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“What was that for?” I asked, my voice raspy.
“An apology kiss is a perfect excuse to cop a feel,” he whispered, reminding me of our earlier conversations at the café.
We were finally hurdling the physical and it felt so good, so natural. I couldn’t believe what a difference a day could make. “What song do you want to hear?” His voice was damned near a groan.
We were bordering on indecent as he sucked on my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his soft lips.
When I didn’t answer, he asked again, this time with dimples on full display. “Abbie?”
“What was the question?”
He kissed me deeply, then ripped himself away just as I was about to forfeit clothes.
“Surprise me,” I whispered back as he reluctantly let me go.
“I intend to,” he said sincerely as we both licked a fresh promise from our lips.
A little after midnight, Cameron bid me goodnight at my front door. I was panting when he left me, his smile radiant as he closed my gate and glanced back to where I stood. I touched my lips as he crossed the street, his long strides taking him too far away from me.
“I said goddamn,” I whispered before I shut the door and sighed. I instantly missed him. And before I could scold myself for it, I got a text.
Cameron: Any plans for today?
“Tell me everything,” Bree said as she slipped on her first dress.
“Nothing new to report since the last time we talked. He’s brilliant and beautiful and good to me. Really good to me.”
Cameron and I had been inseparable since the day he’d kissed me. I’d attended one of the home basketball games he coached, which started a string of fantasies that he starred in. I’d lusted over him as he stood on the sidelines in his silky black sweat suit with a dominating stance.
That night, though he coached basketball, I’d let him get to second base. He had drawn more moans out of me than I thought capable. He’d left me hoarse and needy at my front door, and I’d gone to bed with my fantasies on replay and his name on my lips.
The day after, we had our first dinner date. Again, we’d ended up on my porch, clinging to each other, an invitation on the tip of my tongue but never escaping my lips. And he’d never pressed. We’d left each other frustrated, but in the best way.
Last night, outside my door, and underneath the artificial yellow light, he’d whispered my name in a way that had me near orgasm just from the sound of it.
“Abbie,” he rasped out as his fingertips traced the collar of my knit sweater. They edged around the soft fabric in a seductive caress while his green eyes held my blue. Wordless—though I could see a million of them on his waiting lips—he kissed me breathless, and then kissed me some more as I sank into him, our bodies locking like they belonged that way.
Swept away by the King of Woo, I still couldn’t believe I was the lucky one on the receiving end of his attention. It was, without exaggeration, the most romantic courting of my life. No matter what we were doing, his affection seemed bottomless, and I lapped it up eagerly, starved for more.
I had it bad, and it felt so fucking good; I refused to overanalyze it.
Bree smiled at my dazed expression while my brain scrambled with racing thoughts of my new man. Trying to remain focused on my duties, I scrutinized the dress she was fastening.
“This isn’t exactly your style,” I said. “Neither is this place.”
We were at a posh bridal boutique downtown. Anthony had insisted on giving her his AmEx and buying her dress. Bree was as independent as I was but seemed to have no issue with it.
I was proud of her for being so onboard with his plans. She was arranging the ceremony but agreed to leave the reception up to her fiancé. For a southern girl who came from a traditional family, it was completely atypical for a bride to give up so much say, but Bree was anything but typical.
I moved to free her from the tight confines of the dress just as it pooled at her feet. “I’m not going to find it here.” She sighed, slipping into another dress.
“No, you aren’t, but it was a sweet gesture from him. There’s a shop in Wicker that sells vintage gowns,” I suggested. “We should check that out.”
She beamed at me. “He’s loving the whole thing, the planning and the details. It’s so weird, right? He wants to be involved.”
I shook my head. “Not weird, it’s amazing. And you aren’t the stressed-out bride at all.”
She grinned. “We’ve been having a lot of sex.”
