Chapter 7 Savannah
SEVEN
SAVANNAH
Camden hisses through his teeth and turns away, though I don’t miss how he adjusts himself before he turns back and guides me through an open door down the hall.
I’ve heard about the dangers of going into dark spaces with strangers, especially older men, once or twice, but with Camden this close, there’s no chance I’ll follow the rules.
He is the perfect first mark.
Charming, gorgeous, wealthy. A catch in every sense. And totally unattainable. But I imagine women throw themselves at him all the time. That he’s the kind of man who will enjoy them for the night and then spit them out the next day.
He’s a lucky man tonight, though, because I swallow, and I intend to enjoy the hell out of him too.
I don’t even feel bad about using him as my first guinea pig. I’ll show him a good time, and then I’ll prove my point.
If you want a man like Camden Snow, you don’t play his game. You walk away.
There’s a pretty good chance he’ll let you, and then you’ll save yourself some heartbreak.
I guess that could be a part of this series of articles too. Tips for spotting the kind of men who aren’t looking for a real connection and how to avoid being ensnared. If, that is, you’re looking for an actual relationship. I’m not, so proving my point won’t be a hardship.
Tomorrow I’ll walk away from Camden Snow with my heart intact.
But tonight I’ll enjoy the hell out of this ride.
At the end of the hall, we’re met with another wall of windows, and the view nearly knocks me back. “Holy shit.”
Camden chuckles low in his throat. “It’s pretty nice, right?”
“Nice?” I scoff. “This might just be the best view in Boston.”
On the other side of the glass is Boston Harbor in all its glory. The moon glows low in the deep inky sky, giving the water a magical glistening, shimmering effect.
The house is loud, but as he leads me out through a sliding glass door and closes it behind him, silence descends.
“No, the view from my bedroom is absolutely better,” he promises.
Heart tripping, I turn back to him. I keep my expression schooled, only raising a brow.
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to show it to you.”
“You will,” I assure him as I walk to the edge of the stone patio.
To my right is a hot tub. The lid is pulled back and the water is bubbling.
I almost laugh at how fucking sexy this place is, and that’s not even considering the man who owns it.
It’s a quintessential bachelor pad, and I’m sure he does very well in that department.
A woman would merely need to see this place to drop her panties.
I lean against the stone wall that separates the property from the harbor and breathe in the cold, salty New England air.
I’ll never get enough of the seasons. Being from Las Vegas, the cold of my first winter here was a shock.
But the fall season had already enchanted me, and I was in love with the place, so there was no going back.
It took some time to adjust, but now, in my opinion, there’s nothing as magical as a wintry night in Boston.
This already incredible view would only be enhanced if there was snow falling around us.
Almost makes me wish I was going to be around to see it.
But all we get is tonight. It’s all anyone gets with me.
With that reminder, I spin and face Camden. He’s already watching me, and the intensity in his expression causes my throat to go dry.
“So what do you do, Savannah?” Camden murmurs.
“I work for Jolie.”
His eyes light up. “My buddy’s wife just took over as creative director.”
“Yeah, Sienna. She’s actually the one who gave me this dress.” I hold one arm out. “She told me to watch out for you too.”
He chuckles. “She’s right. You should.”
“Don’t worry about me, Camden Snow. I’m not na?ve.”
“Oh yeah? So what is it you know about me?”
I step closer. Mostly because I’m starting to get really freaking cold, but also because I’ve found myself trapped in his gravitational field, and at the moment, I don’t even want to fight the pull. “I know you used to play for the Bolts.”
He nods.
“Were you any good?”
His brows jump, practically hitting his hairline. “So you really don’t know anything about me.”
“That good, huh?”
With a low huff of a laugh, he grips my waist and pulls me against him. “I was a fucking god on the ice.”
I tip my head back and lick my lips. “Bet you’re a god in the bedroom too.”
He shakes his head, but there’s no hiding his cocky smile. “You seem awfully interested in my bedroom.”
“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants.”
“And what is it you want, Savannah?” His voice is low, the gravel in his tone making me clench in delight.
“A fantastic orgasm. Something I’m sure you could provide.”
His eyes dance. “Maybe. But first I want to know more about you.”
I roll my teeth over my bottom lip. “I like to be on top.”
He squeezes my waist again, his hands higher than I’d like. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. I have fantastic tits. They’ll look incredible when I’m riding you.”
His eyes don’t even drop to said fantastic tits. They just hold mine. “Tell me something real.”
His voice is soft, earnest. It makes me want to spill my every thought.
I absolutely despise the urge. Real is depressing.
At least my real is. I live in an attic-turned-studio-apartment, yet I still live paycheck to paycheck.
And I was never wanted. By either of my parents.
I have no family and no savings. And outside of some incredible friends, no one really cares that I exist.
He couldn’t handle my truths. They aren’t sexy. A man who lives in a place like this, who has had the career he’s had and looks like he does, would never understand a girl like me.
I lift my chin. “Real is overrated.”
“I disagree.”
Sighing, I deflate a little. “Our versions of real are very different. You have a gorgeous home and a wonderful career to look back on. My life isn’t nearly as pretty. But if you want me to spill so badly, why don’t you go first? What’s your deepest secret, Camden Snow?”
He holds my gaze, those sharp blue eyes seemingly looking right into my soul. Seeing all my thoughts, all my insecurities.
Then, with a deep swallow, he replies. “I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me enough to stay.”
My heart stutters, and before I can regain control of myself, I murmur, “I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me, period.”
He cups my cheek. “That’s ridiculous.”
Swallowing back the self-pity threatening to escape from the cage I’ve trapped it in, I shrug. “I know.”
“I think you’d be incredibly easy to love,” he rasps. The heat of his rough hands soaks into my cheeks, soothing me.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I blink, and when I open my eyes, I find his mouth a mere centimeter from mine.
“You’d definitely make it easy to want to stay,” I say, my lips brushing his.
Eyes fluttering shut, he breathes me in. “Fuck, I want to kiss you, but I also want to take this slow.”
I push up on my toes, slanting my mouth against his. “Why?”
“Because,” he says, those lips still caressing mine, “I’m the type of guy you need to get to know to love.”
Without pulling back, I laugh. “And you want me to love you?”
He nods. “I think I do.”
“Smooth, Camden Snow, you are so very smooth.”
Then because he hasn’t done it yet, I lick at his lips, taking my own taste.
Groaning, he clutches my hip with one hand. He uses the other to angle my jaw, holding my mouth in place. “What else? Tell me something else about you.”
“That’s not how you date.” Since he’s forced my mouth from his, I use the momentary reprieve to suck in a breath and get my head on straight. I’m supposed to be proving a point tonight, not falling for an unavailable man.
I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me enough to stay.
His words play on repeat in my head. Why is it always the broken ones who make me want to try?
I’m broken enough for the both of us. I don’t need a man to put back together.
“Like I said, I’ve never dated, so I guess I’m a bit inexperienced.” His blue eyes are full of heat. “You can teach me, though.”
“You didn’t say you didn’t date; you said no one has stayed.”
He shrugs. “Same thing, really.”
“No. If you don’t give people the opportunity to know you—which is the point of dating, by the way—then you can’t fault them for leaving.”
“You’re right. And I have no idea why we’re even talking about this. I promised I’d show you the surprise. Let’s do that.” He steps back, and the loss of his body heat hits me almost as violently as his emotional retreat.
Why does that bother me? Why do I care at all. Before I can regain control of my emotions, I’m hit with a bolt of pain straight in the chest.
Fortunately, Camden has already turned away, obviously determined to get inside, so he doesn’t notice my reaction.
In the warm hallway once more, he slides the glass door shut. Then he guides me down the hall toward what I assume is the basement.
As we pass the kitchen, I spot the girls, who are snacking, and wave.
Josie smirks, her chin lifted and her eyes full of glee. Addie’s mouth falls open in shock.
“Show’s about to start,” Camden says to the room full of hockey players and women who are probably here in hopes of bagging one of them, at least for the night.
I still haven’t seen Sienna, which is probably good. I don’t think I could flirt so openly with my boss in the vicinity.
A group of guys passes us and heads down the stairs. When the area clears, I survey my friends again. They seem far more interested in the cheese platter than the surprise on the floor below.
We are not the same. I love cheese like the next girl, sure, but like they say, curiosity killed the cat, and I am so damn curious. How egregious could a show be for this man to warn a group of grown women off?
He peers down at me. “Still with me?”
I smirk. “All night.”
With a hand at my back again, he presses his lips to my neck. “You keep teasing me, I’m going to collect.”
I lean back against his chest. “Good.”
Groaning, he pushes me forward.
As we descend the steps, the music gets louder, but the lighting dims. When my feet hit the bottom step, I pause and take in the space, working hard not to show my reaction.
The basement has been turned into an apparent speakeasy.
Women wearing diamond thongs with their breasts completely exposed spin around on poles set up throughout the room.
The poles are bolted to the floor and ceiling.
They’re permanent. Not props for the night.
A half-naked woman sits at the piano in the corner, playing, while another lies on top of it, singing a raspy melody.
“You still good?” Camden says into my ear, his warm breath sending a shudder through me. He steps up close and wraps an arm around my waist. Maybe he can sense how unsteady I suddenly feel and he’s worried I’m going down. Even so, I lean into him, appreciating the move.
“This is—” I can’t even find the words. Incredible. Hot. Fucking incredibly hot.
“Too much?” He presses his lips to the sensitive spot below my ear.
A deep moan rolls out of me without my permission. “No.” I met this man half an hour ago, and already I’m ready for my first orgasm. What the hell is happening?
“Good, let’s find a seat so you don’t miss the show.”
I squeeze my thighs together, unsure of what the hell to expect, and nod.
Camden slips his palm into mine and then squeezes my fingers gently, giving me a thoughtful look. The moment is so surprisingly sweet that I forget for a second that he’s basically turned his basement into a sex club.
This isn’t romantic, Savannah. He’s the definition of a playboy.
With those thoughts cemented in my brain, I ignore the butterflies flapping in my chest and allow Camden to guide me deeper into the room.
He stops at an open love seat, and as I turn, ready to ease down onto the cushion, he grasps my arm.
He holds me there as he sits, then he pulls me onto his lap and loops an arm around my waist, settling his palm on my bare thigh.
“What do you want to drink?” He holds up a hand to summon one of the servers.
“Um, I’ll take a vodka soda.” I wiggle forward. “Also, my own seat.”
Chuckling, he tightens his hold. “I won’t be able to hear you if you aren’t right here, and I told you, I intend to learn everything I can about you tonight.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns to the server and orders our drinks.
I take the opportunity to study him. He’s painfully good-looking, and the command he has over himself, the confidence, like he’s used to getting exactly what he wants, is really doing it for me. Every person he encounters smiles at him genuinely. That’s another thing I like. He’s well liked.
I shake off the thoughts. He’s obviously a good time, and since I’m only going to spend the evening with him, that’s all that should really matter to me.
I lean in close to his mouth and whisper, “Why talk when we can do other things?”
“You’re making this so fucking hard,” he breathes, the warmth of his body engulfing me.
“I’m trying to make you hard.” I wiggle on top of him. “How am I doing?”
He tilts his head against mine and groans. “I’ve been a steel rod since I first saw your ass. You just have to exist and I’ll be hard.”
A thrill zips down my spine. I like that. Probably more than I should. Especially when I realize that though the tits of the woman now delivering our drinks are in our faces, his eyes haven’t left mine.
Not wanting to be rude, I take my drink and thank her. Cam only grunts as he accepts his. He sets it on the table beside him, finally looking away. But a heartbeat later, his attention is back on me.
“I’m going to be honest,” he says, voice low, hand cupping my cheek. “I like you and I want more.”
I ignore the hope that unravels inside me at his words. It’s something I’ve never had, and I won’t start believing that can change now. “I intend to give you plenty more too.”
He sighs like my avoidance is frustrating. Then he nods. “Okay, baby girl. Show’s about to start, relax.” He shifts and leans back against the couch, pulling away. The move is subtle, but it’s enough to tell me that I’ve fucked up.
I’m annoyed. With myself. With him. But mostly with the possibilities forming in my mind. The ones trying to tempt me into hoping for more rather than focusing on the here and now.
So I do what he says.
I guess I’m a better listener than I thought. Or maybe he’s just a better daddy than mine ever was.