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Chin slanted, I hiss, “I said, ‘goodbye,’ Cam. This time I mean it.”
“I’ve the feeling you do.” His straight, white chompers flash.
While I glare up at him, he strokes a loc. My eyes can’t help but follow the movement of his thumb. Warmth bubbles in my soul because of little shit like a single touch.
“Look at me, Lo.”
I wriggle my face free of his touch. Camdyn snags my wrists, bringing me forward then slamming me back against the wall. This is a move to assert his weight, and the force sends pain down my backbone.
Clenching my teeth, I growl. “Stop!”
In a smooth, deep, subdued voice, Camdyn says, “So, you were with Christian last night. Got a little birthday dick from him instead?”
I almost laugh. This isn’t envy; it’s an obsession. I scream so hard my voice breaks. “Helloooo! Christian won’t talk to me because of you, psycho. I called him two days ago. I’m still blocked.”
He is tone-deaf, snarling, “Christian has brothers. Let me fecking tell ye, there are plenty more where I come from. I’ve got the oldest brother. Let’s start there. Little Brody—big as a bear—otherwise known as the Surgeon and that motherfecker has no advanced degrees. He’s known for cutting smiles.” Camdyn runs his thumb over his beautiful lips and to his cheeks.
“So, I’m gathering a Joker depiction?” I roll my eyes, letting out a dry laugh.
“I don’t fecking think I need to name the rest of them, Willow. Oh, but the last card I have . . . come close, lassie.”
I laugh, moving to the opposite side of the bed. “Really, we’re back to the chicken nuggets rolling around in your brain, huh? Leave, douchebag.”
Camdyn settles back in bed like his name is on the deed to the whole house. “Willow, we’re at the point where I remind you how I placed my lips around your pussy and clit and sent your little ungrateful arse to heaven.”
“Screw you.”
“Slow down, sparky, we’re not quite ready to feck yet. Which reminds me . . .”
The air in my lungs perishes as Camdyn comes into a standing position on my bed. He steps off, and my heart goes splat in my chest as he bulldozes past me.
“What are you doing?” I squeak as he opens a top dresser drawer.
“I had to sniff your panties around four a.m. when I woke up, and you still weren’t here.”
My eyes lock onto his masculine back as more of my underwear sail from the dresser. Foreboding rockets down my spine as the side of his thick lips tip. Next, Hillary’s .22 emerges between his index and thumb.
A sexy eyebrow kicks up. “Wee fecker. Why?”
Face flushed, I order, “Put it back.”
“Now, I’m inquiring about the chicken nuggets bouncing around in your head. Why were you armed at the pier last week? Or shall I ask, who crossed you?”
Dumbstruck, my arms fold over. The comeback drops too many seconds later. “You crossed me.”
I suck in air while he places the barrel to his head, scratching an itch, or who the hell knows. Forget chicken nuggets. Each corner of his psyche is all wide, open, desolate space.
“Who do you need protecting from?” Camdyn sits down, holding the gun still. “You’re in the presence of greatness, Willow. A MacKenzie. You have me. The American. Here’s the part where you benefit from the man who will pluck your cherry.”
Vehement, I shake my head. I’m past the point of attempting to appeal to his intellect. There’s no reasoning with a sociopath.
“I’m offering a life for you. I’ll take care of your problem. I know you run that beautiful mouth, Willow. But when it comes down to it, there’s only one set of baws between the two of us.”
