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How can someone like him even exist?
He fills the glass from the fridge and hands it to me, grabbing my free hand and walking backward toward a closed door.
“I love you being here, in my place.” He bites his lip. “Do you have to leave?”
How did I even end up here in the first place? I think he hypnotized me and convinced me to put all of my guards down for him. There is no other logical answer for the way I feel for him. It’s overwhelming.
“I have to,” I say as he opens the door to his bedroom. “You know that.”
He smirks. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try to convince you to stay.” He closes it behind us.
“Hmm.” I roll my eyes. “And how do you plan on doing that?” I drop my purse to the ground by the door.
He releases my hand and pulls his sweatshirt over his head, taking the shirt with it. “I can’t tell you my secrets. You’ll have to wait and find out for yourself.”
“Hmm,” I hum, at a loss for words. “Okay. Good luck.”
He throws his clothes on the ground and grabs the TV remote, turning the TV on. “I don’t need luck.”
“You’re pretty cocky for someone who hasn’t even truly touched me yet,” I say, snarky.
He’s in front of me in the blink of an eye, towering over me. He steps toward me and pushes me back until I’m leaning against his closed door with his arms caging my head in.
“You think I haven’t wanted to?” He leans down and breathes me in. “It’s all I think about. I dream of it every night—what you will feel like when I fill you with my cock, what your moans will sound like when you’re begging for more. Touching you is all I have wanted to do, Little Dove.”
My breaths are panting in and out as his face is inches near mine. “Me too.”
He smirks and brushes his lips against my cheek. “Me too what? What do you think about?”
Fucking hell.
“Say it,” he orders.
Huffing, I whisper, “I think about what your tongue will feel like between my legs. I think about what your kinks are and if I would like them too. I think about what it’s going to be like the first time we fuck because—let’s face it—you’re huge and it’s probably going to hurt.”
He moans, and the vibrations tickle my cheek. “Fuck.”
The fingers of his right hand trail down my stomach and hook under the bottom of the sweatshirt, lifting slowly. His callous fingertips graze my soft skin as he lifts it higher and higher until my bra is exposed. He pulls it up and over my head until my arms are stretched up above me. He doesn’t take it off the rest of the way. Instead, he clasps my wrists in his hand and holds me there.
A deep and sexy chuckle leaves his lips. His hooded eyes explore me. “You are so beautiful.”
His free hand reaches out and trails across my skin, and I can tell without looking that it’s over one of my scars. He does it again to a different one. And another.
How can the touch of his fingertip feel so good?
He hooks his finger under my bralette. His darkened stare meets my eyes as he lifts it up, and my breasts bounce free.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans and cups my left breast in his hand, kneading it.
His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I gasp at the unexpected jolt of pleasure. My eyes flutter open and shut as he continues to flick my nipple over and over.
His forehead presses into mine, and the heavy breaths from our desperate need mix together.
“Tell me,” Cam groans into my mouth. “Tell me you’re mine.”
When I hesitate, he pinches my nipple between his fingers.
“Cam.”
