Page 61 of Sand in My Boots

I’ve been awake a good fifteen minutes, convincing myself I don’t have to pee, wrapping my mind around how to say goodbye to Cameron without it being drawn-out, and more importantly, awkward.

What’s the best way to part ways? Thanks for the orgasms. Let’s do it again in, say, fifteen years?

Hardly.

My heart isn’t supposed to want Cameron. It’s supposed to understand this is casual, a fleeting scratch to an itch, closure for a childhood crush. Yet, it’s been anything but that.

Reluctantly, I escape from the safe confines of Cameron’s arms. I didn’t think he was awake, but his grip tightens. “It’s not time to leave the bed yet,” he croaks in a sleep-laden voice.

“It is to pee.”

His arms loosen with no further explanation, and I hop down to take care of business. The light from the living room peeks under the closed bedroom door, the glow from the smallest of the bathroom lights illuminating my way. He eventually acquiesced to my need for a night-light, grumbling he could only sleep in utter darkness, yet every night, he’s been out.

The shower calls my name, but we have no more clean towels, so that will have to wait until I can grab some more after breakfast.

In the mirror, I take stock of my appearance. My hair hangs dully, the waves for the wedding all but fallen out. I missed a few spots when I wiped off my makeup. But my eyes are what I focus on most. Apprehension and indulgence vie for victory. Time will tell which becomes the victor.

Back in the bedroom, Cameron’s head is propped up on one elbow, his eyes tracking my every movement. His hair is mussed from sleep, his eyes tired. “That took a while. Everything working okay?”

A soft chuckle barrels out, my ears not prepared for such loudness this early in the day. “All good. We need clean towels.” I drink in the sight of his bare chest, tamping down thoughts of missing this view after tomorrow.

“You need clean towels.” He pats the bed next to him. It beckons like a warning.

“My vagina needs a break.” Words I never thought I’d say. Especially to Cameron of all people.

He falls back against the pillows. “Oh, thank fuck. I thought it was a myth, but it feels like my dick is going to fall off from so much use.” He takes a deep breath before he continues. “That sounds bad. I don’t regret any of it.” His head picks up to watch my reaction.

“Who knew so much sex could be a bad thing?” I’ve lost count of how many times we had sex, how many orgasms he’s drawn out of me. Seriously, too many to count. And multiples, too. I wouldn’t know where to begin tallying. I hear myself saying, “But one last time. For good measure.”

Smart as he is, it doesn’t process for Cameron right away. Then the light bulb goes off. “Like later though, right? Not soon?”

The way he asks is so endearing. Like he can’t possibly fathom considering it. And I accept it for what it is. As handsome and swoony as this man is, the thought of sex at the moment is outrageous.

“Right.” My face sours a little more. “We should probably get going. Someone got himself invited to another party.”

“How the heck was I supposed to know you had planned to skip it?”

I throw my hands in the air, my naked boobs bouncing. “You just should have!”

He’s unimpressed with my outburst, which is why he’s a perfect catch. Not letting me get away with having a tantrum about having to attend a breakfast for my good friend, the entire reason I’m here to celebrate.

“We have the rest of the day to spend however you want.” There’s melancholy in his voice, as if he feels sad I’m leaving tomorrow.

We should address it, have a conversation about it, but I’m too chicken-shit to bare my soul to him on the off-chance he still thinks this is a casual fling. Not that we discussed that from the start. We discussed nothing regarding what this was. We . . . let it be what it was.

“But I wanted pancakes,” I whine. “And bacon. And sausage. And waffles.”

“How do you know they won’t be served at this shindig?”

My mouth opens, but no thoughts emerge. Because hell if he isn’t right. I don’t know. Isn’t that the best news ever?

“I hope you’re right. If not, I’m gonna need you to track down some for lunch. Think that will be a hardship?”

He yanks my feet. Squealing, I go easily, ending up tucked next to him. “Lucky for you, I’ve got some connections. It may mean having to wear clothes longer than you originally planned.”

I debate exactly five seconds before responding, “Deal.”

Chapter 17