word, but it doesn't stop me from saying what's on my mind all the same. "Not all afflictions are evil." Sometimes, it's because they exist that we discover our disease. Fear is his—not mine.