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Why are we calling it that night?
What about tonight?
Why can’t we discuss what’s going on here?
In a move that should be awkward but isn’t, Camdyn gestures me toward the bike. His rough hands press my thighs wide, and he plants me on the back of his Harley. His freshly showered scent surrounds me as the motorcycle skirts off into the street. The handful of stars in Los Angeles scatter as the Harley navigates curves. The powerful engine and the powerful body I wrap myself around becomes a balm to my shitty-ass life.
Trees stretch wide in all directions then, unexpectedly, the stars appear again, framing the MacKenzie lake house.
Camdyn guides me off the bike, pulling the helmet from over my head as we stand in the empty garage. I pull out of his leather jacket and glance at the goosebumps prickling my thighs. I yank at the DuPont skirt.
Camdyn examines my frame, palms sweeping the length of me. “Fuck, you’re still freezing. You ready to tell me what the hell happened?”
“They’re killing my mom on Sunday.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, hands clamping onto my shoulders.
There’s an intensity about him. If I allow myself to be delusional enough, I can call it nurturing and supportive. Every box checked on a normal woman’s list for a lover. But I saw the way my pops once looked at Momma. This is our self-imposed sickness—us joined as one.
I snort. “That’s not the worst part. I expected it until Dad dropped a bomb.”
Nodding subtly, Camdyn forks heavy fingers through his reddish-blond hair. Then my guy places a steady hand on my shoulder, suggesting that he’s here for me if I feel like discussing further. I shake Dad’s words from my mind again. “Cam, it’s, um, Tuesday. Although this is our weekend thing, we have school.”
“Fuck school. You finished your last final today. Senior ditch day is Thursday. Tomorrow? Fuck tomorrow too.” Camdyn folds me in his arms, tasting the salt of my tears. Voice rasping, he declares, “I love you so fucking much, Willow.” Our tongues continue to clash, desperate and reckless, but not overwhelming, not all-consuming.
On a broken gasp, I glance away, denying him access to my mouth.
“Please, Cam, I love you.” The air between us sharpens. The ‘I love you, but’ clause hovers between us. My eyes seem to say what my voice hasn’t caught on to. I love you, but this isn’t all I need.
“You love me?” Camdyn’s magnificent gaze rolls away. He cracks his neck, broad shoulders rolling, corded arms tensing, too stubborn to give me what I crave unless I succumb and ask for it.
My breathing becomes audible as time trickles by between us, and I recall the very night Camdyn told me he loved me. That night was living proof that he can be more than a sociopath.
“I love what we have, Cam, but—”
“Yup. But—” he growls.
“I need you to wrap your hands around my throat and fuck me angry.” My voice collapses as warmth flutters in my stomach at the thought of Camdyn’s penchant for violence. Slowly, the air between us shifts. I thought his demeanor changed a second ago. But now, his presence is something to be amazed and feared. My corrupt thoughts slip from my mouth in a whisper. “You haven’t made me hurt in a long, long time.”
