Page 139
He kissed me before I could argue, and I melted into him. My arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft strands at his nape, and I kissed him like I had the night of the gala.
No, fiercer than that night, when we’d been locked behind a door in which anyone might hear. This kiss was ours alone, and we didn’t have to dampen ourselves for the sake of a possible audience. Electricity stirred along my spine, zapping across my skin, and his wandering hands grew bold enough to cup and grasp and squeeze despite the heavy dress in the way. It woke a near-lethal desire, clouding my thoughts to anything but how much I wanted him. On me. Inside me. Anything. All of it.
When I broke away from him, stepping out of his arms, his face was tinged pink, his eyes bright and feral.
“Do you want to know an interesting fact about this dress, Cam?”
His gaze dipped to my cleavage, then my waist and my legs. “Hmm?”
I raised my hand to the strap of fabric around my neck, finding the single metal clasp that held it on my body. “It comes off easier than any garment I’ve ever worn.”
I pulled the clasp, and the weight of the dress dragged it down, down, down until it was lying in a sequined puddle at my feet. Ivy hadn’t just bought me the dress. She bought the black, lacy things that went underneath. The undergarments were frillier than anything I’d ever owned, but I was glad for it now that Cam stared at my body like he’d just experienced magic.
“That’s—” He swallowed. “That’s interesting.”
I stepped out of the pile, shaking off some sequins that tried to stick to my heels, and slid my hands beneath Cam’s jacket. He allowed me to remove it, staring down at my chest while I untied the bow at his neck. I was at the third button on his shirt, hints of lean muscles and a dusting of light chest hair peeking through, when he finally came to.
His hands cupped my neck, not aggressively, but definitely not gently, and he angled my face up with his thumbs. “You want this?”
I nodded.
His blue eyes sparked. “Say it.”
“I want this.”
His fingers spasmed, and he seemed to be holding his breath. “With me?”
“Yes. I want this with you. Only you.”
Air released from him in a sigh of relief before his lips crashed against mine. All hints of quiet, gentle Cam disappeared behind the decisive, confident man who took his place, and I learned very quickly that this contained, polite man was not contained or polite with this.
He took control.
His hands slid over my covered breasts, to the bare skin of my stomach and gripped my hips, his thumbs digging into the divots beside my hip bones. His kisses were both soft and insistent, promising more with each stroke of his tongue against mine. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, and my legs naturally wrapped around his waist, not breaking the kiss for even an instant.
He knew the layout of the rooms well enough to navigate us without looking, and then he was lowering me onto the softness of his luxurious bed. His mouth left mine to forge a trail of kisses down my neck, and his sneaky hands had unsnapped my bra at some point because when his mouth climbed the summit of my breast, it fell away, and he threw it across the room.
I tried to force my shaking hands to undo the rest of his buttons, but they wouldn’t cooperate. His tongue swirled over an exquisite place, one that connected to a circuit between my legs, and a moan clawed out of my throat. I tugged at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin. Buttons popped, and I pushed on his shoulders to get him upright.
He pulled his mouth from me with a groan and rose to his knees straddling my hips, stripping off his shirt. I sat up and pressed my palms flat against his rigid abdomen, staring at the little trail of golden-brown hair that disappeared behind his belt.
And it hit me. This was Cam. My Cam. The boy of my fantasies turned into the man of my reality.
And he loved me. Heat rose in a sharp wave, cresting over the surface of my skin. The room around us disappeared. The entire world evaporated. I forgot about the nail wedged in my heart. All that existed was me and him and this bed.
I wanted to see him. Feel him. Taste him.
His buckle chinked in the silence between our ragged breaths, and the shiny belt slid from its loops without protest. With his gaze trained on my face, I tackled his button and zipper and kissed the skin above the band of his boxer briefs, inching it down.
He was hot in my hands and so, so ready, but I bit my lip, glancing up at him for permission.
He stared at my mouth with dark, fiery eyes. “If you do that, I won’t last.” His thumb pressed into my lower lip, pulling it down. He wanted it—his desire was a tangible entity between us—but I wanted him to last. My frustration rose with a harsh throb down below, and he must have seen it on my face because he pushed on my shoulders until I was on my back once more, and his mouth was at my ear. “Let me take care of you first.”
His body lowered to mine, and I pressed up into him, enamored of his weight on top of me, of his solid planes molding to my softer curves.
“I love you,” I whispered while his mouth ghosted down my throat and chest. He hummed against my stomach in reply, and his fingers hooked around my underwear.
My thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, and the sensations of him on my skin expanded into an entire universe—constellations of kisses, galaxies of pleasure, and the luminous supernova of an orgasm that he extracted from my body like he’d done it a million times and knew exactly how to touch me to draw it toward infinity.
