Chapter 22 #2
“Hell, yes.” He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and tosses me onto the bed.
“You should rough me up with your stubble.” My skin tingles at the mere thought of him going down on me.
“Oh, cutie,” he begins, pulling his T-shirt over his head.
“You might not be prepared for what I’m about to do to you.
” The bed shifts as he climbs on, motioning for me to get comfortable.
He positions my thighs where he wants them, pushing them wide so he’s got room to explore.
I rest on my forearms, a silent observer, pondering how long he’ll drag out the torture.
My belly flips with anticipation. Two weeks without his touch was too long. “Mind if I start with these lips?”
“Nope.” He raises a brow, questioning me. “‘Nope’ I don’t mind if you start with those lips. I’m very much looking forward to feeling your tongue and mouth on me.”
His head shakes, a low “tsk, tsk” emanating from his lips. “Ravenous, are you?”
“For you? Always.” I don’t think I’ll ever tire of having this man touch me, no matter where and with which of his body parts.
On his knees, he crawls into place before resting on his calves as his gaze devours me. His abs and torso are on full display, but his khaki cargo shorts conceal his cock.
“Seems hardly fair I’m completely bared to you and you’re hiding away the goods.”
“For good reason, Jude. For good reason.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “Dessert before dinner is becoming a favorite of mine.”
The words hardly out of his mouth, he leans in to trail his tongue along the inside of my left calf. It’s the softest touch of his tongue, yet electricity pulses everywhere. And when he rubs his jaw along it, I’m a goner.
I fall back against the bed, my eyes closing, reveling in the way his touch feels.
The way the stubble scrapes my thigh. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.
He doesn’t spend a lot of time on the left thigh before he treats the right to the same attention.
Licking and rubbing, two sensations high on my list of preferences.
“Yessssss.” I draw out the word, egging him on. Hoping he never stops, yet wanting him to move to my core.
No, needing him at my core.
As if he read my mind, his tongue snakes up my seam in one long lick.
“So good, Cameron. So. Good.” My teeth nibble the inside of my cheek. It feels too much, but I won’t stop him.
Too much of something isn’t always a bad thing.
My torso thrashes on the bed as his tongue works me over, kissing my most sensitive area, sucking my clit into his mouth, drawing moans out of me like it’s his job. The man never misses, and wetness leaks from my opening.
My fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling gently at first, but soon harder as my orgasm builds.
Cameron adds a finger to the mix, pushing inside as he laps up what spills out. His stubble tickles to the pinnacle of pleasure. I smile, knowing he’s leaving his mark. Why it’s so sexy is beyond me.
Probably because of him. We’ve always shared a connection, and it’s strengthened over the days we’ve spent together.
My orgasm takes hold, and Cameron sucks my clit, letting it go with a pop. That’s when I stagger over the edge, ecstasy taking me under its wing, a current of emotions surging through me as his mouth’s assault endures.
I ride it out, hissing, moaning, basking in the sensations filling me.
I’ve never experienced a high this strong. Not on my own. Not with anyone else.
While I come down, Cameron continues to kiss me. Slower, softer, lighter touches until he’s dragging his tongue up my torso, stopping before his mouth touches mine.
“Good start to the night.” My words are breathy, my eyes still sealed at the power racing through my veins.
“Only good?”
“Great,” I amend.
He shuffles to lie down next to me, the noise resounding in the room, and I quickly lay my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
Lying like this won’t ever get old. Same as being in bed naked with him.
We picked up where we left off, as if the past two weeks had never happened.
As if we weren’t miserable without each other.
Which says a lot about our connection right off the bat.
“We should talk.”
His words stall my fingers trailing up and down his chest. “Now? In bed? When I’m naked? That seems like a recipe for disaster.”
Right? Because “we should talk” is only ever followed by some sort of uneasy, and most often, difficult discussion between the two parties.
Reluctantly raising my head, I crane my neck so I don’t miss any nonverbal cues he gives away. His elbows splay behind his head, but his expression gives nothing away.
“On the balcony. We’ll order food to be delivered and bring out the coffee table so we have somewhere to set the food. Throw on some clothes.” He punctuates his statement with a head nod. “Oh, and magic up some condoms, would ya?”
“‘Magic up some condoms’? What does that mean?”
“Make them appear like last time. I’m not in the mood to go out and get some, but no way am I not taking you tonight.”
“I’m on the pill.” I can’t decide whether I should have said that aloud. An array of emotions dances across his face, ending on one akin to worry.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So we’re protected that way.” I leave the rest unsaid. I haven’t been with anyone but him in months. Not sure he can say the same.
“Not sure that would be the end of the world . . .” he mumbles almost incoherently.
“Not the end of the world, but definitely world-shattering.” I haven’t stopped to consider an unwanted pregnancy in my life. When I was younger, I thought I’d be married with kids by thirty-two. Since I’m not, I’d want kids sooner rather than later when I meet the man I’m going to marry.
In no way am I prepared for this conversation in the slightest. Squashing these thoughts, I shimmy off him, out of bed, and over to my bag of clothes.
“How long are you staying?”
“Room’s booked for four nights.”
“That’s all?” Shock underscores his tone. “That throws a wrench into my plans.” His tone is sincere, as if he has plans for us. Elation blossoms in my chest at the thought. I have plans for us, too. We’re definitely on the same page.
“I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal to extend the stay . . .”
He answers before I’m done speaking. “Yes. Whatever we have to do. Don’t leave again.” Desperation replaces the concern. He adds, “This is why we need to talk.”
I don’t bother with undergarments. They’ll be in the way later. I pull on a T-shirt and sleep shorts and fix my messy knot. Now it’s just untidy. “What do you want to eat?”
“I was hoping you’d say burgers and steak fries. Maybe brownies for dessert.”
A moan echoes around the room. My moan. “I’ve been thinking about those brownies the whole time I was gone. The chocolate chips are the best added touch. Maybe you can hook me up with meeting the baker with your connections and all.”
“Top of my list, cutie. Top of my list,” he deadpans with a smug smile.
“I need coffee, too. Energy for later. How do I make those delicious ones we had on the beach appear?”
“DoorDash. Mariana’s Café.” He checks his watch. “Hurry, though. They aren’t open much longer.”
“You do coffee. Make mine a large. I’ll do dinner and condoms.”
“Your bossiness is a turn-on, Juliana.”
“My name from your lips is the same.” But because we have things to do, I hurry from the bedroom into the living area, looking for the resort phone to order dinner.
Ten minutes later, we’re settled on the balcony, waiting for our orders. He placed the coffee order in the nick of time. And since it’s between mealtimes, our dinner won’t be that long. As for the condoms, those might be a while. Good thing we have other things to occupy ourselves.
Cameron maneuvered the coffee table out the slider. The balcony isn’t meant to accommodate a table this large, but he made it work for today. Our chairs sit across from each other. The September sun blazes in the sky, and humidity stifles around us. Yet, being out here with Cameron is enjoyable.
“Should we wait for dinner before we dive into our conversation?”
“Nope. What’s up?” It sounds so casual, but this discussion will be anything but.
He licks his lips, rubbing his hands together, as if he has this all planned out. “Let’s start with the obvious. Why are you here?”
I don’t mince words. “To see you. To pick up where we left off. Was that not obvious?”
He’s skeptical at first, his brows scrunching. “Can you elaborate on the whole ‘to pick up where we left off’? As I already told you, this wasn’t casual for me, and I’m not prepared to do more of the same casual with you.” He almost chokes on the word casual the second time.
The sentiment warms my heart. When he said it before, I was too shocked at seeing him to process it all. Reiterating it now makes it all the more real.
“I don’t want casual with you either.” I have more I want to say, but the words don’t come immediately. I’m not sure exactly how to ask the questions I want answered. Especially because if he gives me any other answer than the one I want, I’m going to be disappointed.
On the flight and car ride to the resort, I spent a lot of time thinking about how a relationship between Cameron and me could work.
In the short-term, we can do long-distance.
It’s not ideal, but it’s one thousand times better than not having him in my life.
The two weeks without him were misery. Of course, it would be a little different because there’d be an agreement of what we are to each other, a label, one much better than friends.
I didn’t let my mind wander much past the short-term. Like weeks ago during our fling, I’ll take it one day at a time, as long as each day is with Cameron, I’ll be a lucky girl.
Before I can elaborate, his watch pings. Glancing at it, he states, “Coffee’s here. Be right back.” He hops out of his chair and brushes his lips across my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”