Page 71 of What Should Have Been Ours

He carries me straight into the bedroom, dropping me onto the bed beneath him. His hands roam, explore, and memorize every inch of exposed skin like it’s territory he knows but wants to relearn again.

With his hand firmly around the side of my neck, he kisses me like he’s been starving for this. And maybe he has. I know I have.

His lips move down my neck, teeth nipping just enough to make me shudder. Then his hands move to grip my thighs as he comes back up to kiss me.

I smirk against his lips. “Do you remember our last time, Cam?”

Cam gives me a low, rough laugh, his lips brushing the back of my neck as his hands start slipping beneath my lingerie. “Gabrielle,” he murmurs. “I’ve thought about the last time I had you for the last twelve years more times than I’d like to admit. But this will be nothing like last time.”

I arch against him, teasing, “Oh yeah?”

He grins against my skin. “Yeah, Gabrielle. I was sixteen. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, just that I wanted everything with you.” He shifts, pressing himself against me, making my breath hitch. “But trust me when I say I know exactly what I want to do now.”

I melt.

I am putty in this man’s arms.

Every single place his hands touch feels like it’s being set on fire. Like he’s branding me with every slow, deliberate movement of his fingers.

He moves with intention—teasing, tormenting, unraveling me. He’s in no rush, and that might be the most torturous part.

His lips trace a path back down my neck, lingering just beneath my jawline before trailing lower. My back arches instinctively, chasing the warmth of his mouth, but he only chuckles—low and dark—before gripping my hips, holding me still.

“Patience, Gab,” he murmurs against my skin. “No rushing this.”

I whimper. Actually whimper.

And Cam looks entirely too pleased with himself.

He watches me carefully, drinking in every little reaction, every soft gasp, every shiver he pulls from me.

“I’ve dreamed about this a lot,” he confesses against my skin.

I squeeze my eyes shut, barely holding on to reality right now. “Cam…”

He hums in an answer, his lips moving lower, his hands tightening around my hips. “I need you to know, Gabrielle,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “No one else has ever made me feel the way you do. No one else has ever been able to unravel me the way you do.”

His words do something very dangerous to the deepest part of my heart.

He finally gives in, and I completely fall apart under his touch.

* * *

Cam smirks down at me, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my back. “Nothing has ever lived up to my memories of you, Gabrielle.” He tilts his head, brushing a kiss against my forehead, his lips still curved into a dazed smirk. “It’s actually insane what I’ve always felt for you. It’s like you did witchcraft on me when we were kids to make me so obsessed with you.”

I laugh, but my heart also clenches at the honesty in his voice.

His fingers skim my waist, his lips brushing against my temple. “You’re all I ever want,” he murmurs. “I could die a happy man after that.”

I smack his chest. “You aren’t dying anytime soon, so there’s plenty more.”

He grins, rolling onto his back, pulling me on top of him. “Oh yeah?”

I raise a challenging brow. “Yeah.”

His smirk turns devilish. “I mean, if you’re offering, I can go again.”

I laugh, swatting his chest. “Okay, relax. I worked up too much of an appetite. I think I need to eat first.”