Though his feet didn’t bring him closer, just rising to her level made him feel that much more surrounded by her. His fingers itched with the need to touch her, to test the soft warmth of her skin or the silky slide of her hair against his palm.
“I’m glad you guys worked things out,” he said. His accompanying smile was stiff, but he thought she’d forgive him for that, all things considered.
“Me too.” She cocked her head, her warm gaze flickering over his face as though searching for something. She hesitated. Her posture remained the same, but there was a new tension to the line of her shoulders that hadn’t been there a second ago. Finally, she asked, “Can we?”
Given the context, it was obvious what she was asking, but his brain still refused to process it. He blinked. “Can we what?”
She deflated a little at his question, glanced away and reflexively licked her lower lip. “Work things out.” He opened his mouth, but she rushed to explain. “I know, I know, you’re a big fat liar. And that sucks, but you feel bad about it, and you’re not going to do it again, right?” She paused, and all he could do was shake his head dumbly. “Good. So we could make it work, maybe? I mean, I have some perfectly legitimate trust issues to work through, but nobody’s perfect. We could even do it properly, this time.” The longer she talked, the faster she spoke, like her nerves were gaining traction, picking up speed runaway train-style. “Go on a date. Hold hands or something.”
“You wanna hold hands with me?” As he repeated her words, an unstoppable grin spread wide across his lips, and, when she noticed, a faint pink stained her cheeks.
“Well. We’ll have to see. I’m not a harlot, Des. I don’t just go holding hands with any man with pretty eyes and a duffle full of sex toys.” She wet her lower lip again, and this time the motion drew his attention in a baser way that made him want to lick her lip himself. He started to lean in, not entirely on purpose. “I only hold hands with men I love.”
That stopped him dead. All thoughts of kisses were halted with his heart, which had gone worryingly still.
She seemed to let go of the tension clinging to her as she took in his stillness. Her lips quirked as though she were fighting a smile. She cocked her head. “Can I kiss you?”
He took a long, slow breath in, both to give her the chance to change her mind, and to steady himself, because her question had left him curiously weak-kneed. “Do you promise to be gentle?”
The smile she’d been stifling broke free. It was the happiest, most genuine smile he’d seen on her in weeks. In lieu of answering, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his head to pull him toward her. She kissed him hard. There was no shyness in it, no hesitation as she pushed his lips apart and delved her tongue into his mouth. He nearly stumbled back with the force of it, his hands coming up to her waist and holding her close against him. Her body slotted perfectly against his, warm and insistent, and when she finally broke the kiss, she did it with a tantalizing draw of her tongue over the roof of his mouth.
“Gentle?” She rested her forehead against his, fixing her eyes on his. Her lips glistened with their kiss as she smiled again. “Not a chance.”
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
As she slid the drawer closed with her hip, Cami allowed herself the indulgence of watching Des. He stretched his arms above his head to slide a box markedKitchento the top of the fridge. The hem of his shirt rode up, revealing a tempting glimpse of warm, dark skin and a dusting of black hair at his abdomen. She leaned back against the console table they’d picked up at a garage sale and folded her arms across her ribcage. When Des dropped his arms, he glanced over at her with an easy smile.
“You ready to call it quits for today?”
She nodded. “I think I’ve done all the unpacking I can stomach for now.” Her back was sore from hunching over cardboard boxes all afternoon and she was eager to settle into the sofa Lenny had let her keep. Eager to put on Netflix and order a pizza. He spread his arms and she crossed the hall into the kitchen to lean back against his chest. The warmth of his body seeped into her. He smelled like coffee and Pinesol—he’d been in her new apartment early that morning scrubbing down the kitchen while she finished loading boxes into the pick up truck they’d borrowed from his dad for the move.
“Moving is hard work.” He settled his hands on her shoulder blades and started to rub in gentle circles. She rolled her eyes. He thought he was so smooth, but she knew exactly what he was going to— “It’s too bad you’ll have to do it all again so soon.”
“Not that soon,” she countered. She slipped out of his arms to make her way to the living room. “I told you, I’m not moving in with you for at least a year.”
He followed after her. “I know, I know. You’re a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She flopped onto the couch and scooped her phone up off the coffee table she’d also pilfered from Lenny.
Her new apartment was close to her school and affordable enough that she could rent it with only her freelance work and some funds Lenny had begun funneling her way that she got from the VA. It was a one bedroom, as opposed to a studio, so Cami had needed to get some furniture of her own to make it more comfortable. Lenny had offered her her pick of anything above the shop, since Sex on the Beach had gone fully online last week and the plaza itself was likely to be levelled and redevelopment started within the next few months.
Des had made a case for her moving right in with him, and while there were pros with that option—a beautiful home, nominal rent, a delightful woman who cleaned up after you, Des himself—Cami felt strongly that she needed a place that she picked out. One that she paid for on her own, with her own credit rating, and the money she earned (or was entitled to as the child of a deceased veteran). One she could decorate as she saw fit, where she could retreat once in a while as she and Des found their rhythm as a couple.
Once she graduated, they could discuss living together. One milestone at a time.
Des sank onto the other end of the sofa, lifting her feet onto his lap and idly cupping one hand around the arch of one. His own phone materialized in his hand and he swiped past the lock screen with his thumb. “Do you want me to order the pizza?”
“Sure.” She laid her phone back on the coffee table, having only dismissed a couple of boring email notifications, and turned her attention to studying Des’s profile.
He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and an appealing scruff smeared across his cheeks and jawline. It was extremely inconvenient for him to be so attractive regardless of the state of his face. When he was clean-shaven, he looked like a GQ model. When he wasn’t, he looked like a scruffier GQ model.
That was why she had whisker burn on her thighs.
He lifted his hand from her foot so that he could have both thumbs to tap with. Cami slid her toes gently along the inside of his thigh, following the inseam of his jeans. His thumbs paused mid-tap for just a moment and his eyes flickered sideways at her before he resumed their order. She pushed up onto her elbows and nudged at his crotch. The denim of his jeans started to tighten across his lap, and she smothered a smirk. A glance at his phone screen confirmed he was adding mushrooms to her side of their pizza.
In the three months since the scene they’d made in the hospital courtyard, their sex life had gotten even more mind-blowing than it had been. It turned out that regular orgasms just took a little practice once you found the right buttons to push.
