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“Are you sure,” he says, positioning himself at my entrance. I’ve had sex before. It was not great, and if I could go back and talk to my sixteen-year-old self I would beg me to wait.Wait for this. Let this be the one. That first one who means something.
I nod, letting my smile paint my lips. Cameron’s mouth pushes into his right cheek, dimpling with sweetness and seduction. He bends down and kisses the center of my chest, soft bites inching their way up my body to my neck and ear until I feel him stretch me. He holds still, half inside me, letting me get used to his warmth and thickness. His eyes close with restraint.
“Fucking hell,” he groans.
My hands grab at his shoulders, and I pull him into me, urging him to push in more. His movement is slow, and I roll my hips to make room for him deeper. A gasp parts my lips and I arch into him on instinct.
“More,” I plead. Cameron stands and pulls out entirely, holding himself in his hand, teasing me with his tip before pushing inside again. His thrust is faster, harder, and my body moves along the wood of the desk with his force. My legs squeeze at his hips, holding him to me as he pumps in and out. I grab at his sides, pulling myself into him with every plunge. His skin moist with sweat, his breath sweet with whiskey, he kisses along my breasts, biting my nipples gently at first and harder as his climax grows. I pulse around him, whimpers of pleasure uncontrollably falling from my lips.
Seconds seem to drag into minutes as Cameron chases every wave of pleasure, his muscles tightening, jaw rigid as he pumps into me before finally sinking in and collapsing on my chest.
Our rapid breathing takes minutes to slow, and we spend the time tasting the salty sweat on one another’s shoulders and necks. The soft glow of a single lamp highlights our naked bodies, and as much as I don’t want to separate, I crave seeing him like this—naked, satiated,mine.
He stands and disposes of the condom, his dick still hard as he walks around the room without shame. I pull my knees to my body as I sit up, realizing that I haven’t thought about my scars since he began touching me. I’m too struck by his beauty to be weighed down by my flaws.
“Are you staring at me, Brooky?” He steps up in front of me, pulling my legs free and wrapping them around his waist.
“I am,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, my cheeks warm as I tuck my face into the crook of his neck. He laughs lightly.
“Oh, don’t you go hiding and being all shy on me now. It’s too late, missy. I’ve seen it all,” he teases, scooping me up and carrying me to the leather sofa that I was sitting on with Lily and Morgan a month ago during one of our parties. He sits down, holding me to straddle his lap, and I relish his hard warmth that still presses against my center.
“I’m going to laugh every time Morgan lies down on this couch,” I say. Cameron’s body shakes with amusement, his fingertips gliding around my shoulders and arms in tender circles.
“I can’t wait to see Theo pour a drink over there,” he says, nodding to the desk where he took me completely.
I bite at my lip, my face warming again. I tuck myself against him, and this time he lets me hide. We sit in silence, so many barriers torn down between us. There is nothing about Cameron that isn’t good. At least nothing that isn’t good for me. Fear, doubt, melancholy, loneliness—they’ve all been replaced by this new feeling, one of belonging and being adored. He said he loved me in the way boys do about their youthful crushes, but I think he meant it completely. I feel it in his touch and sense it in the way his eyes linger comfortably.
I feel it, too.
I feel it, too.
Chapter13
Cameron
Brooklyn Bennett is my fucking girlfriend.
I can’t stop grinning at that thought. I haven’t stopped since I walked her to Hayden Hall and kissed her good night. I can still taste her this morning, hours later. I smell the lavender of her hair, the sweetness of her sex. I’m bathed in it.
I’m glad she showed up when she did before I got deep into my self-pity party and drowned out the noise with too much whiskey. I was just buzzed enough to forget the risks of it all, of falling for a girl too good for me and weighing her down with all my baggage.
It's not that I don’t still worry about those things. Or that I no longer care. I do, deeply. I just want her more than I worry about the bullshit.
“What dumb shit thing were you out doing last night?” Theo picks up one of my T-shirts from his bed and flings it at my chest. I’m already dressed and ready for class and for once, he’s the one running late. He loops his tie around his neck, and I can already tell he’s going to blow this attempt—the long side is too short.
“I was out teaching necktie etiquette to a bunch of first forms. They’re now all pros at the Windsor knot.”
His eyes dart to meet mine in the mirror just as he slides his knot in place and feels his way down to the lopsided ends of his tie.
“Fuck you,” he curses, scowling and undoing his tie for the ninth time.
“Come here, brotha. I got you,” I say, sitting tall at the end of my bed and ushering him toward me. His arms slumped at his sides, he relents and leaves his mangled tie in my hands. I stand up square with him and go to work.
I can’t keep my grin at bay this morning. But I can feel the frantic energy roaring off of Theo right now, so I try not to put it in his face.
“Everything all right, man?” I pry as I swing his tie around quickly and fashion a decent knot in seconds. I slide it up to the edge of his collar then back away for him to take over.
“Thanks,” he sighs out. He runs his hands through his hair about a dozen times and continues to pace. “And yeah, I’m just nervous. It’s the first big meeting about that scholarship fund Coach helped me start. I just don’t want to look like an idiot, you know?”
