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They’re both breathing heavily when they resume their previous arrangement from the lift. Cameron’s body presses Jules back against the door, heat up and down her front and the obvious hardness of Cameron against her hipbone.
She exhales shakily. She’s doing this. They’re doing this. She’s about to have sex with the man she’s been lusting after for months and it’s not happening in her head this time.
Little ant-feet pinpricks play across her neck as Cameron’s hands frame her face and he leans in slowly, eye contact unbreaking, giving her the time to freak out again like she did a half-dozen times in the lift for silly, nervous reasons.
She’s not going to give herself the chance this time.
She fists her hands into his shirt and closes the distance between them, finally fitting her lips to his.
Fire. That’s the word that rises like smoke signals from flame when their lips meet. Holy hell. Cameron kisses her like he needs it, slow but deep. Jules whimpers into his mouth and curves her body closer, tasting wine on his tongue when it darts into her mouth. She’s burning up, clenching her legs together.
Cameron’s hands skim down her sides then pull their hips together, his hardness pressing where she needs it. Jules’s head drops back and Cameron’s lips are on her neck, kissing and sucking on her pulse point. She lifts a hand to hold his head in place so he’ll continue paying attention to this newly discovered erogenous zone.
Her other hand slips under his shirt so she can feel that deliciously heated skin, the abs she got a sneak-peek of earlier today. She thinks she swears but the fog of lust is quickly crowding out sense. She’s panting like she’s run up ten flights of stairs.
Cameron leans back to tug his shirt off before moving back in to kiss her. Hard. His hands move around to her back, spinning her around and walking them further into the room.
Jules stumbles over Cameron’s discarded shirt and can’t make her limbs respond quickly enough to save her from falling onto her ass. It knocks aside some of the lust-fog.
‘Wait, wait. Can we—Holy shit.’ She swallows roughly, crab walking backwards away from the discarded shirt while staring up at Cameron. His abs are a work of art. What will they feel like beneath her tongue? God, she might combust. She’s already aflame, molten lava in her belly, down lower, at her fingertips. ‘Can we clarify what’s going to happen?’
‘I’m going to get you naked,’ he says, low and steady like the sexiest documentary narrator of all time. ‘And then I’m going to make you come. And then I’m going to push inside you so slowly that you’ll feel every inch.’
Jules’s gaze drops down to the bulge in Cameron’s pants. Every inch?
She clears her dry throat. ‘I meant, how are we defining fling? What are the parameters?’ Why are you asking these meaningless questions? Ah. There’s Tori’s voice.
‘Well,’ Cameron steps towards her, muscles moving in hypnotic action. ‘What if—’
‘Stop.’ Jules throws her hands out and Cameron freezes. ‘Sorry. I can’t think straight when you’re shirtless and stalking toward me.’
Cameron laughs, gravelly and low, with a smile like he knows hearing it makes Jules quiver. ‘I told you to not think so much.’
‘If we get this sorted, I promise to stop thinking so much.’ Jules places a hand over her speeding heart.
‘Alright.’
‘Thank you.’ She breathes deeply, trying to be polite and focus on his face and not his torso. ‘So. Fling. Only while we’re at the conference?’
‘Agreed. This ends before we get back to the office.’
‘And, um …’ Her focus drops to his abs. Lower.
Cameron’s lips quirk. ‘Anything else?’
‘Uh.’ Shit. Her brain is melting. ‘Are you—Have you gotten tested recently?’
‘Yes. I’m all good. You?’
She bobs her head up and down. ‘And, um … what about …?’ Questions spring to mind like ‘why?’ and ‘how?’ and ‘really?’, but Tori’s voice reappears, telling her not to make this into a big deal.
Cameron props his hands on his hips. ‘Are you stalling?’
‘Maybe?’
It’s been three years since she had sex, not counting the fling. What if she’s as rusty at it as she is at flirting?
‘Jules.’ He says it soft. No judgement, but with a suggestion of, what, understanding?
